Tyler blew out a slow, long breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter.
“I know this isn’t right,” I continued. “I know we shouldn’t have done what we did. And maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said last night, either. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying all of this that I’m saying to you now.” I turned a little in my seat then, so I could face him fully, begging him to return my gaze. “But it doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong. This is how I feel.”
Tyler swallowed, his neck straining with the motion.
“I want you, Tyler,” I whispered through the tears building, and at the words, his mouth parted, his chest depressing with the trembling breath. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve tried to forget you, and I know now that there is no amount of time or distance I can put between us that will ever allow me to. I am yours,” I said, and I felt so bold with the truth on my lips that I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his on the steering wheel until he let me pull it free. I held it between mine, his elbow balanced on the center console between us, and he kept his gaze forward while I lowered my lips to his fingers and closed my eyes. “Whether you claim me or not, I am yours.”
A single tear slipped down his cheek when I opened my eyes to look at him again, but he wouldn’t blink to set another free. He just looked straight ahead, his eyes tired, his jaw set.
“I know I am not in the position to ask anything of you, not after I took what I thought was the righteous route and insisted that what we had done was wrong. I pushed you away the morning after you’d pulled me in. I felt it in my heart that Azra was the one for you, that your family loved her, that you loved her, and I couldn’t step in the middle of that.” I paused, heart squeezing with the admission. “But I’m asking you now.”
I reached for his chin, running my fingers over the slight stubble there until he finally turned to face me. His nostrils flared when our eyes locked, two more tears freeing themselves, and his chest heaving at the touch.
“If you feel anything for me, Tyler,” I whispered, searching his eyes. “If you love me, too — don’t let me get on this plane.”
A thick swallow found his throat again, and his eyes washed over me, taking me in, drinking my words. I saw a million things in that gaze of his, felt a thousand lifetimes of us warring with that truth I’d just spilled between us. He and I, we weren’t just here and now. We were the past, the present, the future. We were other worlds and other universes, too.
No matter what we did, it would always come back to this.
Every molecule of my being was tied up in that moment, in the request that hung between us on a delicate wire. I held his hand between mine, watching, waiting, wishing.
His hand squeezed mine, and I inhaled a deep, shaky breath at the contact, leaning into it.
But in the next breath, he released me completely, taking his shaky hands back to the wheel and his gaze back to the windshield.
I didn’t miss the way his throat constricted, the way his nose flared, the way his lips were pressed together so tight that little lines formed around them.
And I didn’t miss that I had made my choice, and this — him turning away from me?
This was him making his.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring at his profile, wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing. Did he hear me? Had he listened to the words I said? How could he not fold into me right now, tell me he loves me, too, swear off everyone and everything for us?
But the moment was very real, and I nodded, understanding even if I hated it.
Without another word, I pulled the handle on my door, kicking it open and snatching my purse off the floor. In the next second I was around the back, releasing the latch of the truck bed and heaving my suitcase and duffle bag out.
Tyler didn’t get out to help me, and I didn’t look at him again.
I knew I never would.
But I’d left everything in that car, exposed every yearning that threaded through my heart, that heart that beat only for him.
So when the plane lifted off the tarmac and carried me west, I didn’t shed another tear.
I smiled for what we had.
And I promised myself to let go of what we never would.
Two Weeks Later
Me: And that’s what I think so many people miss, Tara, is that we spend so much time trying to be what we think everyone else wants us to be, that we stop asking ourselves what we actually want. Who do we want to be? What passions and hobbies do we actually enjoy? What is most important to us in life?
Tara: Exactly. And then we get to this point in our late twenties or so where we look around at the life we’ve built and we almost feel like… a spectator? More than the person living it. We’re like, “Wait… who are these people? Why am I always prioritizing getting blackout drunk at brunch over hiking or something productive?”
*laughter*
Me: So, what suggestions do you give to any of our listeners who are wanting to make that change in their life, who are wanting to wake up, so to speak, and take hold of their life?
Tara: *sighs* Well, I think there are a lot of ways to work toward it, but I’ll suggest where to start. The first step, in my eyes, is to sit down with a magnifying glass and really examine your life. What is your day-to-day routine? What do you do for fun? What do you do for a living, and why, and how does that make you feel? Then, once it’s all written down in front of you, just highlight the things that you love, that make you feel good, and leave anything that makes you feel some type of way un-highlighted.
Me: On my list, 2AM Instagram shopping would be one I’d leave un-highlighted.
*laughter*
Tara: Mine would be feeding into my toxic friendships.
Me: *whistles* That’s a conversation for another podcast.
Tara: Right? But seriously, I think if we all do this, just take a pulse check on our life from time to time, we can really evaluate what matters to us, and start to step away from what doesn’t. Focus on building habits that support who you want to be — not who you used to be, or who you think you are, or who you think others want you to be.
Me: Well, I don’t think we could end on a better note than that. Thank you for joining us on And All That Jazz today, Tara. It’s been a real pleasure.
Tara: The pleasure is all mine.
Me: Now, before you go, can you tell everyone listening where they can find you if they want to follow you or get to know you more?
Tara: Sure! Instagram is my main place, and you can find me at…
I paused my editing program, the needle marking my stopping place as I removed my headphones and scrubbed my hands over my face. It was just past five thirty in the morning — way too early to be awake, for most people, let alone editing a podcast.
But this had been my new normal since returning to Oakland.
Sleep was a fleeting thing, and usually found me between the hours of midnight and three or four in the morning, and then again somewhere in the late afternoon, when I’d succumb to a two-hour nap. For the most part, I was awake — my wheels turning, mind racing to make plans for the future, body aching for me to just get moving so I would stop thinking.
Every cell and fiber that made up my being was desperate for routine, for something to work toward, for distraction.