I felt almost catfished. It was ridiculous, but I did. Like she hadn’t been fully honest about who she was. But in truth, she had been honest. It was just that my imagination had failed me.
You fill in blanks. You take the information given to you and you make assumptions that complete the picture in your mind. I realized now that all my pictures had been drastically wrong. She was a hundred times higher up than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine. I couldn’t even grasp this kind of wealth.
When I’d seen her at the hospital earlier, even that had been a small reality check. I knew she was a doctor. I’d seen her treat patients. But it was different seeing her actually there, wearing scrubs and standing in an ER, a doctor’s name tag hanging off her pocket. I wasn’t fully prepared for that, even with all the lead-up to it, and I definitely wasn’t prepared for this.
I got now why she didn’t know how to clean or cook—I really got it. Because someone who could live like this had people running their lives for them. People like me.
Now I understood even more what I must have looked like to her friends and family, why they reacted the way they did. Especially now that I’d seen her ex. I was everything opposite of that guy. How did someone like me fit? I was uncomfortable even being in this house. I couldn’t imagine being with her here, cooking in that kitchen, even sitting in the living room. I felt the way the truck looked parked in the driveway. Out of place and like I didn’t belong.
She took me up a grand, twisting staircase that made the one at home look small in comparison. Three more guest rooms, more bathrooms, and finally a room with a dead bolt on the door. She unlocked it and stood back while I went inside.
It was the master bedroom.
I looked around, not saying a word. It was bright and warm, like it wasn’t a part of the rest of the house. A king-size bed sat in the middle of it. There were plush chairs and a rose-colored bedspread. A framed photograph of a girl in a field of poppies. There was a small fridge pushed against the wall with a microwave on top and a Keurig. It was the only room that felt like the woman she was in Wakan.
It was the only place where I finally saw us.
She had knickknacks on her nightstand. Small treasures. Little things I’d made her, a raccoon I’d carved from wood, just something funny I’d whittled out in an hour. There was a jar of the strawberry jam we’d made a few weeks ago, one of my hoodies tossed over a chair.
The heart-shaped rock.
Souvenirs.
This was why she wanted me to see her house. It was worth a million words of explanation.
For the first time she came full circle for me. I finally saw all of her. She came together like a puzzle that had been missing pieces. It was like she was two different people.
And then I realized she was.
Who she was with me was who she was on vacation. Who she was in Wakan wasn’t real life.
This was her real life.
And I knew before she even said anything that she wasn’t going to ask me to be a part of it.
She sniffed, and she looked like she might start crying again. “My dad wants me to get back with Neil,” she said. “He loves him and won’t accept our breakup. Neil’s forcing me to live with him because he wants the house in the separation—and he wants me back,” she added. “I can’t leave my job to be with you because if I do I’ll break a hundred-and-twenty-five-year family legacy. And if you come here to be with me, you’ll lose your house and my parents won’t ever speak to me again.”
She pressed her lips together like she was trying not to sob. “So that’s where we are. I’m sorry, Daniel…”
I felt my throat get tight, and I forced myself to say the words I already knew the answer to. “Are you breaking up with me?” I asked, my voice thick.
She looked anguished. “We knew it wasn’t going to last. We got more time than I thought we would, and I’m so grateful for it.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
I felt like my heart was being crushed in my chest. And I didn’t even have anything to say because this wasn’t on me. I’d leave my life to be here if she wanted that. I’d learn to get used to all…this. I’d deal with it, because if the alternative was being without her, I could never choose it. But this wasn’t my choice. It wasn’t up to me to decide for her to be disowned or whatever the hell her parents would do.
And what a fucked-up thing to even put on someone. What kind of people were these?
But then I already knew.
For the first time I truly saw what she was trying to make me understand every time she told me this wouldn’t work out.