Page 120 of It Couldn't Be You
Katie and I were adjusting to her big life changes naturally, because our roots were strong and healthy. We loved each other, trusted each other. We could adapt to whatever big life changes I made next.It was my turn, wasn’t it?
I pulled up my note ofThings to Say to Gabeand wrote that I could build a new life with Gabriel. His family, and Katie, would adapt and adjust. And more importantly, I wrote thatI couldadapt and adjust.Wait, no, I deleted that last line and wrote I could do more than adapt and adjust,I could thrive.
Forty-Five
One afternoon, I was sitting in a coffee shop working, but my mind didn’t want to think about work—it wanted to think about Gabriel Hernandez.
I, on a whim, pulled out my phone and sent him a message.
Me
Just wanted to check in.
As if I were his coworker and knew he was home sick or something. I awaited his reply for an hour, full of anticipation. I fell asleep that night, unable to get the bubble of hope out of my chest that at any moment my phone could light up with a message from Gabe.
But days passed, and nothing.
I thought I’d regret sending it more, but I didn’t. I’d been painstakingly spending the entire time wondering if I should send another message or not. Now I knew the answer.
Maybe it was selfish to reach out. He obviously didn’t want to hear from me. But I wanted him to know I was available. That this time, I wasn’t going to hide or run. That, if he was ready, I was ready now to talk. I was going to send messages now. No more ignoring them.
Now I would just be hoping for a reply.
When I was in college studying journalism, I used to imagine a future where I lived in big cities and wrote in busy parks, watching the world around me. But I had found myself often writing in my little apartment or the café down the street where there was air conditioning.
But finally, one day, I decided to brave the heat and go write in Washington Square Park. I needed to get out of my head, and my deadline was quickly approaching, as in a couple of days away. I was doing some of my final work before sending it over for feedback and edits. Plus, why not make that dream come true? It was just a subway ride away.
I found a spot on the grass under a shady tree and worked on revisions for a few hours until my phone started ringing, startling me out of my fog of focus. It was my mom. I answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Mom,” I said.
“Hey honey, what are you up to?” Her voice sounded far away like I was on her car speaker phone.
“I’m sitting at a park working. What are you up to?” I had on my earphones, so I rested my head against a tree for a moment.
“I’m driving home from an appointment and was thinking about you. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, Mom,” I said and meant it. Hearing her voice felt like a hug through the phone.
“I was wondering how you’re doing up there. We had that long talk about Gabriel. Then the next thing I know, you’re boarding a flight to New York City. Have you guys spoken about everything?” I heard her blinker clicking.
I sighed deeply. “We haven’t spoken at all. I mean, I’ve tried. But he’s not answering me at all. Which feels like karma for when I didn’t reply to his message for, you know, ever.”
“Well, that’s stupid. He should reply to you. Why would he ignore you like that? Especially if he knows how bad that feels. Plus, come on, you know he wants to talk.”
“I’m just giving him his space. I think he’s clearing his mind or whatever. I know—”
“Clearing his mind? Of what? You two need to finally talk. It’s been years of mind clearing. Your last talk ended abruptly—”
“I’m the reason it ended abruptly, Mom.” I brushed a bead of sweat from my forehead.
“Who cares? You said you didn’t want to talk right then. If he took that to mean you didn’t want to talk ever, then he did that defensively. I mean, you have both been fumbling the ball.”
“You mean fumbling the bag?”
“You’re both fumbling it up.” My mom muttered.
“Well, I don’t disagree.” I closed my laptop. I was sweating and being lectured by my mother. “I obviously want to talk to him, but I’m not mad or anything. He can be defensive. I mishandled our last talk, and then I blew him off again on the plane. After years of pretending we’d never kissed. I mean, I had some defensiveness coming my way.”
