Four People. Three Clay Figures. I Stopped Being The One Left Out Chapter 09

Four People. Three Clay Figures. I Stopped Being The One Left Out Chapter 09

I didn’t open the package. Sent it straight back.

Three days later, damon showed up at the café across from my office.

He didn’t stop me. Just watched through the glass.

When i got up to leave, he walked over.

“Did you get the figure?”

“Sent it back.”

“Why?”

“Because it isn’t mine.”

His eyes reddened.

“Your name’s on it.”

“Having my name on it doesn’t make it mine.”

Just like they used to say i was the most important person.

But every time there was a choice to make, i was the one left behind.

Damon’s voice dropped.

“I’m not in contact with vivian anymore.”

“The five thousand you transferred me last year. I put it back on your card.”

“I know it’s too late to say anything. But i really regret it.”

I nodded.

“I know.”

A flicker of hope in his eyes.

“So can we-”

“No.”

Calm.

“Damon. Your regret is yours.”

“I don’t owe you the rest of my life as a reward for it.”

He stood there. Didn’t speak for a long time.

The coffee went cold. I got up and left.

Outside, adrian was leaning against the curb.

He’d clearly seen everything. Didn’t bring up forgiveness.

“I’m going abroad for work.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

“That’s good.”

He forced a smile.

“Might be years.”

“Mm. Good luck.”

My tone was like saying goodbye to an ordinary friend.

Adrian lowered his head. Pulled the four-leaf clover bracelet from his pocket.

The one i’d mailed back. He’d kept it on him.

“Blair. I keep thinking about when we were kids.”

“That time you had a fever. I carried you three blocks.”

“And after the sat. I said no matter where you went, i wouldn’t lose you.”

His eyes welled up.

“I was the first one by your side.”

“How did i end up being the one who hurt you the most?”

I didn’t answer.

Some relationships don’t fall apart because of strangers.

They fall apart because you’re too familiar.

Too sure the other person won’t leave.

He gave his favor to someone who came later.

He asked me to remember the old days.

“Blair.”

His voice was hoarse.

“If i’d turned around earlier, would we still have a chance?”

“No.”

“Even without damon?”

“Still no.”

I looked at him. Word by word.

“This isn’t me choosing between you two.”

“It’s me not wanting either of you.”

Adrian’s eyes finally went red.

He didn’t stop me. Just said, quiet, as i turned.

“I’m sorry.”

My steps didn’t pause.

That night, california had its first snow.

I had dinner with coworkers. Walked along the river for a long time.

No arguments on my phone. No late explanations.

I looked up at the falling snow. The winter didn’t feel cold.

Next thanksgiving. I went back to the town.

Company retreat this time.

A coworker booked the pottery studio in advance.

He asked everyone in the group what they wanted to make.

I replied.

[a little rabbit.]

Responses came fast.

Someone wanted a vase. Someone a mug.

Someone reminded the owner to double-check the headcount.

At the studio, twelve pieces of clay on the table.

Not one more. Not one less.

A coworker saved me the window seat.

“Good light here. Sit here.”

I tied on the apron. Shaped the clay into a rabbit.

One ear higher than the other. Like the one damon gave me ten years ago.

But this time, i didn’t carve anyone’s name on the bottom.

Just a date.

It didn’t mark a friendship. Or companionship.

It marked me. Finding myself again.

Kiln night. No one left halfway.

When the fire lit up, a coworker raised a camera. Asked if i wanted a group shot.

I stood in the center. Smiled. Nodded.

After the photo, a text from an unknown number.

Damon said he’d sold the old apartment.

The travel journal, he left at the jingdezhen pottery shop.

He said vivian moved to another city.

The three of them hadn’t gathered since.

I didn’t reply.

Whether they’d scattered wasn’t my concern.

Later, a mutual friend mentioned damon hadn’t dated anyone since.

Every year, he went to see a kiln fire.

Never found the person he was waiting for.

Adrian sent a few postcards from france.

No return address. Just cities on the back.

The last one.

[i always thought you’d be there.]

[now i know. I’m the one who lost you.]

I read it. Put it in the recycling bin.

Not spite.

My life just didn’t need their regret to prove its worth anymore.

After the retreat, i didn’t leave right away.

Went to see the sea alone.

The wishes in the old journal.

I was checking them off. One by one.

Sometimes with friends.

Sometimes alone.

End of the year. The company promoted me to project lead.

Moving into my new office, everyone sent sunflowers.

My assistant asked where i wanted them.

I pointed at the window.

“Over there. There’s sunlight.”

Afternoon. A package from the pottery shop.

The rabbit, out of the kiln. Warm glaze. Ears still crooked.

I set it on the windowsill.

No other three figures.

It didn’t need company.

My phone rang. A friend asking about a hike this weekend.

I said yes. Wrote my own name on a new travel plan.

Blair.

Not fourth in line anymore.

Not waiting for anyone to save me a spot.

Sunlight fell on the ceramic rabbit.

My road had just begun.