The Break-Up Retreat(93)

Strangers, on the other side of the world, giving her advice, as though it was all so easy; as though a whole person, two whole people, could be distilled down to a few easy sentences, a few easy steps to follow.

Some part of her was angry with them, for not knowing her very pain; for not understanding how very scared and lonely she was without Susannah, how utterly unmoored. None of them could know the thousands of lovely little moments, the long, slow mornings in bed they had spent together, the way Susannah used to kiss her eyelids and tap out love in Morse code on her naked hip.

Some other part of her, a stronger, better part, probably, knew that they were right. Knew that a thousand good moments couldn’t make up for how small and worthless she had felt, toward the end. That part was what had led her to post her innermost secrets anonymously on the internet for strangers to see, in the hope that she could make herself listen.

That part knew she had to stay strong. Had to shut Susannah out of her life, once and for all. Had to forget how good Susannah could make her feel, and remember the feeling of a lip splitting under an open palm. The bone-deep shock of staring into her fiancés eyes and realize there was nothing there but contempt.

Linn looked at the little Smurf clock by the computer. Susannah had said she’d stop by at 8 PM . The round, bright-blue clockface showed that it was three minutes ’til.

Her stomach clenched.

Linn leaned back in the ergonomic office chair she’d bought herself as a present a few weeks ago and closed her eyes.

After this, it will be over, she told herself.

It should have made her feel better. So why did it make her want to cry?

Susannah had asked for a good ending. She’d said that they had loved each other deeply, and that they owed each other closure.

Susannah loved that word. Closure. During the course of their relationship, Linn had come to learn a lot about what Susannah loved and didn’t love.

She loved what she called good communication, which meant they had to talk for hours about what Linn had done or not done to upset Susannah, which almost always ended in Linn crying and begging for forgiveness.

She loved working on herself, and on her trauma. And on Linn, and what she called Linn’s trauma. She always liked to call back to her own trauma, when Linn tried to push back on something, and she liked to refer back to Linn’s upbringing to explain why Linn was so emotionally stunted.

She loved self-help books, especially those written by psychologists. More than anyone, she loved Doctor Martina Hastings, who she called her guru. A few months before Linn had broken off their engagement, she’d even suggested they go to Doctor Hastings’s therapeutic retreat together. To work on their communication. Or, more accurately, Linn’s communication.

She didn’t love the way Linn wore her hair. Or the way Linn talked to her. Or to other people. Or the fact that Linn preferred to snack during the workday, rather than eat big, sturdy meals, a habit Susannah insisted would disrupt her body’s natural rhythm.

She didn’t love Linn’s collection of Smurf-themed kitsch, which she called childish, or Linn’s job, or the way Linn had decorated her apartment. A few months in, she had made Linn get rid of the teddy bear she’d had since she was a kid. She had called it infantile, and said it was a sign of regressive thinking.

Linn missed that teddy bear, now. She missed it every night, as she was trying to go to sleep, trying not to mind the emptiness of the bed. Trying not to cry into the pillow. Trying not to miss Susannah.

The doorbell rang. Linn’s eyes flew open.

She felt a surge of excitement. Or maybe fear.

Nausea swirled in her stomach, and for a moment, she was overtaken by an urge to ignore it. To stick her fingers in her ears like a kid and wait until the sound went away.

Knowing Susannah, it might take hours.

The comments were still staring at her from the computer screen.

Surely, she could do this. She had already gathered Susannah’s things in a little box, so it would be easy to take with her.

Maybe, just maybe, it could be okay. Maybe Susannah was right.

Maybe just saying goodbye could finally sate that aching loneliness, that feeling of not being quite whole, not being quite enough, that had been haunting her ever since she gave Susannah the ring back.

Linn stood up from the chair. The doorbell rang again, a short, sharp, insistent sound that made her head hurt. She walked out of the office, into the living room, up to the front door.

It was like she could feel Susannah, on the other side of the thick wooden door. The heat of her. Her scent still seemed to invade every corner of the apartment; Linn didn’t know if it was really there, or if she was imagining it. Olfactory haunting.

“Baby?”

She could hear Susannah pleading.

Last time she had come, she had been banging on the door. Screaming. Angry.

She didn’t sound angry now.

“Please, baby, open the door.”

She sounded like herself again; like the woman Linn had fallen in love with. The woman she had seen less and less of, as time had gone on.

“I just want to talk. I’ll leave if you ask me to leave. I just want to see you, one last time.”

Linn’s eyes were stinging.

She had always been able to rely on her brain. When she had fallen short in other areas, her intelligence had been enough to get her through.

A smart girl. That’s how people thought of her. Never quite funny enough, never quite charming enough, but sharp.