I miss them. I ache for them, and I’m mad at Kai for breaking me this way, for making me feel when I spent so much of my life unattached and untethered.
I hate that I love him so much.
So what’s the harm in one little text? One tiny text to remind him that I’m thinking of him.
I find my messages to do just that, but the time at the top of my phone blinds me with the realization that it’s almost three in the morning. It reminds me that Kai asked me not to give him any hope.
It reminds me that summer is over.
Regardless of the late hour, a text comes through from Chef Maven.
Maven: Sorry we haven’t crossed paths much this week! Meet me at the restaurant tomorrow morning for coffee and we can sit down and go over your ideas for the menu?
So much for that morning off I was hoping for. But it’s probably for the best that I don’t give myself time to think because thinking only leads to missing them.
Me: Sounds great. I’ll see you then.
Finally making my way into my other messages, I find texts from Kennedy, Isaiah, Indy, and my dad.
Nothing from Kai. His way to move on quicker, I guess.
I could be sick just thinking about it. Them with another woman in their lives, someone else loving Kai and Max the way I do. That’s what I should want for them, right? To have everything I can’t give them. Everything they deserve.
Then why am I laying here crying in bed at the thought?
This is his fault too. I never used to cry. I never used to feel. Now it’s like a dam has been broken and it’s a non-stop flood pouring from my eyes when I’m not at work. I never needed anyone before them and now I’m laying here, a desperate, sobbing mess in the middle of the night in the Hollywood Hills because there’s a baseball player in Chicago and his son who I miss. Who I love.
Who I can’t have because nothing about our lives aligns.
Blinking through the blurry tears, I find my dad’s text.
Dad: I’m sure you saw the game recap. Give me a call sometime so we can talk. I miss you, Millie.
I don’t hesitate, calling him, needing to hear his voice, needing someone to tell me I made the right decision by going back to work because right now it feels all wrong. I know he of all people will find what I’m doing impressive. He’ll find it worthwhile.
The phone rings until the call goes straight to voicemail because, of course it does. It’s the middle of the night.
“Hi, Dad,” I say into the receiver, clearing my throat in hopes he can’t tell I’m crying. “Just calling to say hi and that I miss you. I really miss you. But things are going great here.” God, is my tone too telling that I’m full of shit? “I have my interview with Food & Wine tomorrow afternoon, so . . . that’s exciting. Sorry about your game.”
I try so hard not to ask, but I can’t help myself. “Is Kai okay? I hope he is.” I exhale a sad laugh. “But I also hope he’s missing the shit out of me because I’m missing him. And you. I miss you a lot, Dad. I wish you were here because I miss seeing your face. I got used to it this summer, I guess. I used to be so much better at this whole traveling year-round thing.” And I’m rambling. “Anyway, call me when you can, and I’ll be sure to answer. I love you. So much. Talk soon.”
Loneliness sinks in again as I hang up and lay in my quiet van where only the sound of my sobs can be heard.
I hate it here, but this quiet moment is the only place where I can be honest about that.
I find my texts again, hoping something from one of my friends will make my self-pity shut up for a second.
Kennedy: Checking in on you. How’s the restaurant? Isaiah won’t stop texting me about whether he should change his walk-out song and then proceeds to ask me what my favorite song is, you know, in case he wants to use it. And I miss you!
Finally, a genuine laugh escapes me.
Isaiah: Here with your daily dose of Max. He learned how to say “duck” yesterday but definitely pronounces his “Ds” as “Fs” so that was a fun treat to hear. I took a video for you. You’re missed, Hot Nanny.
He accompanies that with a video of Max sitting on his lap in the center of the Warriors’ clubhouse.
“Maxie, what is that?” Isaiah asks, pointing to the book they’re reading, which seems to be about a giant Mallard duck.
“A big fuck!” Max proclaims, so proud of himself.
The clubhouse erupts in laughter around him, and Max just sits there, clapping for himself, and the rest of the team joins in to cheer too.
Quickly, the camera pans to Kai, who is sitting in his locker stall shaking his head, a tiny smile fighting to break through before the video abruptly ends.