I stood with the door open behind me, staring down at his vacated parking space for ten minutes before noticing how cold it was. I went back inside, sliding the balcony door closed and locking it behind me, a habit Dylan had always mocked since no one could get up there from the parking lot anyway.

I walked to the bedroom and changed out of my khakis and blouse, dropping them onto the floor, and pulled on my pajamas. My stomach was grumbling even more loudly, but I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t really want to do anything. Even so, I walked back to the living room, locked the front door and turned off the lights, then picked up one of the library books from the entry table and walked back to the bedroom. I lay down in bed, pulled the comforter up to my chin, and opened the book, but after staring at the page and not comprehending a single word, I dropped it to the floor. Out of habit I set the alarm and turned out the light, and only then, enveloped in darkness, with the scent of Dylan’s cologne emanating from his side of the bed, did I cry. My shoulders shook, and my throat constricted and ached; I felt like I was choking. He had left his pillow, because it was mine, really, and not his, and I curled myself around it, squeezing the life out of it, demanding that it tell me why he left. I realized then how much I’d grown to love him.

“What a jerk!” I exclaim with more force than necessary. Her experience echoes one of my own just a little too close for comfort. “Did you ever hear from him again?”

Grace laughs and shakes her head. “No, and good riddance, frankly. But it was just what I needed, and God knew that even though I didn’t. If he hadn’t left I never would have moved, and coming to California was one of the best things I ever did. It never would have happened if Dylan had stuck around.”

I try to contain my sarcasm, but some leaks out despite my efforts. “What—God made your boyfriend wig out and get abusive?’

She shrugs. “I can’t speak for what God will and won’t claim responsibility for. But I know that He had a plan for me, and it required me to be here. Maybe something else would have brought me out, but how can we know what might have been?”

I cringe inside. There it is, that religious chalk-it-up-to-Providence crap I’d hoped so much not to encounter. So far she sounds more levelheaded than most religious people I’ve talked to, but that probably just means she’s good at playing this game. I try not to let this count against her and ask her to continue.