The Ex Talk

by Rachel Lynn Solomon

Being the fifth wheel is only slightly crushing when I realize I’m not anyone’s person.

Every time I imagined adulthood, it looked different from this reality.

All the important people in my life have their person.

This hits home

That’s the only action I’ve had lately: Tinder and Bumble desperately trying to win me back.

Dominic says, and he looks so upset, so perplexed that I actually feel a little sympathy for him. It’s about the size of one of Paloma’s chia seeds.

I’m trapped between the pain of remembering and the fear of forgetting.

“You don’t have to explain,” I say, though all I want is a detailed explanation with an accompanying PowerPoint presentation.

There isn’t anything I can realistically have with him that isn’t casual. If this is the only way I can have him, then I have to be okay with it.

The thing about losing someone is that it doesn’t happen just once. It happens every time you do something great you wish they could see, every time you’re stuck and you need advice. Every time you fail. It erodes your sense of normal, and what grows back is decidedly not normal, and yet you still have to figure out how to trudge forward.