Chapter 16
I expected to feel lonely.
Instead, I felt relieved.
No phone turning face down.
No wondering whether late meant work.
No studying the expression of someone who had already left emotionally.
Peace is quiet.
At first, quiet can sound like emptiness.
Then you learn the difference.
Jason dated no one seriously for almost two years.
I knew because Emma occasionally mentioned it.
He rented an apartment near Hyde Park.
Went to therapy.
Changed jobs.
Started running.
The irony of the gym made me smile.
Kayla moved to Jacksonville.
Daniel retained primary custody of Noah, though Kayla remained involved.
Andrea sent me a Christmas message once.
THANK YOU FOR NOT DRAGGING NOAH INTO IT.
I answered:
HE WAS NEVER RESPONSIBLE.
That was our only conversation after everything ended.
Three years passed.
Emma graduated from Florida State.
Jason and I sat six seats apart.
We were polite.
When Emma walked across the stage, we both stood.
For one second, our eyes met.
We smiled.
Parents.
Nothing else.
That felt healthy.
After graduation, we took photographs.
One with me.
One with Jason.
Then Emma said, “I want one with both of you.”
Jason looked uncertain.
I stood beside him.
His hand almost went automatically toward my waist.
He stopped himself.
I noticed.
So did he.
We both smiled awkwardly.
Emma laughed.
“You two look like coworkers.”
That made all three of us laugh.
The photograph is still on my bookshelf.
Not because I miss the marriage.
Because we survived becoming something else.
Five years after the divorce, Jason called me on a Sunday afternoon.
We rarely spoke directly by then.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
He sounded nervous.
“I’m getting married.”
I sat down.
That reaction surprised me.
Not heartbreak.
Not jealousy.
Just the strange sensation of hearing someone announce a sequel to a book you once lived inside.
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Rebecca.”
“Do I know her?”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Almost two years.”
I smiled slightly.
“You learned patience.”
He laughed.
“I learned several things.”
There was a pause.
“I wanted you to hear it from me before Emma told you.”
“That was thoughtful.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
He hesitated.
“Are you okay?”
I looked around my townhouse.
Sunday light.
Coffee mug.
A novel open on the couch.
My life.
“Yes.”
And I was.
“Congratulations, Jason.”
“Thank you.”
Before hanging up, he said, “Michelle?”
“Yes?”
“I never thanked you.”
“For what?”