Mine Would Be You
K. Jamila
Dedications
I.
For anyone scared of love—keep dreaming, keep believing. Love will come to you.
II.
To Jules—I love you to Saturn and beyond. I hope the love you deserve finds you when you’re ready and I hope it’s the brightest light in the sky.
Playlist
“Traitor” – Olivia Rodrigo “Older” – Sasha Sloan
“Mine Would Be You” – Blake Shelton “Enchanted” – Taylor Swift “Notice Me” – Role Model “I Guess I’m In Love” – Clinton Kane “Take My Time” – Harry Hudson “Wanted” – Hunter Hayes
“Homesick” – Kane Brown
“Pessimist” – Julia Michaels “Kiss Me” – Sixpence None the Richer “Hey Stupid, I Love You – JP Saxe “Get Away with It” – Lacy Cavalier “King of My Heart” – Taylor Swift “Put Me Back Together” – Caitlyn Smith “My Somebody” – Trent Harmon “Missing Piece” – Vance Joy “Stone” – Alessia Cara
“All I Need” – Christina Aguilera “Lucky Ones” – Lana Del Rey “Butterflies” – Kacey Musgraves “Daylight” – Taylor Swift
“Do you miss him or the idea of him?”
Her eyes gaze into mine from her seat across from me in the gray and blue office space as I contemplate the question. I cross and uncross my legs, leaning into the black leather couch. Its warm, supple material feels comforting on my back. The theme of the room folds around me like a blanket: gray and yellow accents, the gray armchair she sits in, light yellow walls. A desk is pressed against the wall to my left, and two full bookshelves add color on either side. My feet tap lightly on the shag carpet.
“I miss parts of him, the familiar parts, the good parts. I’m over him,” I sigh, rolling my lips into my mouth. “But this wave of . . . missing him hit me last week, and it hasn’t gone away.”
The sight of my therapist’s round face morphing into a smile provides a sense of comfort. As if my sentiment is normal. Expected even.
“It’s normal to miss someone who was a part of your life for so long. It doesn’t mean you’re not over him.”
I let out the breath I was holding deep in my diaphragm.
“Myles was a big, important part of your life. He was around for a lot of big events. High school, graduation, the beginning of college, and unfortunately, the beginning of your postgrad life. It’s okay to miss him.” She pauses. “Do you have any desire to get back together with him? If he came back, would you give him another chance?”
The answer is immediate. I know without a doubt, even in the depths of my brain currently flooded with all the things he did right, I don’t ever want to date him again. Ever since I started therapy almost two years ago, I knew I didn’t want to be with him after everything. I just needed a little guidance to help me see that.
“No.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that. It shows that the things we’ve worked on are in fact working. In times like this, when those feelings are reemerging, this is when you must remind yourself of why you don’t want to be with him. You have to remember the negatives.”
I look away from her prying eyes because for a long time, for most of my teen years and early young adult life, all I wanted was Myles. And I’ve been without these aching thoughts for so long that the sudden appearance of them is jarring. But Marissa is right. I have to remind myself of the list I made when I first started with her. Of all the negatives. Of every single reason I wrote down to remind myself I don’t want him.
Because I don’t.
“It just feels like a warning. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s like something is coming. Like he’s going to show up. I know that I’m probably insane, but it’s just a feeling.”
Since we ended things, I’ve had no insight into his life, aside from the last time I saw him, eight months ago outside my parents’ house in Brooklyn. When we first broke up years ago, we vowed to stay friends. Truthfully though, I couldn’t do that and watch his life on social media. He’s been muted on all accounts ever since. Allowing me to keep the façade of friendship open without torturing myself by watching his life play out. Without me in it.
“That’s not crazy, but I don’t want you to dwell on that. Instead, I want you to go home and find that list. Read them one by one, okay? Remind yourself of your own worth outside of his faults,” she says softly, as if she has a viewfinder into my thoughts.
My teeth grab onto the inside of my lip as I nod, and our session comes to a close. We schedule my next appointment like usual, every three weeks on Tuesday at 5:30 p.m. I exit the building, and my boots click on the dirty gray pavement of the New York city street as I make my way to the nearest subway station, consciously avoiding the drops of gum and the murky puddles.
The usual car horns and construction beeps of the traffic fade into the background as my thoughts run back to Myles. While I recognize these thoughts of missing him, it’s different than it used to be, back when I first started therapy. There used to be a twinge of pain or pricking at my eyes whenever I would think about him. A heaviness on my chest.