Unbreak My Heart(50)

“The dog is very lovable.”

“You’re very lovable.”

She sighs tenderly. “You know I’m stupid in love with you. But I need to know I’m not a crutch. I’m not asking you to never be sad, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to fake your emotions about anything when you’re with me. But I don’t want to jump back in and then learn you’re not truly ready.” She pauses like she’s prepping to say something hard. “Are you? For real now, good times and bad times?”

So damn ready that adrenaline is coursing through me, anticipation winding tight in me. And hope too.

“I’m ready, for good times and bad times. Seeing the doctor, hearing about Ian—it was just that. It was a good time, and a bad time. But I made it through. And after I saw him, the first thing I wanted to do was see you, but I knew I had something else to do first.”

“What’s that?” She asks curiously.

“I wrote letters to Kate and Omar and Trina and Mrs. Callahan and Jeremy. Kana too. And even my sister.”

“You did?” There’s a note of sweet surprise in her voice.

“Yeah, like a twelve-stepper. I apologized to some of them for the times I was a dick. And to the others, I thanked them all for the different ways they helped me. They won’t get the letters for a few days, but I need them to know they matter to me.”

“I’m proud of you,” she says in a wobbly voice.

“Why does that make you proud?”

“Because most people don’t do that. They don’t see the opportunities every day to let the people in our lives know they matter. And you did it.”

I tell her more about what the doctor said, and how everything clicked for me the day before. “I knew before I went to see the doctor. I knew when I was finally ready to know. Ian made his choice, and it was driven by what he needed to be happy. The thing is, I’m not sad anymore,” I say, and it feels good to voice this. “Well, it’s a different kind of sad. A kind I can live with, that’s not crushing me. But I feel as if a burden has been lifted. I understand him even better now. He was always the person I was closest to, and losing him devastated me. And at first, I wished he’d shared everything with me, but now I know why he didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he knew I’d have been a selfish shit,” I say, laughing.

She laughs too. “You would not.”

I nod savagely. “Oh, I would. I absolutely would have begged him to fight, to take anything to live longer. But it was his choice. That’s what I see now.” I take a breath. “We all have choices. And I made the choice, too, to deal with all this on my own. Without assistance. Without you, Holland. Because you’re not my fucking drug. You’re the love of my life, and I don’t want to spend another second talking to you on the phone when we’re in the same city. Can I please see you now?”

This time there’s no pause. No tentativeness. No distance. “Come to Harajuku.”

“Do you know that vendor who sells potato sticks with sriracha sauce?”

She scoffs. “Do I know it? Or do I worship at the altar of sriracha-covered potato sticks?”

I laugh. “They are indeed worthy of prayers. Can you meet me there in thirty minutes?”

“Yes.”



*

The longest minutes I’ve ever spent sludge by as I wait, pacing the platform like a caged animal for the next train. When it appears, I want to reach out, stretch my arms, and yank it closer. Finally, it stops, and the doors slide open. A few stops and a few minutes later, I’m racing up the steps two at a time, and then I run across the street seconds before the traffic light turns red, the cars and cabs a few feet away from me.

I speed through the evening crowds, racing past fashion boutiques blasting pop music and street vendors selling big sunglasses. At the end of the street, waiting by the potato stick vendor, is the woman I love, holding a basket of the savory snack. I see my future, and it’s bright and beautiful.

She spots me, and her face lights up. I walk closer, and she does the same, and I’m sure my heart is beating outside my body. I want to hold her tight, to draw her in for a kiss, but there are things that need to be said first.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter. We can talk and eat potato sticks.”

We make our way out of the busy section of Harajuku and over to nearby Yoyogi Park where we find a bench under a tree, while twilight falls over the city.

I waste no time taking her down memory lane, just like we did the night before our first kiss ever. “Do you remember that time when we were in high school and our parents had a barbecue and we thought we were so cool because we sneaked away to go to the coffee shop?”

“Those were the best lattes I’d ever had.”

“How about that time in college when we got together and played Scrabble one weekend during the summer?”

“I beat you with savvy—double Vs and a double-word score, and it was awesome.”

“It was especially awesome because you wore this low-cut blue shirt, and I kept trying to sneak a peek.”

“Pervert.”

“I know, but in my defense, you’re crazy-hot, and it was hard not to look at you. It was even harder not to tell you how I felt about you.”