The Definition of Fate

Chapter 6

How easy
it is
to forget
that while we
spend our time

chasing sunlight,

the darkness
spends its time
chasing

us.

-Tyler Knott Gregson

When Saturday morning comes and Emmalee pounds on my door at 7:00 A.M., I contemplate murder and wonder why I didn't hide a kitchen knife under my pillow for such a time as this.

"Go away!" I yell into my pillow.

When we first moved in together, we decided that we had to set aside a certain time every week for roommate bonding. For whatever harebrained reason, I thought Saturday breakfast would be a fun tradition, the one day of the week on which I can actually sleep in. Emmalee, of course, has made sure that we never miss roommate breakfast even when we spend the rest of our free time together.

"It's breakfast time," she says.

I sigh. "I know, but I was up late last night. I need to sleep."

I haven't told her yet about Aaron and I'm not sure when I will. I spent most of last night doing all the traditional post-breakup tasks. I gathered a box of his belongings: his bag of Colombian coffee and his owl mug, his baggy college sweatshirt that I kidnapped, a few books I borrowed but never read. I'm hoping, praying, that the sooner I root him out of my life, the sooner this guilt will fade away. So far, no luck.

"Rachel!"

I finally get out of bed, my hair plastered against one side of my head and one shoulder hanging out of my pajama top, an old debate t-shirt throwback to my teenage self. When I open the door, Emmalee is fully dressed and standing with one hip cocked and her braids draped over one shoulder.

"Emmalee, last night was one of the worst nights of my life." I fight to keep my voice calm. "I went to bed at 3:00 A.M. and I didn't sleep well. Please, just today, let me skip roommate breakfast."

For a moment she looks disappointed, but then she scooches past me and sits on my bed, kicking off her flip flops. "So tell me what happened?"

I feel a flash of surprise. I can't remember the last time she asked me about my life--or maybe she has, but I wasn't listening. Part of me wants to kick her out of my room so I can go back to sleep, but the pounding drum in my head assures me I won't get any more rest today. I curl up on the bed, squeezing a chevron patterned pillow between my knees and my chest and resting my chin on it.

"Aaron and I broke up," I mumble, my words muffled by the pillow.

Emmalee's eyebrows shoot up. "What? Are you kidding? You two were so good together! What happened? Are you okay?"

Her onslaught of questions make me laugh and groan at the same time as I bury my face in the pillow and roll over on my side. "It gets worse," I grumble. "He proposed."

When I look up again, her face is blank and her mouth is open in shock. I wait for her to say something, but then I realize that there's nothing to say. It was my decision to make, I made it, and now I have to live with it.

"And you said no."

I heave a sigh, squeezing my eyes shut as my brain replays the confused, heartbroken expression on Aaron's face. "I said no." 

"How do you feel about that?" Emmalee asks.

I feel a stab of guilt for complaining about her to Aaron so often; right now, she's empathizing with me, and that's what I need. I need someone who won't pass judgment on me or see the error in my ways; my mistakes are clear enough. Emmalee's empathy and listening ear make her a welcome friend.