I wouldn’t say Eli’s thoroughly acclimated to the city yet, but he’s learned to appreciate the days when the sun peeks beyond the ever-present clouds and to soak in the vitamin D.
“You want to keep trekking?” He nods toward the stairs leading down to the quay along the Seine, and it gives me pause. “Or we could head back to the apartment if you aren’t feeling up to it.”
“Oh, no. I’m okay, it’s just ...” My eyes stay trained on the spot where Liam danced with me along the Seine, and I swear I can see the ghost of us there, even now.It’s okay if a good memory makes you feel sorrow. Don’t feel guilty about it, just feel.My therapist’s words coach me through the moment. I’ve only had a few sessions with her, but I can already tell how necessary it was. How everything was knotted and whirled in my mind, and now we’re slowly untangling it. I can feel my bundle of anxiety and doubt steadily unraveling with each tug on another thread. I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. “This is where Liam took me on my birthday, that’s all. But I think we should try to walk it.”
“You sure?” Eli raises a brow.
“Positive.” I nod, feeling nowhere near confident inside, but it’s okay if this hurts. It just means there was a moment in my life so absolutely gorgeous that I’m missing it, even now. I don’t know if the ache will ever genuinely dull.
We walk down the cobblestone path, passing picnics and sunbathers as the water laps to the shore. The weight of Liam’s hand presses into my back, and my chest awakens with the sensation of his body against mine. Gooseflesh prickles the nape of my neck as I remember him singing soft and low against my ear.He loved me.I’ve tried to process the thought so many times in the past few months. Tried to get my brain to comprehend his words the day we parted. But I haven’t been able to get there, not yet, anyway. Eli was right: I let the words and actions of other people strip away my love for myself until it had all but vanished, and I need to find that self-love again, or no relationship I have will ever build itself on solid footing.
My therapist has been helping me see this, helping me see that beyond the familial issues, I had somehow wrapped my disease around my identity, and because I’ve always been at war with it, I could never see any of the good past it. It made sense when she explained how easy it is to confuse the two. Because I can’t see my disease, it manifests itself in the pain I feel inmybody. But it’s not me.
It’s a part of my lived experience, yes.
But that’s different.
Give yourself the grace you give others.That’s another lesson I’ve been trying to learn, but it helps because if Liam had something like this, I would recognize his reality, but it wouldn’t alter my love forhim.It wouldn’t limit how much I want him to be a part of my life. Even now. Even if I blew it. So I shouldn’t let it change how I expect others to see me.
Standing here, watching the sun glitter off the blue expanse of the river, I get it now.He loved me.The man who bought me a heat pack. The man who always made sure my heating pad was on. The man who brushed up on puns for me. Who sent me postcards for years with zero intention of getting any credit for it. The man who dressed up as Gene Kelly and encouraged me to fight for my dreams. He saw me and he still loved me.And those were the wild, intimate moments that mattered.
I’ve been trying to detach myself from the societal pressure that sexual intimacy is the be-all-to-end-all in a relationship. Because a relationship is a sum of its parts, not this one defining feature. Do I wish it was easy and amazing for me to have sex? Absolutely. Is that reality? Unfortunately, no. But that doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of being in a loving relationship.
Eli leans in, nudging my shoulder with his. “Evie. Call him.”
“I don’t even know what I’d say. It’s not like he can take the job now.”
Eli purses his lips. “No, I guess not, and have I said thanks, by the way?”
“Watching you two be insufferably adorable and not fearing I’ll have to pick up the pieces is enough.” I wave him off.
Eli stuffs his hands in his pockets, his tattoos peeking beneath a white-collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “I’ve heard a pastry shop would do really well in a town like Portsmouth once or twice, and it would save you the embarrassment of submitting your lackluster visa application.”
The thought has crossed my mind a good hundred times since I boarded the plane after Caleb’s wedding, I’m not going to lie. And it is awfully tempting. But for all the journaling, reading and community boards I’ve looked through the past two months, I am still an incredible weenie at heart. I groan. “I know, but that’s such a huge, life-altering decision. And why is adulting so hard?” I spiral. “In the movies, they get a damn sign or something, and they just know what they’re supposed to do. But out here, it’s not that simple. There are seven million options, and you just have to hope you don’t mess up, pick the wrong one, and live with a lifetime of regrets. Seriously! Paris, do you still love me? Should I stay here and move on, or am I making a huge mistake?” I turn my attention to the sky, arms out. “Can I just have a sign? Is that too much to ask?”
A well-dressed child turns up a flock of pigeons at that moment, and they fly around Eli and me in a frenzy. I blink as a pigeon slaps me in the face with its wing, then take a step on my heel and land right in the path of a falling sludge of bird poop. It drips slowly down my forehead, and I wipe at it with disgust.
Very funny universe.
Eli’s face waffles between horror and amusement. “Well, little shit.” He laughs. “I think you have your answer.”
I’m not going to pretend being bitch-slapped by a bird knocked any kind of sense into me. It was probably the mail I received a few days later that had the bigger impact. Either way, I’ve spent more time in the past five days looking at shops in New Hampshire and figuring out places to apply for grants and loans than I had in the past year.
A shiny cardstock sears into the top of my thigh where it’s perched. I haven’t let it go since it came in. The front has a picture of a lobster sitting in a cage on a boat, “’tis the sea-son for the Maine attraction,” written across it.
Tallow News Report,
The Rausch’s apple orchard and farm opened up today. They’re selling cinnamon rolls on Saturdays. Clare and Holly get so excited. It’s kind of a-dough-rable.
I’ve seen nicer buns, though.
The town beach and camping ground were closed because of an E.coli outbreak. Apparently, you aren’t supposed to feed the geese, further proving that no good deed goose unpunished. If anyone asks, Caleb and I had nothing to do with it. We just went to the lake for a gander.
Not entirely sure how to sign this now,
But I guess “Liam” is a good start.
So...
