I lay in bed staring up into the darkness. I could almost make out my ceiling, if I tried hard enough. I was covered to my neck in my white comforter, my arms stiff at my sides. I’d been trying to fall asleep for about an hour. No luck. Beneath me, my mattress felt completely uninviting. Beside me, my boyfriend Paul, shifted positions in bed. He was still awake. This was it.
“Tomorrow’s Seth Grady’s birthday.” I spoke, breaking the silence. There. I’d said it.
“Huh? So?” Paul replied, half asleep. He had no idea yet how important this was. He snuggled into his pillow comfortably.
“I’m going to wish him a happy birthday.” I revealed, still staring at the ceiling. It sounded almost as if I had just decided to do it that minute. But I hadn’t. I had taken a long time planning, agonizing, choosing the exact words to execute my plan. I had to do it, for the dreams to stop. I had to do it in order to be fully present in this relationship. I had to do it for closure. I had to do it to get out of my head. I had to do it.
“What? Why? You haven’t talked to him in like over a year, have you?”
“Nope.” But what was the worst that could happen?