It seemed like he wanted me to go out and be free and live the life he thought I needed between a breakup and new relationship.
I wanted to respect his decision. He may even have a bit of a point because now I had moved into my own place instead of directly into his. But I knew peace and quiet was what I needed in life, not new friends, and not new men to date. Not parties, or travel, or adventure.
I didn't want any of that. I liked my life. My job was comfortable, my friends were good people that I genuinely liked to spend time with. I had hobbies, like jogging and going to the gym, or the movies. The only thing missing was Ryan.
And I couldn't see him. Not yet. There was no way I could stand next to him and talk to him and act like everything was how it used to be. There was no way I could stop myself from reaching out and touching him.
I had accepted the fact that first I would need to let a certain amount of time pass, before showing up at his door and begging for him to take me back. The only problem was that I was pretty sure if he asked what I had been doing out in the world to discover myself, he wouldn't be happy to hear that I spent all my free time laying on my new couch wallowing in self-pity.
Did I have to go backpacking across Europe or something?What did he need?
Proof, I thought, not for the first time. It hurt a little bit but I knew it was true and I understood where he was coming from. Somehow, I would have to prove to him that I wanted him for good.
My phone vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts.
Grudgingly, I lifting it up surprised to see Melissa's name. The message made me pause even longer.
You free? I want to show you something.
Now?
Yes. Can you come over?
We were on pleasant enough terms, but it still made me squirm with nerves that she wanted to see me. I didn't haveto answer to her anymore. All the documents were signed and submitted, but we had been trying to be amicable the whole way through this ordeal so I got in my car and drove across town to the house I had lived in for the past few years.
It still looked like home. It would probably take some getting used to it not being mine anymore. When I got to the door, I didn't know if I should knock or just walk in.
In the end, I knocked, and waited.
Melissa opened the door a minute later.
She was looking much better. Her foot was in a boot now to stabilize the ankle and she had a crutch under one armpit, but she looked clean and fresh and back to herself otherwise.
“Hi Kamran,” she said.
There was something about the way she said my name, like I could hear all the history in it. I wondered if it was the same for her.
“Hi Lissa.”
She moved out of the way for me to enter and I did, following her down the hall and into the living room.
The house had changed. There was a new rug on the floor. She'd moved things, added other things, like pictures on the walls. Everything felt slightly off. Another sign that it wasn't mine any more, and honestly, seeing that helped me to separate from the place in that moment.
I sat slowly onto the couch, still looking around. And then my eyes settled on our wedding album.
It was sitting closed on the coffee table, our smiling faces on the front, ready to start the rest of our lives together.
Melissa saw me looking at it and carried herself over to me, sitting at my side and leaning her crutch against the arm of the couch.
I tore my gaze from the book to turn and look at her.
“What is it, Lissa?” I asked. “Why did you want me to come here?”
She gave me a small smile that was more sad than happy. They had all been like that since that day.
“I wanted to give you something,” she said and to my shock, she reached out and grabbed the photo album and handed it to me.
I took it automatically, completely flabbergasted.Was this supposed to be some sort of joke? I wondered. But Melissa wasn't a cruel person.
