“Yeah, it is,” I agree. “But I think it’s a good weird.”
“I guess so,” she says. “You never did tell me about your ‘what-if’ girl.”
“I don’t think of her that way,” I tell her. “That sounds kind of pompous the way that came out, but I guess I’ve been idealizing her the way I idealized you.”
“Be careful there,” she says. “I don’t know her, and I certainly can’t predict the future — if I could, I’m pretty sure that breakfast and a conversation on a day like today would have still taken me by surprise — I’m just saying that we’ve both been there and look where we’re at now.”
“Yeah,” I respond. “I would tell you to be careful, but I think it might be a little late for that.”
“Probably,” she says, and snickers.
“Still, though, I don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m probably going to be pissed off at you for a while, and I don’t know if we’re going to be able to be friends or not, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring.”
“You know,” she says, “I think this is the most civil, open conversation we’ve had with each other for a very long time. How’s that for irony?”
“Maybe it’s because neither of us feels like we have to pretend that everything’s been just fine between us. I don’t know about you, but I feel like a huge load has been lifted from my shoulders.”
“Yeah,” she says, “me, too. Jace?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think, someday down the line that we actually could go back to being friends?”
“Honestly,” I tell her, “I don’t know. Even though we’re having this refreshingly pleasant conversation, there’s still a big part of me that wants to start yelling and throwing shit. I don’t know if it’s just instinct or what, but I think it’s going to take me a while to really forgive you for everything.”
“That’s fair, I guess,” she says. “To tell you the truth, there’s still a big part of me that wants to go back in the living room and start tossing your shit out the window just so I can lock you out when you go down to try to salvage what doesn’t get picked up by people on the street.”
“I think we’ve been holding each other emotionally hostage for a while, and I don’t know if we’re ever really going to be able to get past that,” I tell her. “If it helps, though, I hope we can.”
“Yeah,” she says and smiles, “me, too.”
I finish making her breakfast and we eat one last meal together. We don’t talk much while we’re eating and even less while we’re waiting for the moving guys to show up, but all things considered, I think things went pretty well.
The movers load everything up faster than I would have expected, so when it’s time for us to say goodbye, it comes and goes very quickly.
I don’t bother lecturing her, but I do tell her not to let her heart get broken by someone who’s never going to make himself completely hers. We both know what that’s like.
Now, as I’m closing the door behind her, I can’t help but think of what she said about Grace.
How much have I been idealizing Grace, and how much of what I feel toward her is based on who she actually is?
Maybe there’s no easy answer to that problem, but Melissa was right: that’s exactly what we were doing with each other before we got together. “Look where we’re at now,” she said.
As I look out the window of the apartment, it’s easy enough to see exactly where we are now.
I wasn’t lying when I said that I don’t hate her, but after all we’ve been through, despite what wonderful friends we used to be, I can’t look at her, even now from four stories up, without feeling a mixture of anger and this sick feeling that I can’t quite put into words.
Is that what’s going to happen to Grace, or are we ever going to get even that far?
I guess there’s no use speculating about it. The only thing I can do is see what happens and try to keep my eyes open.
Still, there’s a sour taste in my mouth that was never there before, even when I first found the video.
I don’t know if I’m going to be able to really trust anyone right now, even Grace.
It’s not her fault, and really, it’s not entirely Melissa’s fault, either. It’s the result of the simple truth that I don’t know how to be happy with the person I’m with.
It could be that that’s just the way I am, that it’s never going to change. It could be that that’s the result of a multitude of past failed relationships.