Chapter 5: Memory and Farewell

7

Mentioning my mom, I hesitated. If anyone least wanted us to divorce, it was her. Rachel and I started at seventeen—just two kids with dreams and no money. We split Subway sandwiches, I picked out the meat for her. In winter, I drove a beat-up pickup for odd jobs, saved up for a ring. Rachel cried when I gave it to her: “Thank you, Melissa. I’ll never let you down.”

We lived in a basement apartment with no heat, clinging together for warmth. In summer, it was so hot we’d sleep in the city park, swatting mosquitoes and dreaming of air conditioning. My mom saw it all. She sold everything to help Rachel start her business. When Rachel made it, she bought a condo with central air and heat. She promised my mom she’d take care of me forever.

My mom cried. “You two better stick together.”

I believed we would. But in a few short years, Rachel cheated. My mom got cancer. Treatment cost a fortune. If not for Rachel’s help, I might have lost her already.

But now... “No need to trouble you. Thank you.” I ended the conversation and left. The hallway air felt cold. My mom’s words echoed as I walked away.

8

Outside Rachel’s building, Jason called after me. He fiddled with his expensive suit—Rachel had bought me the same brand once. “Thanks for letting us be together. For letting go of Rachel.” He smirked, all quarterback swagger. “You’re welcome. Just hope you don’t end up like me.” I smiled, more warning than joke.

Jason’s grin faltered, then snapped back. “How could I be like you? Haven’t you seen how Rachel feels about me?”

He was talking about that party long ago. Rachel took Jason to meet her friends. Someone mentioned me and Rachel. “Rachel was out late for work once. Melissa waited for her outside and was harassed by a homeless guy.” Jason, holding Rachel, sneered, “Seriously? That’s messed up.” The room burst out laughing. I was outside the door, planning to catch them in the act, but I heard it all. I felt like I’d fallen into an icy hell.

What hurt most was Rachel’s attitude. She sat on the couch, leaning against Jason, silent and smiling while everyone mocked me. Like I was a stranger, not the woman she’d once loved. Later, during a drinking game, Rachel sipped wine from Jason’s mouth. At his urging, she said, “Melissa, gross.”

9

That was one of Jason’s victories. He looked smug, satisfied. I stared at him. “Did you forget what I did that day? Want a reminder?”

Jason’s face blanched. He remembered. That night, I stormed in, dragged him away from Rachel, and punched him twice. I grabbed his neck, slammed him on the table. “Laugh, huh? Do you know what happened to that homeless guy?”

I smashed a wine bottle. Jason screamed. I pressed the broken glass to his cheek. “Just like today, I messed him up.”

The room went silent. Rachel stopped me, shoving me aside. Jason cowered behind her. “Rachel, look at her.” Rachel’s eyes burned. She slapped me once, almost a second time, but stopped when she saw the hatred in my eyes. “Melissa...” For a second, there was a flicker of pain in her gaze.

“Rachel, you can’t bring yourself to hit me, can you?”

In that moment, I slapped her with everything I had. My hand shook afterward. That was the start of our end. Rachel asked for a divorce, moved out, and started living with Jason.

10

Jason never tried to cross me again. “Now that Rachel divorced you, do you still dare to act so tough?”

“That’s none of your business,” I shot back, and walked away.

Back home, I packed. I wanted the house, but not the memories. I put it up for sale and bought a plane ticket. Rachel gave me so much money—I figured I should spend it. I’d travel, then come back for the final papers.

The day before I left, I got a message: [Hi Melissa, I’m the YouTuber from Time Capsule. Your street interview will be posted at 7 pm Sunday. Just to confirm—you really don’t mind?]

I wasn’t surprised. The day after seeing Rachel and Jason’s video, I’d wandered the streets and been interviewed by the same YouTuber, the same question. It felt absurd, but what a coincidence. I answered honestly, wondering if Rachel would see it.

[I don’t mind. Go ahead.]

I sent my reply, zipped my suitcase, and left. The sun was setting as I stepped out, suitcase in hand. For the first time in years, the future felt like mine—and that was enough.