Page 26 of On the Way to You

“Ugh!”

I tugged my over-the-shoulder bag off, slinging it into the desk chair across the room before sliding the half-empty box of doughnuts on top of the desk. Kalo didn’t seem fazed by my temper tantrum as I hastily unclasped her leash, letting that drop to the floor with another huff.

Flopping down on the edge of my bed, I pulled off my sneakers, a juvenile curl on my lip as I replayed how sweet Emily had been to me. “I’m Emily. I’m a drop-dead gorgeous exotic free spirit with long beautiful hair who eats doughnuts and still manages to have a six-pack,” I mocked, rolling my eyes and turning to Kalo for reinforcement.

She just tilted her head.

“God, they evensoundcute together,” I said with a sigh, flopping back onto the bed. “Emery and Emily. Em and Em. Ugh.”

Kalo whimpered, her paw patting my hand like she understood. I ruffled her fur, still sour-faced as I reminded myself again how stupid I was being.I just need a hot shower,I told myself, sitting up on the edge of the bed again.And a good movie.

I texted Lily and Tammy both to let them know I was alive and well before stripping out of my clothes and letting the hot water from the shower wash away my frustrations from the day. It had been a weird one, especially since every other day of my life up until that point had been practically the same.

I still didn’t know why Emery leaving with Emily bothered me as much as it did, even after I’d dressed and climbed into bed for the night. I turned on the TV despite the uncomfortable pain in my stomach, trying my best to ignore it as I flipped through the channels.

Finally settling on an old Lifetime movie, I pulled the fluffy white comforter up under my chin with a sigh, feeling marginally better now that I was clean and warm. Emery’s journal was right where I’d left it earlier, and I peeked over at it, eyeing it like it was a giant bowl of pasta and I was on a no-carb diet.

“No, Cooper. Don’t even think about it.”

I spoke the words out loud, as if that would stop me, like Kalo would hear them and prevent me from grabbing the damn book even if I wanted to.

The air conditioning kicked on and I adjusted the comforter over my shoulders again, watching as the main actress in the Lifetime movie grabbed a knife off her kitchen counter, dropping to the floor with wide, terrified eyes. The man she’d once dated was crazy now, and he’d just broken into the house.

My eyes flicked to the journal and back again.

The actress screamed. He’d found her.

Kalo’s leg twitched with her dream and I reached for her, soothing the fur on her belly, eyes skirting off the screen again and back to the bedside table.

“Whatever,” I huffed, flipping the covers back and grabbing the journal off the desk. I looked around me, like there were cameras ready to catch me in the act. But it was just me. He was withEmily, I reminded myself.

And then I cracked open the leather binding, flipping to the third entry.

Marni is disappointed in me.

That’s my therapist’s name — Marni. I told her Grams gave me this journal three weeks ago, and she was excited I was finally going to give writing a chance.

Since then, I’ve only written two entries.

And so, Marni is disappointed in me.

I told her to join the club.

Today was a bad day. She knew it when I walked into her office and didn’t crack a joke or ask about her cat. I just sat down in the same chair as always and waited for her to ask how I was, to ask how I’d been. And when she did, I just said I was fine. Everything was fine.

Marni knew it was bullshit.

She wants me to write about that day. She thinks not acknowledging it is holding me back and preventing me from moving forward. She said writing about it will be easier than talking about it, because writing is free of judgement, writing is just for me to see and to think about.

I still think all of this is fucking stupid, but I’m tired of adding people to the list of those I disappoint, so here’s my attempt to write about it.

There was a break in the page, a little star between the two paragraphs, and my throat was tight as I continued reading. It was there in my stomach before I even read the next word, the knowledge that what I was about to see would change everything.

I just took a nap. Even thinking about writing about that day exhausts me. Even now, after sleeping half the afternoon away, I’m still just so… tired.

That day feels like a dream.

It’s been almost two months now, and it feels like forever ago and like it was just this morning. It feels like it was someone else and like it was me, too. It feels like I dreamed it and like it happened and I’m no longer here, even though I am.