My mother gave me an old photo from my seventh birthday when I left her place. This was before we had started staying at Father Jamison's house. The photo had me behind the homemade cake Mom baked, the candles freshly blown out. All of us were in the photo because my grandmother had taken it. Mom was smiling down at me. Dad, who I remembered being sober that day, was mid clap, smiling as well. Claude was holding Clovis on his back. Axelle was sitting next to me, posing for the camera with her hand up and pursing her lips. Delphine was sitting next to me, so young, smiling up at me. Then there I was - a big smile on my face. It was a photo full of so much joy and love. It may have been one of the last times I was genuinely happy, at least until recently.
I was happy. My inner child was happy. I loved my family. I wanted to be around them more. Their presence didn't depress me anymore. I wanted to love and be loved. I was in love with Emerson and I wanted to tell him, but I was scared. When he looked at me, I did feel loved. I was getting much better at silencing the hurtful voices in my head. I was not perfect. There was still a lot to work on. I still got irritated quickly and sometimes wanted to shut down, but I was still doing my best.
I arrived back to the office Monday morning. Everyone except for Emerson returned to the office. He was going to take the week off to spend time with his family. I was glad to be back in the office. I liked the routine of going to work, even though I missed Em. I sat at my desk and logged onto my computer, which had to restart because it had been so long.
Michael walked in. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," I replied. "What's up?"
He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "So, how long have you and Emerson been screwing?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" I asked. I stood up to go make some espresso.
"Well I just so happened to stop by the office when you two were fucking on the couch. You slept with each the entire time we were traveling didn't you?" he asked.
"What does it matter to you?" I turned to him. This is where I needed to work on getting irritated so quickly. I guess Michael was good practice, but I was not doing a good job.
"For a few reasons," he said. "For one thing, you cannot hurt Emerson."
"What makes you think I'm going to hurt him?" I snapped back. "This is none of your business either way."
"I don't think you are going to intentionally hurt him, but I know you well enough to know that you might get scared and push him away, which you cannot do. It will break his heart. This probably means something to him, you know?"
"It doesn't mean anything!" This was a lie, but it was almost a habit to get defensive against anything Michael said. "We were just having sex. We agreed that that was the last time and then things were going back to normal. It was just sex. We said that in the beginning." The last part was true at least.
"You are such a pig," he said, rolling his eyes.
"This isn't any of your business," I said again. "I never want you to bring this up again. It's a thing of the past and it doesn't concern you at all. We were going to act like it never happened so you need to as well."
He shrugged. "Fine. If it doesn't mean anything, then it doesn't mean anything."
"Good. Now why don't you get back to work?"
Michael looked at me, disappointed, and left the room.
I grabbed my espresso and blew on it. Why did I just say all that to him? Michael was annoying, but there was a reason he was also one of my best friends. He was annoying because he cared. He was terrible at showing it, but I knew him well enough to know he wanted me to be happy. Maybe he wanted to confirm that what Em and I had was real.
I stormed out of my office and went into his, where Emilio was sitting with him. "So what if it does mean something?" I asked, still sounding angry even though I didn't mean to. "What if I want it to mean something?"
"I mean, does it mean something to you?" he asked.
I paused, debating. "Yes," I said. "It does. It did. I..."
"What is it?" Emilio asked.
"I guess..." Why was this so hard to say? Why was it hard being vulnerable in front of my best friends? "I guess I am in love and want to be happy and continuously in love and-and just...be with Em...for the rest of my life."
Michael clapped his hands giddily. "Oh my god, finally," he said. "I knew you were smitten from so long ago. That boy had you wrapped around his finger from day one, I swear."
"Well, I don't know about that," I said.
"Oh whatever, look at how you changed because of him? I mean you literally cooked for him. That's when I really thought you were in love with him, way back when he was living with you. And I know you missed him when he moved out."
"Michael, chill," Emilio said, laughing. "You aren't going to win a prize for reading the obvious."
"It wasn't obvious, was it?" I asked.
"I totally knew you were in love with him," Michael said, hopping up and putting his hands on Emilio's shoulders.
"I was talking about Em," Emilio said. "I could tell he was crazy about you for a long time, too."
"I'm not sure about that..." I mumbled.
"Quit being dramatic. Of course he is in love with you. You have to tell him," Michael said. "Rehearse what you are going to say."
Emilio put his hand on Michael's hand. "Babe, chill," he said.
"What? We can workshop it. It can be poetic or funny or maybe passionately."
"I'm not sure," I said. "I mean...what if he doesn't share the same feelings?"
"Oh my god, did you not just hear us? Of course he does!" Michael yelled.
Emilio gave up on trying to get him to chill out. The two of us sat in Michael's office while he paced around the room, planning my confession, planning when Em would move in, how I would tell my parents, how he would tell his, how to make it so he can still work for me, if he wanted, how we would "soft-launch" our relationship. He was planning it all out, a nice little story in his head. It was nice to listen to, actually, but I could barely think about what I was going to say to Em. I would forget everything anyway.
The next two days were almost agonizing. All I could think about was Em, who wasn't even going to come back until Monday. I ran every possible scenario in my head, over and over again, picturing the worst, picturing the best. I had to tell him how I felt, even if he did not feel the same. I don't think I could live without telling him.
Luckily, to my surprise, Em decided to come back Thursday.
"What are you doing back early?" I asked. I had just finished morning yoga and found him at his desk.
"A week was a little too long," he said. "I just wanted to get back to work."
"Good. I'm glad you're back, but always take all the time you need," I said.
"Thank you." Was he tired?
I sat on the edge of his desk, like I always did. He was rearranging his desk drawer, looking down. So I reached my hand down and gently touched his chin, lifting his head. I wanted to kiss him. I had to tell him, but I couldn't resist his lips. I leaned down to kiss him, but he pulled away.
"Lafayette," he said, looking away. "I...I think we should stop with the kissing and the sex." He glanced at me and then back away. "We said we were going to work on ourselves, that we weren't dating anyone because we had to improve, so it was only physical. Well, I feel like I am ready to start dating people and settle down, so I think we should stop."
I nodded. "Okay," I said.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"No, don't be," I said, standing and turning away. "I understand. You-you are right. We said it was just a-a release until we felt ready to find the right person."
So this is what a heartbreak felt like.
"Right..." he said.
I looked back to him, our eyes landing on each other. Why did he look sad? Could he tell I was heartbroken? "Well, I have to get to a meeting. Go ahead and get settled in." I walked into my office and into my flat, locking the door.
I collapsed on the bed.
How could this happen? I thought he shared the same feelings. Emilio and Michael started to convince me he did. The way he held me, kissed me, looked into my eyes. I thought it was love, but I guess I was wrong. I was so ready. I was ready to open myself up completely to him, to love him and let him love me. I was so in love I could've married him tomorrow. Was I really that blind?
This feeling was not my clinical depression. It was pure sadness. I genuinely started to feel sick. My head ached and my stomach was twisting. I escaped to the townhouse without anyone seeing me. I just couldn't be at work. I never took a day off. I never called in sick. But I couldn't do it. What was I supposed to do now? How does someone get over the person they love? I just couldn't do it. All I could do was sleep and hope this was nothing more than a terrible nightmare.