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I watch the stars and moon bounce off the water. I close my eyes and open them again, to make sure I am not in a dream. I feel the air brush against my skin. I feel the metal railing on my fingertips. I feel relief flooding my body.
I am free and I am effervescent. Whenever I imagined being without Ryan, it was always him leaving me, getting tired of protecting me, realizing I didn't love him, realizing I was cheating on him. And, whenever I imagined being without Ryan, I always had a dull ache in my body. There was an empty spot that needed filling.
But now I see that Ryan was that empty spot. He was a black hole in my heart, sucking away any chance I ever had for happiness.
Maybe Ryan cared about me once. Maybe he even loved me. Or maybe he watched over me out of some misguided sense of duty.
Why didn't I do this sooner? Why didn't I listen to Luke sooner? Why did I spend so much time with someone who rooted against me?
I can see now how foolish I've been, staying with Ryan because I was afraid to fall apart. Sure, Ryan kept me from falling into my old habits, but he didn't keep me sane. He didn't make me happy. Spending the whole day in his penthouse, nothing to do but read or watch TV, was no life. I had no reason to try to get better. I had no reason to stay healthy. Sure, I followed my recovery diet. I went through my daily exercises. I even went to therapy, until I convinced Ryan to let me stop.
But I never tried. I never wanted to get better, not really. I never had a reason. Binging and purging was my only outlet, the only thing I could control. Even though I was “in recovery,” even though I hadn't purged in months, it was the only thing I looked forward to.
It worked for a while, in inpatient treatment, when I still believed I would go back to acting, when I still believed I could have a life. But once I moved into Ryan's condo and surrendered to his control, I gave up. I gave up on getting better. I gave up on keeping friends. I gave up on living my life.
Now, I have a second chance. I have a reason to get better again. I have my job.
And I have Luke.
Even if he's done with me—and, let's face it, I deserve it—I have the feelings he roused inside me. I know what it's like to feel alive again. I know what it's like to want again. I know what it's like to love.
It's not going to be easy. I've been ignoring my recovery for a long time, and I'm going to have to deal with it. I'm going to have to drag myself to therapy and suffer through the dread I feel when I go near a scoop of ice cream. It was easy to avoid binging when I followed strict rules, but I can't live my life by strict rules anymore.
I have to step out of my prison and into the world.
And I have to see if Luke will give me another chance.
I hear footsteps, but I don't turn to face them. I need to savor the possibility that it's Luke for as long as I can.
Then, he gets closer, and closer, until I can hear his breath. I turn around and my body floods with relief. I look up at Luke, his face lit by the yellow streetlamp, his expression hesitant.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
“This party is a real bust.”
“What about that crazy woman who caused a big scene breaking up with her fiancé?”
He looks at my hand again, his focus on my bare ring finger.
“So that was a forever breakup?” he asks. He moves a little closer to me. His fingers graze my arm. This is a good sign, right?
“Forever,” I say. “As in, I'm forever done with Ryan.” I look at the water. Luke must have heard what I said to Ryan, but he deserves to hear it again.
“So that 'I love him' stuff…was that for his benefit or mine?” Luke asks.
“I love you,” I say. “I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry it took me so long to leave Ryan. I never realized it was an option. I thought I'd never be okay without him. But I didn't realize I wasn't okay, not really.”
My fingertips graze his hand.
“Then, you came along to rouse me from my daze and force me to feel again. And it hurt to feel so much, to feel happy and jealous and miserable all at once. It hurt to want you so much,” I say. I look up at him, into his big, brown eyes. “I understand if you don't want to give me another chance. I probably don't deserve it.”
“You don't,” he says.
“Oh.”
“And I'd be smart to run now, and get the hell away from you,” he says.
