Page 24 of It Couldn't Be You
“What now? Do I just go upstairs to my apartment? How do I walk away? What about our Christmas plans? What about New Year’s? What do I tell my family? What now?”
“I guess we figure it out as we go.” I sniffled. I wiped my eyes as he searched my face for answers.
This little life we had built together came tumbling down all around us—along with all the doubts I had stored deep inside, Jordan’s hopes and plans, and the cold, wet rain I’d thought would be snow.
Seven
Katie
Hey I haven’t heard from you in hours. How are you doing?
Idrove through the gray storm back to my own apartment.
My mom called me and offered for me to come stay the night at my parents. She was worried I would be too sad all alone, worried I might cry myself to sleep. And as valid and probable as her fears were, I just wanted my own bed. My own stuff.
My hands were icy and shaky as I unlocked the door, my face wet with rain and tears. My little home looked so simple and normal after such a strange, eventful past twenty-four hours. I dropped my purse on the floor. I immediately shed my borrowed sweatshirt and shimmied out of the scratchy red dress. I numbly poured myself a glass of water and crawled into my bed.
As I burrowed under the fluffy white duvet, I let my shoulders relax and started to sob.
My phone started ringing, “You’ve Got a Friend In Me,” from my nightstand, where I had dropped it beside my glass of water. I crawled across my bed and hit ignore, but it started singing again. I smiled in spite of myself at my friend’s persistence.
“Hi, Katie. I’m in my bed,” I answered, sniffling quietly.
“Are you crying, babe?”
“Yes,” I whispered, but she heard me.
“Oh, Em.”
“I think I’d rather not be on the phone right now,” I admitted. “Sorry.”
“How about you come over?” she asked.
“I think I want to be alone.”
“No, no, you shouldn’t be alone. Come over, and we can watch sad movies or funny movies. And drink wine. We can talk it all out. This is the whole best friend gig.”
I laughed a little, considering it. But then I could hear Gabriel laugh in the background of the call. I couldn’t handle letting any other kind of feeling in my chest right now. No thoughts beyond the ones already in my head.
“How about we revisit that idea in a couple days? It’s been a long twenty-four hours, and I need a little time to myself.”
“Understood.”
“Thank you for the offer, though.”
“Anytime, Em,” she said kindly.
I hung up my phone and burrowed deep under my blankets. I cried really hard until suddenly I wasn’t crying anymore, and I was finally asleep.
Acouple of days later, I drove home with my parents from my family’s big Christmas Eve dinner. They were crooning along with old Christmas songs and gossiping about family members, and I watched Christmas lights twinkle outside the window.
My mind kept thinking,what would I be doing right now if I hadn’t left him?I would’ve been showing off a beautiful ring, dreaming up wedding plans. I would’ve been nervously, happily planning to see my almost-in-laws for Christmas…like a real-life adult. He would’ve come along to my Grandma and Grandpa’s. My Grandpa would’ve quizzed him on all his silly favorite conspiracy theories. Jordan probably would’ve challenged a couple of my cousins to play a game outside. I would’ve whispered about him and his proposal to those who stayed inside with me.
Instead, I sleepily spent the night at my parents after we got back to town. We drank spiked hot chocolate around their big brick fireplace in the center of our living room and watchedIt’s a Wonderful Lifeon their sunken-in blue couch.
After my parents turned in, I slipped into my little twin-sized bed in my old bedroom. My mom had a little Christmas tree covered in twinkle lights set up in the corner of the room with all my “Baby’s First Christmas” and homemade ornaments I’d made as a little girl. I tossed and turned, my mind still spiraling.
Back in my apartment, in my bedroom closet, I had hidden Jordan’s Christmas gift.Do I mail it to him? Do I keep it?I curled up in shame, knowing he probably had a gift for me hiding in his closet, too. Unless he’d tossed it, burned it. Was he at home thinking about me? Was Christmas a nice distraction? Did his family hate me now?
