Another Day (Every Day 2)

“Thank you for coming,” he says. Like he wasn’t sure I would. Like I’m doing him a favor.

“I thought about not coming,” I admit. “But I didn’t seriously consider it.” Up close, he looks even worse. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says. He does not sound okay.

“Remind me—what’s your name today?”

“Michael.”

I look at him again. I remember that this boy is supposed to be in Hawaii right now.

“Poor Michael,” I say.

“This is not how I imagine he thought the day would go.”

“That makes two of us.”

This morning seems like a million years ago. I was so mad at him. Now I’m just sad.

“Is it over now?” he asks. “With the two of you?”

How could it not be? I want to ask him. In what universe could Justin understand what I’ve done?

“Yes,” I say. Then I add, unfairly, “So I guess you got what you wanted.”

He does not appreciate this. “That’s an awful way to put it. Don’t you want it, too?”

“Yes. But not like that. Not in front of everybody like that.”

He reaches up to touch my face, but it doesn’t feel right. I flinch. He lowers his hand.

This makes me even sadder. What I’m doing to him.

“You’re free of him,” he says.

I would love for it to be that easy. It is not that easy.

“I forget how little you know about these things,” I tell him. “I forget how inexperienced you are. I’m not free of him, A. Just because you break up with someone, it doesn’t mean you’re free of him. I’m still attached to Justin in a hundred different ways. We’re just not dating anymore. It’s going to take me years to be free of him.”

I don’t know why I’m saying this to him. Why I want us to hurt. Maybe I just feel less guilt if I feel more pain.

“Should I have gone to Hawaii?” he asks me.

I almost lost him. I have to realize I almost lost him. The thing I feared the most yesterday almost happened today. He did everything he could to stay, and now I’m punishing him for it.

I have to stop.

“No,” I say, “you shouldn’t have. I want you here.”

His eyes light up with the chance I’m giving, with the possibility that even though everything’s gone wrong, it might ultimately be right.

“With you?” he asks.

I nod. “With me. When you can be.”

It’s the best we can do. He knows it. I know it. And we also know we could settle for much less. We could give up.

He asks me more about what happened after he left, and I tell him. He wants me to understand why he had to run—he couldn’t get Michael into even more trouble—and I tell him I understand.