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It’s been a week since the graduation party at my mom’s—a week of restless nights and a sickening knot in my stomach that has only gotten worse as the days pass. I wish I could say that I found peace in my choice, happiness even, but I can’t seem to muster that feeling no matter how hard I try.
Bennett returned to the city the day after the party to start the process of moving into the studio apartment he leased—the apartment I’m expected to move into as soon as I get the rest of my things from my dorm moved over.
It’s taken me a lot longer to pack than either of us anticipated. I just can’t seem to get the motivation to move any quicker. I feel torn, depressed—uncertain of every single thing that stands before me.
I haven’t been able to commit to a job. I don’t know what it is, but nothing feels right. Bennett says not to worry that all of it will come with time and he can cover the bills until then. He still thinks my inability to accept a position comes down to how I feel about the companies that I’m interviewing with. God, I wish it were that simple.
Honestly, I’ve received two amazing offers and would normally be ecstatic to accept either one, but I just can’t seem to do it. I’ve picked up the phone more times than I can count to make the phone call, the one where I accept a job and finally settle on a path, but every time I hear the ring on the other end of the line, I panic and hang up.
Working on packing the contents of my desk into the last box, I look around my dorm room and wonder where the last four years have gone. My roommate, Joanie, moved out last week and now that the last of my things are being packed away the room is completely bare.
I let out a deep sigh, the sound echoing around me. What I wouldn’t give to rewind time—experience this all over again—and yet at the same time I’m so relieved that it’s finally over. There’s such a contradiction of emotions raging inside of me.
Reaching into the last desk drawer, I pull out some random pieces of paper with notes and reminders scribbled on them, some pens and post-its, but when I reach the very bottom I pause, every muscle in my body tensing.
Staring up at me is a much younger version of myself, one with a wide smile and happiness in her eyes. I forget what it feels like to be that girl. It seems like such a lifetime ago. Next to me in the picture is Sebastian—we’re laying on my bed, the camera outstretched above us. Instead of looking at the camera too, his eyes are locked on me, a wide smile on his lips.
With shaky hands, I retrieve the picture from the drawer and run my finger along the outline of his face. I remember the day this was taken. It was during winter break and Sebastian and I had holed ourselves up in my room for a week straight, him only leaving when my mom came home and coming back the second she left.
That was hands down the best week of my life.
It’s strange how it took seeing this picture to remind me that it ever even happened. A memory I once held so dear, pushed into the back of mind and discarded like so many others. I stored it all away—every moment, every kiss, every touch. I couldn’t bear to relive any of them because if I did I would have to remember what I lost, and that was something I simply couldn’t do.
I turn the picture over in my hands, the inscription on the back causing tears to well instantly behind my eyes.
My everything.
It’s only two words and yet those two words say more to me than anything else ever could. Because it reminds me of what that meant back then.
I close my eyes and let it all come back. Every single piece of the past I stored away. I let it flood through me, pulling me under until all I can see is Sebastian. All I can feel is Sebastian. All I want is Sebastian.
The last five years disappear and suddenly I’m there again—to the night where it all began. I can see everything so clearly—hear the noise of the party going on downstairs, feel the warm breeze on my face. And then I hear his voice, and my eyes shoot open.
Like being doused in cold water, the fog I’ve spent the last five years living in lifts and everything comes into focus. Bennett. Sebastian. My past. My present. My future.
I know what I want. I think I’ve always known.
Sebastian was right. I let fear rule my choices. Even though I couldn’t see it at the time, it’s now staring me right in the face—the truth that I’ve fought so hard to deny.
Shoving the picture into the back pocket of my jeans, I quickly empty the rest of the drawer into the box and tape it up haphazardly, only half paying attention to what I’m doing.
My mind is set on the task ahead. I don’t have to worry that I’ll chicken out or that I won’t be able to find the strength to do what I know needs to be done. I know I will. Because for the first time in a very, very long time, I’m prepared to fight for what I want instead of hiding from it.
***
Within an hour I have the last of my boxes packed into my car and am making the twenty-minute drive across the city to Bennett’s apartment. It’s crazy to think that after four years of living in New York that I can still manage to fit every belonging I have in the hatch of my run down old Jeep. I think I’m leaving with less than I came with, though I’m not sure how that’s possible.
Bennett meets me out on the street within moments of me pulling up to the curb prepared to help me carry my stuff upstairs. Jumping out of the driver’s seat, I stop him just as he rounds the back of my Jeep.
“I’m not staying.” I’m surprised I’m able to push the words out without my voice shaking.
He misunderstands.
“Okay, well let me carry this up first,” he offers, his hand freezing mid-air when the next rush of words leaves my mouth.
“No, Bennett. I mean, I’m not staying here. I’m not staying in New York.” He drops his hand and looks at me, eyebrows drawn in confusion.
“I don’t understand.” His warm chocolate eyes hold my gaze and even though I know I’m doing the right thing, my heart is still breaking for what that means for Bennett—for us.
