It rained on the day of graduation, but
I let my hair down and wore a strapless dress anyway. I don’t know why I was
shaking in the moments before my name was called to walk across the stage –
this is, after all, the moment I’ve been waiting for. My diploma is my ticket
to freedom.
Limited finances notwithstanding, my opportunities are endless now. The
thought of going anywhere, pursuing anything, without being tied down by
another person is liberating and frightening all at the same time. It’s sad to
admit, but if he were still in the picture, I might have agreed to stay in this
dead-end town for as long as Jared would be in it. But that’s not an option
anymore.
When I think of the opportunities that await, my longing for a
relationship almost pales in comparison. Almost. Do I need to belong in
anyone’s arms to be somebody important?
Believing this is one thing. Living
it is quite another.
On her last day before heading off to India, Tess helps me pack up my
little box of a dormitory and prepare to move in the spare bedroom left by her
previous roommate. I feel bad that we’ve barely talked about her excitement for
this upcoming trip; she seems to be more concerned about how I’ll handle the
next few months without my best friend, still knee-deep in the muck of
post-relationship insecurity.
“You’re still hurting, aren’t you?” she asks carefully.
I don’t cringe, even though it still feels raw to talk about it. For the
first time in weeks, my expression is completely blank, even if my words are
not: “It kills me every day,” I tell her.
“You’ve taken your grief out on your hair, I see.”
I touch a piece of newly dyed reddish-black hair: quite a contrast from
my natural dishwater blonde. “Yeah, well, I decided to start over, and be as
unrecognizable as possible.” Tess looks somewhat shocked, so I hastily add,
“Unrecognizable from the codependent woman I was with Jared, I mean.”
“I’m worried about you,” Tess says plainly. “Are you sure…are you sure
you’ll be okay?”
“Tess.” Setting down the pants I was folding, I walk across the room to
where she’s sitting on my bed, and hug her tightly. “You’re going to go to
India and not worry about me. Promise.”
She looks unconvinced. “I just need some distraction,” I continue.
“Working full-time at the bookstore and getting to know my co-workers will do
just that. And when I’m not working, I’ll be filling out other job
applications, maybe to teach writing courses somewhere.”
Tess’ face softens. “Well that’s good, but you can’t just heal from
something like this overnight –”
Sigh. “I know that, Tess.”
“All right then.” We resume folding clothes, and I bite my tongue to
keep from saying what I’m really thinking: You
don’t think I’m stable enough to handle being alone.
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