I hate myself for the fact that it’s all already starting to fade away like some vivid dream I swore I’d never forget. The same thing that happened when Aimee died. She already felt like a memory, even a few days later. My mind adapting too fast to the new reality. How quickly the past tense needs to be employed.

I sit out there until the ice cream is completely gone and the wind turns too chilly. Then I go inside and find Grayson, now watching Vertigo.

“Hey, Grayson?”

“Yeah, babe.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.

“I think we should break up.”

His face falls and he turns to me, sitting up. “No, really? Why?”

I shake my head. “It’s not right. This isn’t real.”

He lets his gaze fall to the floor and then shakes his head. “Man. That’s a bummer.”

“I think you’re in love with Elsa. You should ask her out.”

“Oh, come on, is this about that again? I’ve told you—”

“No, no. I’m not accusing you. I believe you. I believe you didn’t cheat on me. But I think you love her.”

He furrows his brow. “What happened, Lana?”

“My name is actually Meg. I know you know that, but … yeah, that’s my name.”

“I know, I—you introduced yourself as Lana, you introduce yourself as Lana to everyone. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It was. It was. But. I’m Meg.” I lift my arms, then let them fall against my lean thighs.

He nods and then stands, crumbs falling off of him. “Nice to meet you, Meg.”

He cocks a little smile, and it melts me a little. He’s sweet. If dumb. Gorgeous, if completely unattractive to me.

“Yeah. Look, I’m not mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re actually really great. Especially for an actor,” I say, giving him the hint of a smile back. “But we were set up to be together, and we were lucky we actually liked each other. It worked for a while.”

“I understand. I’m really disappointed about this, but … I mean, I can’t change your mind?”

“I know what real love feels like, and this isn’t it. We both deserve to find it.”

He looks really serious for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay. Well.” We both seem to think I’m going to say more, but then I don’t, only, “Well, I’ll see you.”

And then I go upstairs, find one of my overnight duffels, and pack it with the things I like, grabbing the boxes that hide my personal things. I fill a backpack with some clothes.

I throw on my sweatpants and a sports bra, tie a sweatshirt around my waist, and then go through the bedroom closet, looking for my tatty old Hopper print. I find it rolled up with the hair tie.