Ezra came out of the bathroom with his face washed, drops of water still sparkling on his hairline. “I think I need a night to myself,” he said. “I’ll just go home.”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked. Had she gone too far? Shared too much? Was his love for her completely conditional?

“Just what I said it means. I need some time alone. I just . . . I need to process what happened tonight. It’s been a really long day. On top of a really long week. I just . . . need space.”

Emily looked at Ezra. He seemed so beaten down. So tired. She’d seen him like this before, when he’d gotten into an argument with his father, when funding he applied for didn’t come through, when he made a choice for a patient that didn’t work out the way he’d thought it would. She’d learned to let him be. But it had never been about her before. They’d never gotten into an argument that made him look like this in all the time they’d been together. And while she’d been fine giving him space to process when the problem wasn’t about her, it didn’t feel fine now. She’d just told him how alone she’d felt, how lonely. “You can’t keep running away,” she said. “When things get hard, you can’t just leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” Ezra said. “I’m just . . . breathing. I can’t breathe with you here. I can’t think.”

Emily took a few deep breaths of her own, slowing her heart rate. No matter how disappointed she was in him, she knew he needed to come to conclusions himself. To figure himself out. And she needed to let him. “Then you stay,” she said, standing and picking up her duffel bag. “I’ll go home.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” she told him, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Should I expect you home in the morning?”

“I think I should probably still grab breakfast with my parents,” Ezra said. “I’ll go straight to work after that.”

“Okay,” Emily said again, realizing she had just been disinvited to breakfast. She walked to the door. “I’ll see you after work, then.”

“I’ll call,” he said, as he walked with her.

After she left, she heard him slide the dead bolt.

And she turned and went home by herself.

xx

Your dad started touring with a band that summer. Not ours but a new one he joined. I heard they were playing all over the country, but I never saw them.

He invited me to one of the shows. Sent me passes to go backstage. But I couldn’t. I didn’t. I was too depressed. Spinning too quickly into a whirlwind of regret and despair that I couldn’t pull myself out of.

I haven’t seen him since he graduated.