Page 88 of Sol
“It is. You had no reason to go to Spain unless you had to be themessenger.”
“Dani. I can prove it to you. I’ve wanted you my entirelife—”
“No,” she said, not listening to me. “This isn’t working.” She flopped over. “Fuck. I’m so torn. There are so many reasons why we can’t see each other. But I want you just as badly as Idon’t.”
“Where does this leaveus?”
“With you staying away from me, so I can have my brother’s memory inpeace.”
They say that grief isn’t linear, but that there are stages. Shock. Denial. Rage. Bargaining. That you can dance in the stages like a dancer in an old movie going up a flight of stairs. Up and down, not content to stay in a stage. Or you can decide that one is your thing and campthere.
She’d crossed into bargaining. And part of that bargain was getting rid ofme.
* * *
We left that retreat early,unwilling to go back to the group session and process any more. Instead, we packed our bags and said goodbye toAna.
Silently, we drove back to Granada and returned the car. My chest held heavy weights, and the back of my throat ached. When I walked her to her apartment, she didn’t invite me up, and I didn’t ask. Even though I wantedto.
But I had to remember that maybe she wasn’tmine.
After I dropped off my things, I came by. She reluctantly buzzed mein.
I stood at her doorway. “I know you want to be alone. And I will do whatever I need to for you to be safe and happy. But if you cut me out of your life, you need to know what I think about you. So here’s what I’d tell you if you never speak to meagain.”
And I handed her my letter from bootcamp.
