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That’s what you tell yourself. No harm in a tiny boost. And you believe it, because my god, it makes you feel so good. It makes you feel like you can take on the world. You come home at night, and those blue twinkling eyes are gone. She stares into a murky puddle and slowly slips into the void, but you smile and tell her everything is all right where you are. She wonders where that is and how she can get there, because you’re not with her. You’re disappearing.
When she tells you she’s worried, you tell her you love her. You tell her you’ll stop, you will, but oh god, if only she could feel it.
So you pour yourself into her. You make her feel good. When you’re inside of her, when you’re making love to her, she truly believes she can take on that tilting world.
But love is only as strong as the people who fuel it. And you? You’re Superman, thinking Kryptonite makes you invincible.
And the woman you love? She… can’t keep pretending any of this is normal. She can’t keep writing this as if somewhere along the way the plotline will fix itself. She can’t keep acting as if this isn’t her story.
You’re on a collision course, Jonathan. You’re hurling toward something none of us can see in the darkness, but whatever it is, it’s going to hurt. You think you’re in control, that you’re soaring, but you’re in a free-fall, and you don’t hear me when I try to warn you.
As I write this, you’re 2500 miles away. You’re in New York City, so close to home... or where home used to be. You’re working on another movie. It’s still dark here in LA, but the sun will have risen where you are by now, another day dawning. It was our third Dreamiversary yesterday. I spent it here without you.
It has been a bad year. There’s no way to sugarcoat it, no pretty words I can conjure up to turn it into something sweet, not when I’m so bitter. You’re the caterpillar that went into the cocoon and emerged a glorious butterfly, but I’m the reminder that butterflies don’t stick around long, a few weeks at most before they’re gone.
I’m not going to waste time detailing everything. I’ll want to change too much to make it fit with my version of you, the one who walked into that American Politics classroom nearly four years ago and stole my heart, but that guy isn’t here anymore. Where has he gone? He took my heart with him when he left, but I’m going to need it back. I’m going to need it for what’s to come, so I can try to protect it, so it doesn’t shatter when this new version of you hits bottom.
Because it’s coming, Jonathan. Your dream has become my nightmare, and I’m begging you to let me wake up.
You don’t know this, but the woman you love? The one you hung around for in New York when she was still just a girl, even though you were suffering, and wanting to go, but you stayed because of love? That woman, right now, is doing the same thing for you.
Chapter 25
KENNEDY
“Take a deep breath. Speak loud and clear. If you forget something, improvise. Got it?”
“Got it!” Maddie exclaims, bouncing from foot to foot and grinning at her father as he sits in front of her on the living room floor. The two of them are ‘running lines’, as Jonathan called it. She’s dressed up like Breezeo at the moment—said if she was going to be an actor, she needed a costume.
“Okay,” Jonathan says, glancing down at the small stack of papers in his hands, clearing his throat as he reads, “The weather—”
“Wait!” Maddie yells, covering the papers with her hands. “I’m not ready yet!”
“I thought you said you were.”
“I was, but...” She pauses, brow furrowing. “What is improvise?”
He laughs. “It means make something up. Say anything. You just don’t want there to be any awkward silence.”
“Oh, okay.” She moves her hands. “Got it!”
“Uh, you sure that’s really what you want to suggest?” I ask, sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. The TV is on but turned down low. “I’m not sure that’s the best advice.”
Jonathan glances my way. “Hey, who’s the actor here—me or you?”
“Me,” Maddie says, motioning to herself.
“I’m just saying, you know, improv might be a little advanced for the situation.”
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Maddie says, grabbing the sides of Jonathan’s face, squishing his cheeks as she forces him to look at her. “I’m ready now, but don’t do that part. Do my part.”
Jonathan flips through papers, skipping ahead. “Once a beautiful, fluffy cloud, I’m starting to feel so heavy and cold. Brrr. Oh no! I think I’m going to snow!”
I try not to laugh as he delivers that line.
