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Although I was being offered a temporary free room in Rosebridge, that didn’t make my reason for choosing the location immediately obvious. Julia knew that I had plenty of friends from all around the country who I’d met while traveling. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’d always been quite charismatic. I would have no problem finding a room with plenty of other people.
But I had chosen Rosebridge for a reason.
“I really liked it when I visited her. It had a nice vibe, as most college towns do. It seemed very liberal, and my friend said that there were quite a few popular street performance groups. And that’s where I need to go, somewhere people might be willing to throw a couple bucks at me to hear me play some amazing music. I need to go where I could potentially make a living.”
Although where we currently lived was a college town as well, it didn’t have much of an arts community. It was where you went for a business degree or law school. I couldn’t even think of a place where street performance might be appreciated. It just wasn’t that kind of city.
“Right, of course, because you couldn’t make money doing anything else…” she said bitterly.
Now I was starting to get annoyed. “What did I just say? Don’t do this, don’t guilt me for being me. I’m not the one who changed, you are. I’ve been the same person as I was the day you met me. I’m the same girl you fell in love with. So don’t push me to be another person.”
“And am I not the woman you fell in love with?” she asked.
I didn’t know how she could ask it. I didn’t know how she couldn’t already know my answer. And I probably should have refrained from the answering the question, but I couldn’t.
“No,” I said softly.
Her jaw dropped. “But you said…”
“That I still love you,” I finished for her, “and I do. Because I continued to love you after you changed, but… you really did change. You’re the one who messed this relationship up, not me.”
It was quite the accusation, but it was true. I had refrained f
rom saying it, because I hadn’t been looking to hurt her, but she didn’t seem to care about my pain. And, maybe, as I was walking out the door was the best time to express how I really felt.
“It’s really over, then?” she asked. “You truly don’t want what I do at all? Not even a little bit?”
I looked at her skeptically. “Did you really think there was a chance that wasn’t true? You really think I’d be moving out and on with my life if there was any way I could see myself fitting into your vision of the future?”
“I just don’t see what doesn’t appeal about it to you! What’s wrong with steady jobs? What’s wrong with steady income?”
“Uh, I don’t know, how about working your life away for a corporation who doesn’t give a shit about you? What about wasting hours of your life doing work you hate?”
“And then, because you do the work you hate, you can provide for your loved ones! You can take long, extravagant vacations and buy whatever you want!”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing I need to buy. There’s no material item I could get that would make me feel good about my life. All I really ever wanted was you, and… and I know I’m not going to have that anymore, so… no.”
“You still could,” she pushed. “I really think you’d adjust and see how perfect it all could be…”
This was it; this was when I needed to excuse myself. Because I’d meant what I’d said. I wanted her, and I was scared of being alone, so I feared what I might give in to. And I didn’t want to be a different version of myself. I liked who I was.
“I’ve got a train to catch,” I told her as I stood up and started to collect my vastly different suitcases.
I could see tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m not ready for what comes next,” she muttered.
“And neither am I. But we’ll both get through it, eventually.”
I was not tearing up. I refused. I refused to cry in front of her. I was going to stuff these feelings down and not revisit them. Not on the train, not when I reached my friend’s apartment, not any time in the future.
I’d done enough crying. Now, I needed to move forward.
I gave one last glance around her apartment, taking it all in. It was perfection; it truly was. From the actual hardwood floors to the granite slab countertops, it was luxury as I’d always imagined. And I couldn’t help but think about how this luxury was all she needed. This was what she wanted; this was what would make her happy.
But not me. I would never be happy this way.
I looked at her one last time before heading toward the door. “Goodbye, Julia.”
She didn’t say a word as I walked through the door.
