One True Loves(77)

“I’m really, really angry, deep down in my heart. And I wish that I didn’t feel that way and I hate myself for feeling it. But I’m furious that you could fall in love with someone else. I know you say that it doesn’t mean you forgot me, but, you know, at least right now, it sure sounds like it to me. And I’m not saying that we couldn’t get past that, if everything else about us made sense, but . . . I don’t know.

“I’m mad at you and I’m mad at Friendly’s for turning into a Johnny whatever you called it. I’m mad at almost everything that changed without me. I know I need to work on that. I know it’s just one of the strings of issues that I’m facing. I know I said that now was supposed to be the easy part but I don’t know why I thought that. Coming home is hard. This was always going to be hard. I’m sorry I didn’t see that until now.

“Of course I’ve changed. And of course you’ve changed. There is no way we could be the same after losing each other; we meant too much to each other for that to happen. So, I guess what I’m saying is that I’m miserable and I’m angry, but I guess I do get it. What you said in that letter makes some sense to me. You had to let go of me if you were ever going to have a chance at a normal life. I know you loved me then. I know it wasn’t easy. And, obviously, I know this is hard for you, too. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t see what you see.”

He puts his arms around me, pulling me close to him, and then he says what has taken us days to understand.

“We loved each other and we lost each other. And now, even though we still love each other, the pieces don’t fit like they used to.”

I could make myself fit for him.

He could make himself fit for me.

But that’s not true love.

“This is it for us,” Jesse says. “We’re over now.”

I look in his eyes. “Yeah. I think we are.”

After everything we’ve been through, I never predicted it ending like this.

Jesse and I stay still, holding each other, not yet ready to fully let go. His hands are still a little bit frozen. I take them in my own. I hold them, sharing the heat of my body.

He pulls one hand away to brush a hair off of my face.

I think, maybe, this is what true love means.

Maybe true love is warming someone up from the cold, or tenderly brushing a hair away, because you care about them with every bone in your body even though you know what’s between you won’t last.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” I say.

Jesse puts his chin on my head, breathing in. And then he pulls away slightly to look at me. “You still don’t have to be back until late tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“So we can stay,” he says. “For another day. We can take our time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying that I know what’s ahead of us, but . . . I’m not ready yet. I’m just not ready. And I don’t see why we can’t spend a little bit more time with each other, a little bit more time being happy together. I’ve waited so long to be here with you; it seems silly to squander it just because it won’t last.”

I smile, charmed. I consider what he’s saying and realize that it feels exactly right to me, like being handed a glass of water just as you realize you’re thirsty. “That sounds good,” I say. “Let’s just have a nice time together, not worry about the future.”

“Thank you.”

“OK, so until tomorrow, you and I will leave the real world on the other side of that door, knowing that we will face it soon. But . . . for now, we can let things be the way they were, once.”

“And then tomorrow we go home,” Jesse says.

“Yeah,” I say. “And we start to learn how to live without each other again.”

“You’ll marry Sam,” Jesse says.

I nod. “And you’ll probably move to California.”

“But for now . . . for one more day . . .”

“We’ll be Emma and Jesse.”

“The way we were.”

I laugh. “Yeah, the way we were.”





Jesse builds a fire and then joins me on the sofa. He puts his arm around me and pulls me into the crook of his shoulder. I rest my head on him.

It feels good to be in his arms, to be satisfied with this moment, to not wonder what the future holds. I relish the way he feels next to me, cherish the joy of having him near. I know I won’t always have it.

It starts snowing again, small flurries landing on the already white ground. I get up from Jesse’s arms and walk over to the sliding glass doors to watch it fall.

Everything is quiet and soft. The snow is white and clean, not yet crushed under the weight of boots.

“Hear me out,” I say, turning back to Jesse.

“Uh-oh,” he says.

“Snow angels.”

“Snow angels?”

“Snow angels.”

As soon as we step out into the snow, I realize the flaw in my plan. We will sully the unsullied snow by walking in it. We will crush the uncrushed just by being here.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Jesse asks me. “Imagine how good it will feel to watch a movie inside by the fire.”