The Break(78)

FORTY-FIVE


June. Three days ago. Tuesday, November 8th.


I’m headed to the coffee shop to meet Rowan, and all I can think about is how awful I think all of them are for doing this to her. This horrible playacting, this sick charade. Harrison and I never even had a fight until this whole thing started, but he’s just as bad as Gabe and Sylvie for letting Rowan carry on like this, not remembering Gray. How much longer can they let this go on?

I push open the door to the café and scan the tables.

No. Freaking. Way. What is Sean doing here? Why is he talking to Rowan? I knew we shouldn’t have picked this coffee shop—it’s his favorite. I hurry toward the table because the last thing I need is him saying something that upsets Rowan.

I get closer to Sean and Rowan and that’s when I hear Sean say it:

“Are you even allowed to be out by yourself?”

Lila lets out a tiny whimper that sears me. Rowan opens her mouth like she’s going to defend herself, but she doesn’t. Her eyes fill with tears. And then I’m right there, my words slicing the air like a knife. “What did you just say?” I ask Sean.



Rowan looks up and sees me. Her face looks beatific, like she’s never been so happy to see someone before. I tug off my earmuffs. “What are you doing here?” I ask Sean.

I’m sure he can’t believe I’m on Rowan’s side, but that’s his own fault for not understanding me, for wanting me to be something I’m not, something he’s created in his own mind. A fantasy. And while he was busy building that version of me, he never got to know the real me. The one who would do anything for Rowan and Lila.

“I’m getting coffee, June,” Sean says.

I stare at him. He doesn’t make a move to leave, so I say, “I’ll see you later, Sean,” and force a smile.

Finally he goes. He doesn’t even bother getting coffee, so he’s probably super pissed at me.

I sit. “I’m sorry about him,” I say to Rowan, unwrapping my scarf and setting it on my lap. “I used to think he meant well and was just overbearing. But now I’m not so sure. Sometimes he worries me.”

“You should be careful, then,” Rowan says, but I wave my hand like it’s nothing. The last thing Rowan needs is to be worried about me. I tap my nails against the table and scan the menu on the wall. I try not to spend money at places like this, though Louisa says I’m getting a raise when she goes on maternity leave next year. I’ll be shuttling things back and forth from her apartment, and I’ve never been so happy that she’s old-fashioned and so much of our stuff is on paper, because that way I’ll have an excuse to see Louisa and the baby during those three months. The baby’s a girl, and Louisa already has a name picked out for her, but she’s too nervous and superstitious to tell me what it is, which I totally understand because of everything she’s been through.

“I got you a muffin,” Rowan says. “I wasn’t sure if you drank coffee.”

“Thanks,” I say. I unwrap it, and I want to eat it, but my stomach is so sick with nerves at the thought of telling her I can’t work for her anymore. Trust me, it’s not because I don’t love her; it’s because I do, and I can’t be a part of Sylvie’s egomaniacal game any longer. Even Louisa thinks it’s a bad idea. I get it: Sylvie’s top of her field. Sylvie is the trauma therapist, she’s the Miss America of the PTSD world. But I can’t watch them all do this to Rowan, playing along with her like Gray never existed, not telling her the truth about him. The worst is Gabe’s mom, Elena, who spends her time nervously fretting about the apartment and barely taking a break from crying (which I totally understand, because Gray was her grandson), but it’s hard to watch, especially now that Lila is starting to be awake more and making eye contact.

When I’m in Gabe and Rowan’s apartment and Lila locks eyes on me, the world stops spinning for just a second. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I definitely want to be a mom at some point. When Rowan and Louisa talk about babies, I just kind of get it. I mean, not yet, obviously.

“How’s she doing?” I ask Rowan about Lila. “I love her little dress.”

A smile lands on Rowan’s face. The love and pride she has for Lila, I know she would have that for Gray, too, and when I think of her losing him, how they tried to let her hold him and she couldn’t do it, I can hardly bear it. I start to cry, I can’t help it. When is she going to remember him?

“June,” Rowan says. She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry for what I did to you,” she says. She gives my fingers a squeeze, and when she lets go I wish she wouldn’t. “What I did was so terrible, and there’s no excuse,” she says, sounding almost frantic. “I think something’s wrong in my brain. Or at least, there definitely was in that moment. I just, I can’t even explain it.”

You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand. That’s what I want to say, but I’m worried I’ll blurt out the whole truth.

“I was sure that you had hurt the baby,” Rowan says in a low voice that I can barely make out over the commotion of the coffee shop. “And I was so terrified I couldn’t even think straight,” she goes on. “I don’t know if I had some kind of mental break or something, or what it was. I’m very, very sorry, June,” she says, and I try hard to stop crying, because I don’t want her to feel bad about any of this. That’s the last thing I want. “It’s all I can say,” she says. “Even though I know it’s not enough.”