A note, not a text.
“Hey, babe,” he said, hardly looking at me. “I’m sorry, but I....”
“Don’t,” I said. “Just don’t.” I hugged myself at the elbows. “You weren’t even going to tell me?”
“I…I didn’t want a scene.” He sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “I’m sorry, Darlene. I really am. But I can’t do this anymore.”
“Can’t do what?” I shook my head. “No, never mind. I don’t want to hear it. Not again.”
Again, I’m not enough. Not good enough. Not funny or pretty or something enough.
“Didn’t hold on tight enough.” I murmured.
“Darlene, I do care about you, but…”
“You’re sorry, but. You care about me, but.” I shook my head, tears choking my throat. “Go if you’re going to go, but don’t say anything else. You’re just making it worse.”
He sighed and looked at me imploringly. “Come on, Dar. I know I’m not alone in this. You feel it too. There’s just…nothing left in the tank, right? The engine’s grinding and grinding, and we’re hoping something will catch and spark back up again. But we both know it’s not going to happen.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s us.”
I opened my mouth to speak. To deny. To scream and curse and rage.
I said, “Yeah, I guess.”
Kyle sighed again, but this time with relief. He came to me and I hugged him tight; tried to absorb the feeling of his arms around me one more time. I inhaled him, to hold on. Then exhaled, and he slipped away.
He moved to the door and I stepped back toward our tiny kitchen.
Kyle hefted his bag onto his shoulders. “See you around, Dar.”
I kept my eyes averted and then squeezed them shut at the sound of the door closing. The click was as loud as a slap.
“See you around,” I murmured.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zelda asked. The screech of an incoming bus lurching into the depot nearly drowned her words, and a light summer shower sprinkled diamonds in my friend’s long, dark hair.
Beckett, her fiancé and my best friend, towered over her. Instinctively, he leaned in slightly, to shield her from the elements. I don’t even think he realized he was doing it. A frown pulled his mouth down. Worry made his blue eyes sharp.
“I’m sure,” I answered Zelda, hefting my heavy-as-shit backpack higher on my shoulder. A porter came and took my green army duffel to stow it under the bus. “Whether or not I’m ready to do this, is another question.”
“Are you ready to do this?” Beckett asked with a small smile.
Zelda nudged him. “Smart ass.”
My gaze went between them fondly…and with envy. Zelda and Beckett were living their happily-ever-after, publishing their comic books, and busy being madly in love. Jealousy bit at me for what they had; a kind of love that seemed impossible for someone with my history. But I wasn’t leaving the city to find someone, I was leaving someone behind. The old me.
Leaving Zelda and Beckett was scary, but because they were my best friends, I knew they would not fade away to the background of my life as I left New York.
“Holy shit, I’m leaving New York.”
“Yes, you are,” Zelda said. “Not just leaving the city, but going clear across the country.” She pursed her lips and fixed me a look with her large green eyes. “Tell me again what San Francisco has that Brooklyn doesn’t?”
The chance to start over where no one knows me as a former drug addict.
“A job, an NA sponsor, and a six-month sublet,” I said, mustering a smile. “No fear; if my new city chews me up and spits me out, I’ll be back in NYC by Christmas.”
“You’re going to do great,” Beckett said, pulling me into a hug.
I clung tight. “Thank you.”