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He takes my hand, and the fucking baby hormones push tears out. He blurts out, “You had a dentist appointment on Tuesday.”
Confused by the non sequitur, I stop crying. “I did?”
“It was on my personal calendar. Sitting with my dad, I got a calendar alert, and it changed my life. You put it on our calendar, then I set a personal reminder on mine for your six-month cleaning. I imputed the address, so I’d know where you were. Which you scheduled in Los Angeles. It was our last shared entry.”
“Did you call them and let them know I wasn’t going to make it?”
“I need you to focus.”
“Totally distracted. Sorry.” Pregnancy brain. I shake my head to refocus. “Get to the part where this isn’t a booty call that will break our hearts all over again.”
“Right. Right. I didn’t, by the way.”
“What?” I say.
“Cancel the dentist.”
“I’ll call and apologize.”
He mocks me. “Point. Missing it. You believed in our future. You saw your life with me clearly. You made space in our calendar to tell me you had a dentist’s appointment, so I’d know where you were. You made it in LA, tacitly agreeing it was our home. And I made a doctor’s appointment and put in the address, so you would know where I was. I went looking in my Tess file on my phone. I found a running list in my reminders of your favorite take out. So that when I’d head home after work, I’d get something you’d like. I bought those aqua sheets to match the throw pillows you bought. I started using your shampoo so you’d never be out of it, and I wouldn’t forget what kind to buy. The next day there was a reminder. This time it was mine. It said get your oil changed. I realized I’d already made space for you. I overlooked it, as did you.”
“I overlooked what?”
“I was blinded by the decision of my father. He never saw them as sacrifices. I hung my independence on the Charlotte shit. I didn’t think I believed you could be both dependent and independent. You did. But so did I. I never told you I opened my life. I never made you understand how desperate I am to take back that drive to Huntington Beach the day of your accident and keeping my phone turned off. I will never stop trying to apologize and make up for ignoring your texts that night. I’m so sorry. So sorry. I never said that to you because I wasn’t willing to admit how wrong I was.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s not who I am or want to be. I was too stubborn to tell you because of my misguided feelings from all the Charlotte abuse. It was a lizard brain reaction. Then you moved in, and you expected me home. You never said I couldn’t work or hang with my friends. I assumed you would, so I lied. I wasn’t fair. I never gave you a chance. But you let your pain and doubts about me fester until they exploded. You didn’t put me first. You put your fear first. Fear that I didn’t want you at my house or in my life. That you’d lose me like your mom or tennis.”
“The perfect storm of miscommunication and stubborn behavior.”
“You were always top of my mind. I just didn’t notice until you were gone, and then my calendar, my home, and my life were empty.”
“Mine too.”
“I’m weeks away from the biggest election of my career, and all I want is to laugh and joke with you. Bitch about who does the dishes. Hell, I want to fight with you. I want you lying on my couch writing with your dry ass feet on my lap. I don’t want to live in a vacuum, sealed off from life. I didn’t have the language, and you were so blind with hurt and anger, you didn’t realize I was already in it with you. I’ve finally gotten out of my own way, and when I look back, I know I saw our whole life together when we were sitting at Al’s bar. Effortlessly. My brain just got in the way.”
I’m crying, not loudly, but soft, pretty, cinematic tears. I try to speak, but he interrupts me, “I did put you first, and I always will. I don’t know when it happened or when it shifted, but you’re still my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I just forgot to update my HR paperwork until now.”
“But the night I sent the shots…”
“The day we broke up.” He nods. “Own this with me. I ignored you and lied. I’ve already admitted that will go down in the top ten shittiest things I’ll ever do in this life. But, Tess, you ran away because you couldn’t face losing me. Because everything you’ve lost and fought for never turned out well. You got good grades, and your parents still got divorced. You rehabbed to come back, and you didn’t. You couldn’t stop cancer. I’m not those things, but you didn’t want to find that out. I actively and publicly put you first that night. Neither of us processed that.”
“Elaborate, please.”
“I abandoned work in the middle of the night. Calling everyone we knew. I jumped on a flight to Philly. I pulled staff off time-sensitive projects, and we ran two reruns of the podcast. We didn’t tape. We’ve only done that once—when Mark’s dad died. I used the interns to troll social media; Jeff got a military buddy to scan flight manifests. I had Ari check drone feed to prove you were in an Uber. Mikey was useless with worry calling Joan every ten minutes. She blocked him. He sent his mother over to pester her. I missed the HBO deadline. None of that mattered to me. I was out of my mind. I called your dad and bothered three other Alan McGuires, frantic with worry and stress. My only objective was your safety and being next to you. Proving you were all that mattered. Not work.”
“You never told me all of that.”
“I did, but we were angry. I was blind to the meaning behind all I’d done. None of it seemed heroic. I instinctually made sure the most important thing in my life was ok.”
I’m gobsmacked. He gave everything I could ever want, and I ignored it because it wasn’t how I expected it. “And then I broke up with you, convincing myself it was your fault. That you were the only one damaged.”
“Yes.”
I shift uncomfortably and tug my blouse down. “Have I mentioned I don’t like to lose?” He laughs a little too hard. “Our pain could have been avoided if I got out of my own way as well.”
“And then you left. In July, I couldn’t frame it all like this. It was your damn dentist appointment and car tune-up I’d scheduled that gave me perspective. Tess, you’re stamped all over my forever.”
