“I've never treated anyone as bad as I treated you, Jane. I just wasn't there but I didn't know how to communicate this to you.”
It was the other side of the story, the one I never heard before.
But now, with a new life and a new, more confident me, I had sought out the guy who had broken my heart just a few years earlier to see if he would meet up with me when I was back in town.
He agreed to, and we did, although if I was honest with myself, I was looking for more than just an explanation. I also wanted to see what might still be there now that time and distance was now between us and I was finally feeling confident on my own.
You know, that “let him see me now with how much I've changed and see if what couldn't be back then, might be possible be now” kind of story we all want to see.
And so over pasta in a hip little restaurant in the trendy West end of my hometown Vancouver, I asked him what I never had the courage to ask when I found myself sick over our relationship a few short years ago: “Why?”
He didn't know.
He couldn't answer me.
Except to say that he knew he had never treated anyone as badly as me – as badly as I knew in my heart I had allowed him to treat me.