Chapter 3

The change happened little by little.

The first week after I stopped chasing Ethan, I felt a bit out of sorts.

My hand would instinctively reach for my phone, wanting to open SnapChat to see if he'd replied.

Then I'd remember---I hadn't sent any messages.

I didn't send any, so naturally there was nothing to wait for.

It was a strange feeling.

Like a person who'd been running for ten years suddenly hitting the brakes.

Inertia kept you moving forward, but your feet had already stopped.

On the third day, I made a decision.

On my way home from work, instead of going straight home, I turned down a street I'd never taken before.

At the end of the street was a gym, orange light spilling through the glass doors.

I stood at the entrance for thirty seconds, then pushed the door open.

The receptionist asked if I wanted a trial class.

"I'll take an annual membership."

Three thousand six hundred dollars.

My hand didn't even shake when I swiped the card.

This was the first time I'd spent a significant amount of money on myself without messaging Ethan to say "I got a gym membership."

Before, if I spent more than two hundred dollars, I'd tell him proactively, like I was reporting to him.

His reaction was always the same: "Okay, if it makes you happy."

Now I stopped reporting.

On the fifth day, I pulled out that gray canvas bag from the corner.

Inside were my college sketches, design drafts, and that offer letter from the design firm.

The offer was long expired, of course, but the drafts remained.

When I opened the first page, I caught the smell of old paper.

Daisy came over to look.

"Did you draw this, Mom? It's so pretty!"

"Yeah, Mom used to draw."

"Used to? Can't you draw anymore?"

I looked at her earnest little face.

"I still can. I just haven't drawn in a long time."

That night after Daisy fell asleep, I cleared off the dining table, spread out paper, and drew.

My hand was rusty.

The lines weren't as clean as before.

But when I finished the last stroke, something inside me loosened.

Like a pipe that had been clogged for ages finally dripping out a drop of water.

During those two weeks, Ethan didn't notice a thing.

I stopped messaging him---he didn't ask "Why aren't you messaging me anymore?"

I stopped calling---he didn't call to ask "Why haven't you been calling lately?"

I stopped waiting by the door---he'd come home, change shoes, eat, scroll his phone, sleep.

Everything as usual.

Turned out my presence meant so little.

So little that I could disappear and he wouldn't even notice.

Before, I thought that was pathetic.

Now I thought---that's fine.

It meant that me not chasing him didn't affect him at all.

So what was the point of chasing him for ten years?

The point was: there was no point.

Those four words hurt more than any time he'd hung up on me.

But after the pain came a strange kind of relief.

My friend Sarah asked me to dinner.

She was the only college friend I'd stayed in touch with over the years.

After we sat down and ordered, she spoke first.

"You look better lately."

"Do I?"

"Yeah. Before, your first sentence to me was always 'He didn't reply to my messages again.' Today you didn't mention it."

I smiled slightly.

"I stopped chasing."

Sarah's hand froze mid-reach for her food.

"What did you say?"

"I said I'm not chasing Ethan anymore."

She put down her fork and looked at me carefully for five seconds.

Then she did something.

She applauded.

Right there in the steakhouse, with the neighboring tables looking over, she clapped three times loudly..

"Madison, that's the clearest thing you've said in ten years."

Her clapping left me a bit dazed, and also wanting to cry.

But I held it in.