I didn’t sleep all night after I got back to Alex’s from my visit with Margot. Didn’t even try, just sat in the one chair in her place and watched the sky transform from dark to dawn. I contemplated canceling on Matt. Almost did many times before it was seven in the morning and, by then, far too late.
Things had been so clear before Daniel’s message—or rather, before Margot lured me to her place under the guise of an invitation from Daniel. What might have happened if I’d ignored it? Texted back a curt and definitive I can’t. Please don’t ask me again. If I had done that, I’d be filled with excitement this morning versus exhaustion and dread, but I also would never have learned the truth. And it was significant, as hard as it had been to hear, that I had been the one to end my engagement. I had been the one to hurt Daniel when I changed our course, not the other way around.
By 7:15 a.m. I was sitting on the curb outside the capybara pen in the High Park Zoo, a take-out tray with two coffees (black for Matt, sugar and cream for me) and two egg and bacon sandwiches greasing up the paper bag beside me. The sun was finally out, and the park was quiet except for the odd early-morning jogger. I anxiously tapped my feet, my arms wrapped around my knees as I waited. It wasn’t warm this early in the morning quite yet, and so I blew into my bare hands to counteract their chilliness. I saw Matt then, riding his bike through the zoo’s path and heading toward me. I jumped to my feet, nearly upsetting the tray of coffees balanced on the curb’s edge, and waved, shouting his name, though it was unnecessary to do so—Matt and I were the only ones here.
He got off his bike a few feet from me, the grin on his face tightening the knots in my stomach. “Hey, Luce,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.” Unclipping his helmet, he hung it on the handlebar of his bike, which he leaned against a nearby bench.
“Here. Breakfast,” I said, smiling as I handed him the coffee and one of the wrapped sandwiches. “Bacon and egg from the Grenadier. I’m having the same.”
He looked surprised. “You’re eating an egg?”
“Oh, right. I didn’t tell you. Turns out I don’t remember the whole food-poisoning thing.” I shrugged. “So I like eggs. Again.”
“No kidding,” he murmured, opening the sandwich and taking a bite. “Thanks. This is exactly what I needed.” But as he said it he gave me a look that told me he wasn’t talking about breakfast.
“I’m glad,” I said.
Matt set his coffee down so he could take off his messenger bag. “Listen, I’m not sure exactly why we’re here at the capybaras at seven in the morning, and I have no idea if I’m going to leave here glad I came or wishing I hadn’t.” He bent down to balance his partially eaten sandwich on the lid of his coffee cup, then stood again. “But can I say something first?”
I nodded, wrapped my arms around my body and did a few little jumps to warm up.
“Cold?” he asked.
“A bit,” I replied, and then there was a moment of silence as he watched me and I watched him, the couple of feet between us like a giant chasm. But then I felt it—the distinct magnetic pull between us, as strong as the one that had repelled me from Daniel’s lips under the Maddy’s awning. I took a step toward him, said, “What did you want to say?”
“Okay, first? I love you.” He closed the gap between us, held my chilled hands. I wasn’t prepared for him to open with this, for how intensely his words would pierce me, and my knees started to shake. “It’s both that simple and that complicated. Nothing has changed for me, but I know everything is different for you.
“But while you don’t remember us, we do have history, Lucy. I know things about you no one else does. Like how you cry every single time an animal rescue meme hits your Facebook stream. Or that you wear your underwear inside out on days when you need a bit of good luck, because once you did it by accident and something great happened and so you decided it had to be the underwear thing.”
I smiled, pulled one hand out from his to wipe my tears. Oh, I don’t deserve you, Matt.
“I know when you’re sick you like to be left alone. ‘Throw a Gatorade in here, some ibuprofen, and then go—I’m disgusting and you don’t need to see disgusting,’ you said the last time you had a stomach bug. I remember you take your coffee with cream and sugar, that you prefer red over white wine, that you hate hockey but watch the games with me because you know how much I love it, that you have a surprisingly large collection of scarves for someone who doesn’t like wearing them because they make you claustrophobic. You love your work but sometimes wish you’d gone the creative route with your writing instead.”
The tears were hot against my cheeks and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. How could I possibly tell him what I needed to after this?
“I remember all these things, Luce, even if you don’t. So maybe right now we only have my memories to count on, but that’s okay.” He clutched my fingers tightly and pulled me closer, only inches apart now. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, but it didn’t lose any of its intensity. “I don’t care if you remember being married to Daniel. I honestly don’t care... I love you. And I believe you love me, too.” He laid one palm flat against my chest and pressed gently. “I know I’m still in here, Lucy. I know it.”
I wondered if he could feel how quickly my heart was beating. I took a deep breath. “I quit my job.”
He gave me a confused look, pulled back a little and shook his head. “What? When?”
“Yesterday. And I cheated on Daniel.”
Now a full step back. His hand dropped from my chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Matt, that Lucy you remember? The one who cried at dog rescue memes and wore her underwear inside out and hated eggs and said yes when you asked her to marry you?” I shook my head, pulled in a ragged breath. “You don’t know her the way you think you do. She cheated on her fiancé, apparently with some random guy. She is not the person you think she is.”
Matt’s jaw clenched and he took a deep breath through his nose. I wasn’t sure if he was going to cry, or yell at me. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you are kind and decent and the best boyfriend, and you deserve more than this shit show, Matt. You deserve better than me—both past and present.”
His mouth dropped open. “You brought me here to break up with me?” His face reddened and he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What the hell, Lucy? Why did you even bother?”
I stepped right up to him and brought his hands to my chest again, held them tightly in my own. “No, when I sent that message, my plan was to propose we start over. Like, at the beginning. And not re-creating our first dates but to make new memories together. To see what might happen if we did.”
“Okay, yes! Let’s do that. That’s what I want, too.”
I shook my head. “But then I found out about what I’d done to Daniel, and I knew—” My breath caught and, oh, the way he looked at me. So full of hurt and anger I wanted to take it all back, to erase everything I said that made him look at me this way. “I knew it wasn’t fair to you. I have no idea if I’m ever going to remember us the way you do, and even if I do, I won’t be the same person I was before. The person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.
“I know you miss her,” I whispered. He wouldn’t look at me now. “I miss her, too, Matt. I wish she would come back. But there’s a good chance she’s gone for good. And you deserve better.”
“You keep saying that, but what if that’s not what I want?” Matt said, his voice gruff. “Why do you get to choose what I deserve, or don’t?” He looked depressed, and lost, having been forced into a holding pattern all this time. Matt hadn’t yet mourned the loss of our relationship, and even if we had found our way back somehow, it would never be the same as it had been.
“There’s nothing connecting us except for our past, Matt. And no matter how much I wish it weren’t true, only one of us remembers that.” I pressed his knuckles to my lips and held them there for a long moment, then let go, already walking backward, away from him.
“I’m sorry. For everything. Please don’t hate me,” I said, then turned my back to him and broke into a run.