It's Different This Time

by Joss Richard

Him being okay is more hurtful than I could have imagined.

The thing about lightning in a bottle is that it’s a fleeting moment in time, a spark that’s rare and special…but it’s also impossible to re-create.

It’s not that I’m not open to dating. I just don’t usually put myself in situations where anyone can approach me, or I can approach them. The only relationship I’m interested in having is the one with my career.

“Terrified,” I say honestly. “Embrace that,” she says with a finger pointed. “That’s what it means to be human.”

It’s the most perfectly crisp and clear October morning. As Adam and I walk toward the perimeter of the Union Square farmers market, I’m hit with the smell of maple and the warmth of sunshine on my face.

Part of me doesn’t want Adam to know I’m scared. It’s been five years, and I’m supposed to be better than this. I’m supposed to want to show him how much better off I am and how confident I’ve become. But he does this thing where he looks at me and doesn’t judge me. Like my career isn’t the one thing that defines me.

“An autumn walk in Central Park,” Adam says. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a tourist,” he says, walking toward the subway. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re taking New York for granted.” I hurry to keep up with him.

It’s an attraction where you just need someone with your entire body and soul. The physical exterior is only a bonus—I want his mind, his thoughtfulness, his protectiveness. I want all of him.

Blessed to know this feeling so well. Healing from knowing this feeling so well.

Since I’m sandwiched between my two biggest cheerleaders, I don’t fight them, and I let it settle in that this is really happening.

“We knight thee,” Sarah continues, “June Wood-Harper. And this is a promise that we’ll always be family no matter what happens.”

I’m not, and never was, looking for fame. If that were the case, I would’ve taken Shivani’s advice and started a TikTok account years ago. The validation of having those girls want to meet me isn’t some satisfaction of being famous, it’s knowing that I was really good at one point. I used to be really good at what I did, and I loved it.

Maybe that’s how life is—we do things because it’s the best decision we can make in the moment, and there’s no way of knowing if we made the right choice. There’s no way to gauge if all of it’s for nothing, or if it’s so we can have everything.

There’s a pain deep in my core that spreads throughout my body. It hits my hands and my feet, and finally lodges itself in my throat. The realization is too much to bear. I did to Adam what people did to me my entire life.

Years of chasing approval from my mother, figuring out why my father didn’t stay; it always felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough. I now see that it was never about me. It was about them. Their insecurities, their fears, and their reasons were out of my control.

A smile flickers on my face and a sound of disbelief leaps out of me. I cover my mouth in embarrassment. Maybe everything happened the way it was supposed to. Maybe the things worth having in life aren’t supposed to come easy. Despite the years apart, Adam and I have found our way back. We want to love each other and now we can. The way we deserve to be loved.

His arms wrap around me, and when we kiss, everything is worth it. All the nights we went into our respective bedrooms, watching each other go on dates with other people, denying our feelings, and all the years apart. It was worth it.

If you were to see a snapshot of this moment, you might be able to guess what’s happening. Us eating lasagna while watching a rom-com. Me reciting my lines in my head while Adam thinks of a new dish for his restaurant. A brownstone sitting in the middle of the West Village on a crisp autumn evening. It’s a moment in time that looks just like one from years before, but it’s not. It’s different this time.