Page 65 of Running Into You
“What are you doing here, Eleanor?” It sounds harsher than I mean it to, but I’m operating on limited sleep. She flinches at the words, looking down at the table.
“Your mother texted me. I wanted to do something. It was such a shock,” she raises her hand to her chest. “I just had brunch with them this week.”
Why the fuck were you having brunch with them? We broke up months ago.I understand that she’s known them for years and I’m sure she still cares about them. But continuing to integrate herself into their lives after I told her I didn’t want to be with her just seems petty. More than petty, it seems calculated. I rub my face with my hands and take the higher road.
“Yeah. I know. It took all of us by surprise. But his prognosis is good. If he follows his doctor’s advice, he’ll be fine.”
She smiles at me and nods, relaxing the slightest bit. We haven’t seen each other since I moved out, and for the first time today, I really look at her. She looks great, as always. Not a hair out of place. Her clothes are impeccable and perfectly accessorized. On the surface, she looks perfect. But appearances can be deceiving and I’m registering something different in her. She’s nervous and uncertain, emotions I’ve rarely seen in her. She’s always sure of herself, always in control. Not today.
“What about us?” she asks finally. She’s not looking at me, instead staring at her hands as they fold and unfold the napkin in front of her. “Are we going to be fine?”
Her question doesn’t surprise me, but I’m still not ready for it. She always spoke about the breakup as though it were temporary. She believed I’d come to my senses with a bit of time on my own. But time has had the opposite effect and I’m more certain that I made the right decision with every day that passes.
“I don’t want to get back together,” I tell her honestly. “And I’m not going to change my mind. I know that’s not what you want to hear. But it’s the truth. You’re an amazing person, Eleanor. You’re smart and driven, and I have no doubt that you’re going to get everything you want in life. But it won’t be with me. You deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you.”
She doesn’t argue or get upset, but she deflates a bit. She nods as though she was expecting this result, but she still doesn’t like it.
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” she finally says.
“Well, I’ve had lots of practice disappointing you,” I admit, half-joking, but not really.
“If you ever change your mind,”
“I won’t. I’m not saying this to hurt you, Eleanor. But I’m done. We’re done. I need you to understand that we are not going to get back together. Please tell me that you understand that.”
Her expression darkens momentarily before her calm composure returns. “I understand, Josh.”
Without another word, we both stand, and I proceed to see her out. Her coat is by the door, and I help her into it out of habit. One last time.
“Please tell your mother that I said ‘goodbye’,” she says stiffly. There isn’t a trace of sadness on her face, she just looks tired.
“Of course.”
“Thank you. Goodbye, Josh,” she says as I open the door for her.
“Take care of yourself, Eleanor,” I say as she walks away from me. She doesn’t look back and I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. For the first time, I feel like I actually got through to her.
I close the door and walk back into the kitchen. I start to pack up the trays of uneaten food she brought over. As I’m putting them into the fridge, my mother appears.
“Did Eleanor leave already?” She’s changed into the NYU hoodie I gave her several Christmases ago. It swims on her tiny frame, and she has to roll the sleeves up in order to be able to see her hands.
“Yes, she did.” She waits for me to say something else. I don’t. I just keep arranging the fridge while she watches me.
One difficult conversation down, two to go.
“I thought maybe if I gave the two of you a chance to talk that maybe,” she shrugs, looking nervous. “You’d be able to work things out. She misses you, darling.”
“I don’t miss her.” I say as plainly as I can. I don’t have the energy to pretend to care anymore.
Mom seems personally offended by this. “She’s a lovely girl, Josh!”
“Yes, she is,” I say, suddenly exasperated. “She is smart and beautiful, and I know you and Dad love her. But I don’t, mom. I don’t know if I ever really loved her. For the last two years that we were together, I was miserable. I don’t want to be with her.” My mother’s eyes start to fill with tears, and I feel like an asshole. Jesus, she almost lost her husband and I’m unloading my baggage on her. Retreat. “I’m sorry, mom. I know you must be disappointed in me.”
She daintily wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes with her fingertips and pushes her dark hair back from her face. “I’m disappointed that you didn’t talk to me! You are my son, Josh! Your happiness is all that matters to me.” She starts to cry, and I go to her, wrapping her in my arms.
“I’m so sorry, mom,” I say, letting her crumble into my chest.
“To know that you were unhappy for so long and didn’t talk to anyone about it.” She continues, “Haven’t I always supported you?”
