“That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed.
“I just feel like I need to explore.”
There was something vague about the word that made me uncomfortable.
“Explore what?”
“Myself.”
“That is still vague.”
“Alex.”
“I’m asking.”
“I don’t know yet. That’s the point.”
Then she reached over as though she were comforting me.
“But I don’t want to lose you.”
I looked at her hand on my arm.
That sentence bothered me more than almost anything else she had said.
“You’re breaking up with me.”
“I don’t want to think of it like that.”
“How should I think of it?”
“As changing what we are.”
I almost laughed.
“That is a breakup.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds awful.”
“It sounds accurate.”
Tara withdrew her hand.
“I knew you’d make this harder.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re being clinical.”
“I’m trying to understand what you’re telling me.”
She stood.
That was when I saw the bag more clearly.
Packed.
Toothbrush sticking out of the side pocket.
Sweatshirt rolled on top.
“You already packed.”
Tara looked guilty.
“Marissa’s picking me up.”
“When?”
“About an hour.”
I checked the clock.
“So you planned all of this.”
“I knew you’d be upset.”
“Apparently you knew more about tonight than I did.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel guilty.”
I stared at her.
“You are breaking up with me and already arranged somewhere to stay before telling me. I’m allowed to notice that.”
She crossed her arms.
“I thought having space would be healthier.”
“Fine.”
“We can figure out the apartment gradually.”
“The apartment.”
“Yes.”
“There’s no rush.”
She gave me a hopeful smile.
“We’re adults. We’re friends. We can make this work.”
That was the moment something inside me became unexpectedly clear.
She wanted friendship.
Fine.
I knew how to be a friend.
I had many.
I cared about them.
Helped them when reasonable.
Celebrated their successes.
Listened when they needed someone.
But my friends did not sleep in my bed.
They did not have keys to my apartment.
I did not pay their phone bills.
I did not organize my weekends around them.
They did not expect daily good-morning texts.
They did not ask permission before I dated someone.
And I certainly did not remain romantically available while they “found themselves.”
So I nodded.
“Okay.”
Tara blinked.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m hurt.”
Her face softened.
“I know.”
“But if you think we’re better as friends, then we’ll be friends.”
Tara smiled.
Actual relief.
“Oh, thank God.”
She moved forward and hugged me.