I just don’t know what it’d take for the ground beneath me to feel stable, settled. And I don’t think I know how to trust that groundwork anymore. But Zac seems like he knows, and I’m glad for him, even if a bit dejected for myself.
I close the door and roll the window down an inch. “Take care of yourself, Zac.”
“You too, Robyn.”
For the longest time, while we were together and even afterward, I didn’t see it. Even now, it’s a trickle of little memories. Like one of the many nights I got to Nate’s apartment much later than I’d planned. My mind was still half at the hospital, turning over details, possibilities, next steps.
His apartment was dim, the kitchen light left on like a beacon for me to find him. And Nate was there, leaning against the counter, a beer in his hand.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”I set my bag down, nudging my shoes off with my toe. I tracked the clean counters and tidied up living room. The way he did every night before going to bed because he liked waking up to an organized home. I suppose he still does. And under a dome on the kitchen island, I just knew, there was also a warm plate of food waiting for me. No quiet reprimand that he’d expected me earlier, just a sign that no matter when I came home, he’d be there.
“It’s been a day,” I said, not looking at him while opening the fridge for a beer.“There’s this case?—”
I glanced over my shoulder then, out of habit more than intention.
He’d shifted, just slightly, turning back toward the counter, one hand flattening the edge of the paperin front of him, smoothing it even though it wasn’t wrinkled. His beer was on the counter, and his shoulders were sharper than when I’d first walked in.
I turned back to the fridge and kept talking. Without a thanks or recognition that not only had he eaten alone again, but he’d made sure I didn’t have to. Filling the space the way I always did, assuming it still worked the same way it always had.
At some point, his silences got loud enough I couldn’t ignore them, and all I did was worry about what would happen eight to six months later if I didn’t work harder. I let his silence grow, but not because I didn’t care. Because I thought we were solid enough to hold on our own. We were… until we weren’t.
Nate kissing Tessa is on him. But not realizing how much I’d stopped seeing him—that part’s on me.
I pull away from the curb, Loam & Latte already just another storefront in the rearview mirror.
My lamp ison the dimmest setting, enough to read but not enough to feel exposed. I’m lying in my armchair, feet braced against the backrest, head curled on the armrest. The book lies open on my chest, chapter seven dog-eared. My phone buzzes against the hardwood floor.
Nate:Are you done yet? It gave me a lot to think about. In a good way.
I smile into the chair, sure he can’t see me.
Me:Tell me more.
A pause then three dots appear, disappear, and reappear. It’s been a month since the first time I let Nate see I joined him and the second week we’ve chatted back and forth. It’s scaryhow much I’m enjoying this dysfunctional book club with my ex.
Nate:The brain does more than recognize beauty, it predicts it. Our brains like to anticipate what comes next, and there’s a rush of serotonin when it gets it right.
I shift, the chair creaking as I hook one ankle over the backrest, the book sliding lower on my chest. His words are familiar and comfortable. A little dangerous.
Me:That’s why buildings get your brain going even if you don’t know the theory behind them.
I slide again so my legs dangle over the side, the book slipping to my stomach.
Me:Your brain fills in the gaps based on symmetry and pattern recognition.
I picture him nodding—eyes bright, already halfway into an explanation. If I were to flick gaze up, across the compound, I’d be looking into his living room. I resist the urge test how thin this distance really is.
Nate:Unfinished spaces make people uneasy. Exposed beams, weird sightlines. The brain keeps trying to resolve it and can’t.
I want to pull my eyes off the ceiling, but I keep them locked on an uneven speckle of paint.
Another buzz.
Nate:You have to let your audience be right, but not all the time, or they’ll get bored of it. Like with a good movie.
I smile. Nate has always had a knack for drawing inferences and coming up with unique similes. It makes him a great architect because he can turn it all into blueprints.
