Page 145 of Come to Me

Full of promise.

I had someone I loved, someone who loved me back.

Without her...

I knew it would fucking hurt, but I couldn't anticipate how much.

But, even through the pain, I know it was the right thing to do.

Alyssa deserves to be as in love with someone as I am in love with her.

And I deserve the same.

The days pass slowly. Usually, at times like these, I'd work until I was too numb to feel anything. After my mother died, after my father died, after every fight with my damn ex, I'd fill every waking moment with whatever semi-productive activity I could find.

But I can't bring myself to put in an extra 20 hours at the office. I love my job. I love helping people in miserable marriages get divorced.

But there's so much more to life than working.

Even the painful moments with Alyssa made me feel alive, connected.

I don't think I can ever look at work the same again.

And I don't think I want to.

So I make plans to go back to my old schedule, the one I kept when I was convinced I could make things work with Samantha if only I had more time. I arrive at nine every morning and leave at six every night.

The house is lonely without Alyssa.

It's going to take some adjusting. Well, a lot of adjusting.

I do my best to clean up--to put aside anything I know she'll need immediately. There isn't much, really. She has her clothes, her plays, her coffee maker.

Really, the only thing she'll care about is her pour over coffee maker.

Every Sunday morning, she measures her water and coffee carefully, so she can make the perfect cup of coffee. I'm sure she does it every morning. But, for so long, we weren't spending the mornings together. She had an early call time, or she was off, and I wanted her to sleep in.

I place the appliance in a paper bag. I bought it for her eight or nine months ago.

Packing it up... isn't easy.

But what the fuck is going to be?

I rub at my chest, but it doesn't do anything to alleviate the heaviness.

Doesn't matter if it hurts. I have to do what I have to do.

Late that night, Alyssa leaves a message. Her voice is soft, tired.

"Hey, Luke. I hope you're doing well. I miss you, but... I won't get into that. I'm going to stop by for my things tomorrow morning. Around ten or so. Let me know if you'll be there." The message ends with a long stretch of silence.

She sounds miserable, defeated.

But this is a necessary step, a necessary moment of pain.

Alyssa is going to move on. She's going to be happier in the end.

I’m too deep in the dark to think the same of myself quite yet.