The more I think about it, the more I realize that day in Carmel ruined me because it offered me a glimpse into something I’ve always wanted. Those intense feelings, the butterflies, the nervousness, the smiles, the incredible conversations, the excitement, the possibilities, and that unique sensation that you’re lighter than the air and happier than you’ve ever been. Those are the exact things I gave my characters… story after story. And I had them. For one day.

Only after Carmel did I realize just how much I wanted all those things. I still want them. I still think about him. Wonder. Try to imagine his face, his voice. I try to come up with excuses for why he didn’t come. Why he never contacted me although he had my phone number. I had an excuse. I don’t have his phone number; I don’t even know what his real name is. What would I do? Return to California and talk to all the Lift drivers in the Bay Area?

Besides, he stood me up. That thought still hurts so badly. I wished so many times he would just text me and tell me why. Or tell me it meant nothing. Or that he lied about being single and he’s married. Or that he came, saw me, and decided I wasn’t what he was looking for. Something. Anything. So I can move on.

I was there. He wasn’t. And despite all this time that has passed, I still can’t wrap my head around it. I know what I felt and I thought he felt the same way. How could I have been so wrong? I just want answers. I want to look into his eyes, listen to what he has to say, no matter how painful or difficult, then turn around and leave, knowing I did everything I could.

That’s all I want. A chance for closure. But that moment will probably never come.

Fifteen

June 2

I look at the calendar on the wall and flip the page for May. I can’t believe it’s already June and I didn’t even realize it. My birthday is less than three weeks away, and I can’t help but let out a loud sigh. I wish I was a different person. I wish I was the person I briefly became on my birthday, a year ago. That brave, reckless, adventurous, not-afraid-to-be-alone, flirty, fun person.

David walks into the kitchen and I start doing the dishes to avoid a conversation.

“Can you stop that for a minute?” he asks, his tone different than usual.

I turn and the look in his eyes matches his tone.

“Yes?” I say and wipe my hands.

He wants to break up. I knew this day would come, but it’s still not easy.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now—” He stops. “Us. What we’re doing.”

Here it comes.

“I think we should get married,” he says after a moment.

I stare. “Married?”

“We’ve been together for five years, and I want kids while I’m still young. My career is going great; we can sell this place and buy a house in the suburbs.”