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I’d never agreed with anything more. Or been more devastated by a sentence in my life.
“I can’t… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you though.” How could I accurately explain just how much she meant to me? How she made me a better person? What good did it do for her to make me better if I turned her into someone she didn’t want to be or worse, put her in danger? “You’re right,” I said finally, meeting her eyes for the first time in a minute. “I’d never forgive myself for hurting you.”
“It’s not you though. Please, Jake. Don’t blame yourself.”
“How could I not?” I asked with a bitter laugh. “I’m irresponsible, foolish Jake Barrett, and my presence in your life causes you more heartache than you deserve. Sounds awfully familiar,” I mused. “I only want the best for you, Monica. For the first time in nearly eight months, I can’t convince myself that it is me.” With a glance at her teary eyes, I stood from the armchair and walked out of B&J Bistro.
ChapterTwenty-Three
MONICA
With things over with Jake, I threw myself into work and helping Rebecca as much as I could. It was during one of our afternoon friendship therapy sessions that she turned the tables on me.
“I’m tired of talking about me and Nathan,” she said with her iced coffee in hand. “It’s all anyone wants to hear about these days. I want to know about you. You’ve seemed pretty down lately,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve been down? This coming from the woman who hadn’t showered in five days until I made you this morning.”
“Hey, I’m not saying I’m the epitome of mental health or selling you my life coaching services. I’m just a troubled friend, concerned about my troubled friend.”
I reluctantly smiled at her wordplay. “Well, as long as we’re admitting that we’re both a mess,” I said.
“Let the record show, I willingly admit it,” she said with a laughing tone. “So, spill, sister.”
I buried my face in my hands briefly, wondering how to explain it.
“I broke up with Jake.” I wondered if by the end of the conversation, one might have said that he broke up with me, since he walked away so convinced he was the problem in all of this, even though that wasn’t the case at all.
“What? Why? I thought you two were doing great.”
“We were, I guess. But as I tried to get back to work, I realized just how much I didn’t want to be the flighty girl who can’t stop thinking about her boyfriend. I’d gotten in trouble at work and not taken things as seriously as I should have… and the reason I got in my accident in the first place was because I couldn’t stop myself from looking at his text message.”
“Oh, honey. I didn’t know that. I thought everyone said the other person hit you when you were standing still?”
I tipped my head to the side and reluctantly admitted. “Well, yeah. That’s true, but I didn’t see them coming because I was reading a text.”
She raised an eyebrow. “While not moving?”
I nodded.
“Monica, you can’t seriously think that makes you irresponsible or careless! You’re the most responsible person I know.”
“What about kissing my boyfriend in the supply closet at work when I should have been helping the new nurse with her meds order? Not exactly judicious!”
Rebecca shrugged. “We all make mistakes, Monica. We learn from them. Right? Were you in the supply closet so you could make out? Or because you were trying to hide your relationship?”
I thought back. My memory of the supply closet was very focused on the kissing part. But I tried to go back farther. I inhaled sharply when I realized we’d initially gone into the closet so we could have a conversation about our weekend plans. Something we couldn’t do back then with the risk of people overhearing. The kissing was just a moment of the encounter.
But now… I wouldn’t be sneaking off to have a conversation, and I would never consider having a lengthy rendezvous in the supply closet in either case. Still, was it realistic to chalk all of this up to mistakes and risk something catastrophic happening? Like it had when I was new to the emergency department?
“I don’t know, Rebecca. He makes me so…” I searched for the right word.
“Happy?” she finished softly.
I shook my head. “No. Well, yes. What I mean is… I’m not sure who I am around him. Or who I was anyway. I feel like before the accident he had me acting all out of character.”
“And what about after the accident?”
“What?”
