What He's Been Missing

I know you hate me. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I

just can’t not try. This is my family. I have to be here.

I’m so sorry.

FROM: IAN DUPREE

TIME: 12:03am

I’ll come get my things in the morning.

11

Driving Off Into the Sunset

#Losing . . . At sunrise, Ian showed up in my bedroom doorway with his bag packed and over his shoulder.

I was sitting in the middle of the bed, Indian style, with my laptop in front of my legs, trying to get Journey on the line. She wasn’t there. I didn’t know what to say to him.

He didn’t seem to know what to say to me. He looked over at the window at the sun’s rays coming through the blinds.

We listened for a while like two people expecting birds to chirp and to hear children hollering at one another as they walked to the bus stop. There was silence, though. No distractions from our reality.

“You want to go to breakfast?” Ian asked with a struggle for normalcy in his voice.

“No.”

“OK.” He sounded glad that I’d turned him down. “I left your key on the counter in the kitchen.”

“OK.” I was so desperately angry that I couldn’t say anything else. That I couldn’t fight this. But there was no reason to make him stay. I’d hate myself if I did. I’d hate him if he did.

We listened for the birds and children. Still silence.

“Rachel—”

I put my hand up to stop him. I didn’t want to hear my name. This was difficult enough. Salt on my wounds. I couldn’t hear my name from his mouth. That would just be like I was trying to make everything OK. Like I was pretending this wasn’t what it was. Or like I thought he owed me some explanation. “Don’t. Just go.”

Ian looked down at his bag. “I didn’t mean to hurt—”

“Don’t!” I glowered at him.

“You’re my best—” His voice was cracking the same way Xavier’s had when he was at my threshold.

“Ian, stop it!” I said just as Journey took my Skype call. Her face popped up on the laptop screen. Ian couldn’t see her, though. “Nothing you can say is going to change what’s going to happen.”

“But I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t do anything without me. We both did it. Everything. Our relationship. How else was this supposed to end up? How was anyone else going to survive in our lives with us the way we were? This had to happen.” I started crying. “And I’m not sad that it happened. I’m sad that now things have to change. That they won’t be like they were. But I know they shouldn’t be.”

“We can still—”

“No, we can’t.”

Ian exhaled and I knew what he was about to say.

“Don’t say it,” I said. “Don’t say you love me. Just go. Go and be a good father. Be a good husband. Be a good man. Do what you promised you were going to do.”

He sniffled and pushed his hands into his pocket. There would be no hug. No promise of tomorrow. This was the end of our good-bye.