Page 125 of Better Than Gelato
“You got out of bed! You came out of your room! And all by yourself! You’re amazing! A marvel! Hurrah!”
It’s over the top but very Maggie. I give an awkward wave.
“Morning.” My throat hurts. From crying. Or yelling. Or maybe I caught strep throat at the same time my heart broke.
“Sorry for all this,” I mumble and wave a hand to encompass all of me.
“It’s fine,” Petey says, and dishes me a pancake. I eat and let the carbs work their magic.
“So, did you think you were going to marry this boy?” Pirate asks after a while.
I give a shrug. “I definitely wasn’t ready for marriage. I think he was. We picked out pets. And named our sailboat.”
The tears are back so hard and fast I feel like I’m drowning.When will this pain stop? Shouldn’t the hurting diminish at some point?It still feels fresh and raw and deep, like there are not enough days in eternity for this wound to heal.
“Thanks for the pancakes, Petey,” I whisper. Then I put my plate and fork in the sink and head back to my room.
At some point, Maggie discreetly took down all the pictures of me and Jake and replaced them with pictures of Nicolas Cage being a weirdo. It makes me smile.
As night falls, I face the fact that I have to go to school and work tomorrow and somehow pretend my heart wasn’t ripped from my chest and torn to shreds.
I unbury my computer from a pile of clothes and check my schedule. It’s not going to be fun, but I don’t have any assignments due, so that’s a piece of good luck.
There’s an email from my parents telling me how much they love me and how wonderful I am.
There’s one from my Chemistry TA because I failed the exam on Friday. He’s reaching out because I got an A on the last exam and all the quizzes so far. This is a drastic shift.Why yes, TA Chad, this is a drastic shift, isn’t it?
The last email is from Jake. I didn’t notice right away because it doesn’t have his name as the sender, just a weird edu email address. I read the first line.
Juliet, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
I close my laptop before I know I’m doing it. The way your hand reacts instinctively when you touch a hot stove. Because it’s protecting you from pain before the pain gets worse.
I know that if I read that email, if I email him back, if I unblock his number and engage with him under the flimsy excuse of closure or civility, I will never get over him. I will be in love with him forever. And he will still not love me back. And it will be excruciating.
So I make a solemn vow to do none of those things. I will not indulge in “what ifs” or “should haves.” I won’t even dwell on fond memories. Maybe there will be a time and space for that later. For right now, it’s got to be a total shutout, or I’ll never survive this.
ChapterThirty-Three
Imaster the art of disguise. I learn how to pass myself off as a walking, talking human when really, I’m a scarecrow.
I manage to cook dinner tonight. A delicious pasta primavera that floods my brain with memories and fills my eyes with tears.
I yell at a stranger today, for no other reason than he got in my way and looked vaguely Jake-like.
Michael Bublé’s “Moondance” comes on at work. I have a flash of Jake’s arms around me, slow dancing at the bus stop. I have to go into the back room until I get a hold of myself.
Photography assignment: What is Fall? My photo of moldering flowers hangs next to shots of pumpkin lattes and knit scarves.
Giovanni reads us a funny Italian poem. I burst into tears for absolutely no reason.
Professor Melvin assigns us a photo series due in two weeks. The theme is growth. He encourages us to start brainstorming what our subjects will be and how we’ll best capture them. I have zero ideas.
After the initial devastation of the first week, I throw myself into my classes with complete and total focus. It’s a relief to cram my head full of facts, they quiet the painful thoughts.
I did not completely derail my academic future, as Maggie feared I might. Turns out, we get to drop our worst exam in Chemistry, so I have some hope for that class after all. If I do well on my final English paper, which should be easy, and get at least a B+ on the final Chemistry exam, which will be harder, I think I can pull off straight A’s. So I will graduate sad and alone, but at least I’ll graduate.
I’ve lost contact with all my Italian friends. Jake was on the text thread, and I didn’t want any part of it. When Paolo and Valentina and Carmen reached out to me individually, I ignored them.
