CHAPTER 11
Two weeks later, I flew back to Wisconsin in a state of denial. I’d
accepted the breakup at first, but as the shock wore off, a strange
silence set in—a hollow space where Mick used to be. I missed him
more than I’d imagined possible, and part of me believed we could still
work things out. We just needed a face-to-face conversation. Once he
looked me in the eyes, he’d change his mind. It was wishful—and
perhaps childish—thinking, but I clung to it anyway.
My dad picked me up at the airport like always, but for the first time,
he was running late. As I stood on the curb outside baggage claim, the
thick summer air clung to my skin—not just with humidity, but with
pressure behind my ribs. I hugged my arms to my chest and scanned the
line of idling cars.
Halfway home, he asked about Mick. I confessed that we’d broken
up.
“Oh, no,” he said, glancing over at me. “What happened?”
“It’s the distance. It’s just too hard.”
The words scraped my throat.
He reached for my hand and squeezed. “Oh, kiddo. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “We’re talking tonight. Maybe we can still
figure it out.”
“I sure hope so. You two are perfect together.”
I forced a smile. In some ways, it was true. From the first moment I
laid eyes on Mick, he felt like my soul mate. I couldn’t imagine ever
loving anyone the way I loved him. At the same time, I wondered
whether two people could truly be soul mates when they wanted such
different futures.
—
When we got home, I talked briefly to my mom. Like my dad, she was
so sure of Mick and me that I felt the kernel of hope growing in my
chest.
When the doorbell rang, my parents went upstairs.
I took a breath, smoothed my hair, and opened the front door.
My heart raced when I saw him standing there in faded jeans, a white
T-shirt, and a navy baseball cap.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he said. His jaw was set, his eyes unreadable. It didn’t feel like
a good sign.
I kept hoping anyway, thanking him for coming over and asking if
he’d like a drink.
“I’m good,” he said.
I nodded, then led him through the house to our back patio.
We sat in porch chairs, facing each other. I waited for a few lines of
small talk to ease us in.
But it quickly became clear that wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m sorry,” I began. My voice sounded small. “I know I let you
down.”
Mick opened his mouth, then closed it.
“You did your best,” he finally said. “We both did.”
“Can we try again?” I asked. “One more time?”
He sighed. “You said it yourself, Billie—third year of medical school
is the toughest. Nothing will change.”
“What if I end up matching here?” I asked.
He let out a short, almost bitter laugh. “That’s still two years away.
And anyway, we both know you’re not coming back.”
“I might,” I said.
He shook his head. “I looked up the rankings. You’re too ambitious to
settle.”
He may have meant it as a compliment, but I heard ambitious as a
flaw New York had sharpened in me.
We both fell quiet. The sky shifted from blue to violet. A dog barked
in the distance. Mick rubbed his hands over his face. He looked tired in a
way I hadn’t seen before.
“Can we at least be friends?” I asked, my voice quivering.
He looked into my eyes for a long time, then shook his head slowly.
“That’s not going to work.”
“Why not?” I whispered.
“Because I can’t hear about your life in New York and live in dread
of the day you fall in love with someone else. I don’t want to be just
another name in your phone.”
The sting hit before my tears.
“So that’s it?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, Billie. But a clean break is the only way I know how to do
this.”
I looked at him, trying to memorize every line and curve of his face.
“I’ll always love you,” he finally said.
“I’ll always love you, too.”
And more, I thought. At least we had that settled.
When he stood, I did, too. He pulled me into a hug, and I buried my
face in his chest, breathing him in one final time.
He let go first.
We walked around the house to the driveway.
I watched him climb into his truck, then start the engine. Headlights
washed the driveway white.
I didn’t move until he drove out of sight.
—
Inside, I found my parents in the kitchen. They took one look at me and
knew.
“It’s over,” I confirmed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” my mom asked.
I shook my head. There was only one person I wanted to talk to.
I went up to my room and called Erin. She didn’t pick up.
I tried Lesli. She answered—then said all the right things—but I still
needed Erin.
I texted her: Please call me. It’s an emergency.
My phone rang right away.
“Are you okay?” she asked, quiet panic in her voice.
“No,” I sobbed. “It’s over. For good.”
“Fuck, Billie. Fuck. I’ll be right there.”
“Aren’t you in Madison?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I’m on my way.”
—
Erin pulled into the driveway less than an hour later. I slipped out the
door and climbed into her car. She leaned across the front seat and
hugged me, my cheek pressing into her maroon Minnesota hoodie. She
smelled faintly of cigarettes and vanilla body spray.
“I’m sorry I missed Lucy’s wedding,” I whispered.
“Oh, goodness,” she said. “I’m way over that.”
She backed out of the driveway, informing me that we were going to
Culver’s.
“Frozen custard fixes everything,” she added.
My face was still wet with tears, but I managed a smile. After
Culver’s, we drove around for a long time, listening to music and talking
in our old high school rhythm.
When she finally pulled back into my driveway, I asked if she would
spend the night.
“Duh,” she said, reaching across the seat to squeeze my hand.
—
On my final evening in Wisconsin, an email from the National Board of
Medical Examiners landed in my inbox with my Step 1 score. I wasn’t
ready for the results, but I clicked it open anyway, knowing I had to face
a future without Mick.
The number 247 glowed at the top. A higher score than I’d ever dared
to hope.
For a second, I felt nothing—as if success couldn’t touch the
emptiness inside me.
Then pride rose anyway, thin and guilty
