I took in a shaky breath. “I know that feeling of powerlessness. That struggle against it. That constant second-guessing. I’ve lived it for the past thirteen years, since she died. If only I had refused to get on the bus. If only I had refused to leave her behind. If only I had been a little older, been able to take care of her like a man instead of the boy that I was…” I drew in a long ragged breath and said nothing.

Mr. Olmquist sat back and stared at me, his mouth hanging open. Mrs. Olmquist was openly sobbing into her tissue and Evy’s mother was swiping at her eyes with her hand. I didn’t take my eyes off the man in front of me. “I know that addiction is addiction, whether it’s alcohol or food or gambling or even a video game. A person with that predilection inside of him will gravitate toward his poison of choice and unless he can get help for himself, the ones he loves are helpless to stop it. And my hope for you—for all of you—is that you don’t do what I have done. Don’t live your lives with regret, with the secret shame of not being able to change what you were unable to change.”

The meeting ended not long after that. Mr. Olmquist and I managed to shake hands, not quite meeting each other’s eyes. When they had walked out, Jordan turned, watching me carefully. “Dude, I have to ask but…you didn’t just make all that shit up to get yourself off the hook, did you?”

I looked at him like he’d just babbled at me in Klingon. “Wow, you’ve got a great opinion of me, don’t you?”

He snorted and then grew serious. “No, it’s just that …well, that was some heavy shit. I…I really had no idea.”

I wanted to shrug it off. Wanted to blow off the concern, which made me feel uncomfortable, undeserving of sympathy. Instead I accepted it. “I never talk about that shit. And I guess that was my big mistake.”

He studied me closely and nodded.

I looked away, rubbing my jaw. “I think that’s what she was trying to tell me,” I muttered.

Jordan paused. “Mia?”

I nodded. She’d said that losing Bree had defined me and she was right. I’d kept that secret shame over my powerlessness close to my soul. I’d used it as armor, to keep everyone at a distance, especially her. I’d used the fear of loss to drive me to recklessness. To hurting her.

And all I could think of in that moment was how right she was about me. How she knew me better than anyone else, had looked into my soul, seen the worst of me and never looked away—not until my own wild fear had driven me to push her away.

The emotion that rose in my throat must have shown on my face because Jordan excused himself, presumably to give me a moment to collect myself.

That night when I got back to my hotel room, I had to pack up in preparation for the next leg of the trip in the morning—the short hop to Washington, DC. But before I crashed, I picked up my cell phone and stared at it. It was midnight on the East Coast, but only 9 p.m. in California. I wanted to call her. Needed to hear her voice. My finger hovered over her number, but I didn’t do it. I couldn’t risk her not answering. I felt too tender, too vulnerable to put myself out there like that tonight.

My thumb hovered over the send button…

Hey. Just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you. xoooooo (all the o’s mean tight hugs)

She’d probably do a double take. We seldom exchanged lovey-dovey text messages. Our text exchanges were usually utilitarian. Meet me here. See you there, etc. We saved the intimate stuff for up close and personal time, the way I liked it. With a deep sigh, I deleted the text before I could send it. I tried to ignore this pain compressing my chest. Tossing my phone aside, I lay in bed, awake for hours.

I was beginning to figure that I was catching a clue of how I needed to proceed with her. That moment of epiphany, that thing that Jordan said—about sometimes you just had to concede in order to end a long struggle that would lead to even more harm—it stayed with me. Like it might be a clue for how to deal with this thing with Emilia if I could just figure out how it applied. I’d considered and then rejected advice from The Art of War that went along those lines. The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without feeling disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service…is the jewel of the kingdom

I was willing to concede, finally. I was willing to put this in her hands. I had no idea when I’d get the opportunity to do it or whether or not it was too late. Everything was so out of my hands, so jumbled…and so uncertain.

***

The following week was the congressional hearing about addiction and online video games. I’d been subpoenaed as a key witness, along with officers from other prominent companies. My old boss from Sony was there. We had lunch together, laughing about old times while he jokingly berated me for the competition Dragon Epoch was giving his company’s creation, Everquest, and its sequel games.