There’s this saying about breakups – women grieve immediately but heal in a month, while men might take ages to realize what they’ve lost.
Then comes the desperate backpedaling.
Henry’s backpedaling came late after six months of dominating the ice at Minnesota and a quiet Thanksgiving break, he suddenly became a constant presence in my life.
I never figured out what excuse he gave his hockey coach for missing practices, but he kept showing up in New York. Expensive violin accessories appeared at my dorm – I returned them all. He’d wait outside my practice rooms for hours, refusing to leave. When he caught me, he’d trail me to theory class, to the cafeteria, everywhere.
Jake was beside himself, torn between amusement and irritation. “You know, most violinists don’t have their step–brothers fly across the country to stalk them,” he’d joke, but I could hear the worry beneath.
Dad called constantly, frantic that Henry was risking academic probation, begging me to talk sense into him. The irony wasn’t lost on me – golden boy of Minnesota hockey throwing everything away for the step–sister he’d once thrown away.
Finally, I confronted him in Lincoln Center Plaza.
the
Henry immediately lost it. “Why can Jake pursue you but I can’t? He’s known you for what, five minutes? I’ve known you my whole life. Nobody knows you like I do, nobody’s better for you than me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Really, Henry? Have you forgotten everything you did? Did you ever take my dreams seriously? You just loved having someone worship you, knowing I’d always be there no matter how many times you dismissed my music as ‘just a hobby.“”
Hit with the truth, he cracked. “Yes, I messed up. I was young and stupid, thought the whole world was waiting for me. I didn’t want to be tied down. I owe you a real apology – I’m sorry, Iris.”
His voice softened. “But even if you see me as a stranger now, don’t I deserve a chance to win you back? Since you’ve been gone, I can’t adjust to life without you. I can’t imagine not sharing everything with you anymore.”
The evening wind off the bay whipped around us as I considered my words carefully.
“You know what I learned after leaving? Real love shouldn’t feel like walking on eggshells. I can be myself now, my happiness doesn’t depend on someone else’s mood. Maybe what I felt for you wasn’t love – maybe it was just teenage naivety.”
He looked like I’d struck him. When he finally spoke, his voice was small. “But we had plans – you’d come to my games, I’d make it to the NHL, and you’d…” He trailed off, unable to finish because he’d never actually included my violin in those plans.
“You broke them first,” I said gently. “And I’ve found someone I actually want to do those things with now.”
His composure finally broke, eyes reddening. “Stop, please just stop.”
Seeing his pain, I offered one last piece of advice: “Maybe you don’t really love me. Maybe you just can’t stand losing. Henry, it’s time for you to move on too.”
I didn’t wait for his response. Jake was waiting across the street, and I ran to him.
He immediately laced his fingers through mine. “Finally got rid of your step–brother? Did you tell him I’m your official listener now?”
I laughed through threatening tears.
Looking back one last time, I saw Henry still frozen by the water. His hockey jacket out of place among the arts patrons.
Some people stay in your life forever. Others are just chapters in your story.
38.9%
Ch
