Chapter 8
Ewing recovered, but he still didn’t come home.
He texted me, saying the doctor told him he shouldn’t get too worked up right now.
Magnolia really didn’t hold back with that slap.
As I pressed a boiled egg to my cheek, trying to soothe the swelling, I realized it had gone cold.
Just like love.
Was I making a big deal out of nothing?
Back in our junior year, during a noisy break in one of our evening classes, I finished a design sketch for Ewing. He couldn’t help but poke me in the back and blurted out, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
I stared at him, confused. He spoke again, fast and barely above a whisper, “I’m serious. I want to date you.“%
I can still picture his face in that moment–earnest, nervous, determined.
And I’ll never forget, after graduation, how he crossed half the country to come to my city. I sobbed into his shoulder, overwhelmed and relieved.&
Or that New Year’s Eve, just after I’d finished my grad school exams. He surprised me by showing up unannounced, and when the fireworks went off, he suddenly appeared with a kitten he knew I’d been dreaming about.
Then, in the soft glow of those fireworks, he asked–with more sincerity than I’d ever seen–if we could get married once we both had stable jobs.&
We went apartment hunting together. When the realtor asked what kind of place he liked, he waved his hand and said, “Don’t ask me–whatever my wife wants, that’s what I want.“2
He was always so good to me–as long as Magnolia wasn’t around.
My mom said, “He didn’t cheat on you. After all these years, you two barely even argued. And now you’re willing to throw it all away just because he had a few meals and conversations with another woman? Can you really let him go?”
I just couldn’t understand. Everything was moving forward so smoothly, so happily. All we had to do was keep going. Why couldn’t he let go of Magnolia?
I remembered that day in the noisy classroom, when he looked at me so seriously. We stared at each other for a long moment, and I don’t know what came over me, but I nodded. He instantly relaxed, grinned, spun his pen, and said, “Next time, don’t be shy about asking me for help with your assignments. You can ask your boyfriend anything.“&
God, I wish I could go back to that moment.
Ewing texted me, too: said the light in my eyes was gone when I looked at him.)
He used to be all light. There was a moment when it suddenly faded–he just became a speck of dust in the universe. I tried so hard to remember what he looked like when he shone, but I couldn’t.
Then I realized that light was there the first time I saw her in his eyes.
Voice trembling, I asked him, “You can’t let go of your first love, but I refuse to be your consolation prize.”
I always kept my cool. Never cried in front of him, never let him see my weakness or how much I was hurting. I thought I’d handled the breakup with perfect self–control and rationality.
But when I curled up in bed, clutching the covers, I realized just how much it hurt, how much I cared about the moment Ewing let his heart drift away from me.”
From disappointment to arguments to distance and finally to heartbreak–it was always going to end in goodbye.
Some roads, once you walk them, there’s no turning back.
Even if I still loved him, I knew we couldn’t go on.
Love is fragile, it can’t survive too much wear and tear.
It was time for my dad’s follow–up appointment.
Ewing still refused to see me face–to–face.
After the checkup, my mom said, “You and Ewing aren’t getting any younger. Maybe it’s time you two got married.“@
I thought about it and told her honestly, “Mom, maybe we just aren’t meant to be”
She hesitated, then sighed. “What matters most to me is that you’re happy, that you’re cared for Don’t lose yourself.”
The tears finally came.
I took time off work and spent three days showing my parents around the city.
When it was time to say goodbye, I posted a group photo online–one last snapshot of a family trying to hold it all together.
