1 Graduation trip to the island. My childhood friend, Brody, and my girlfriend, Gwen, took the speedboat first, leaving me behind. They left a post-it note stuck to the cabin door: “Go three hundred yards right of the pier, catch the 2:00 PM ferry. You got this!” But three hundred yards to the right of the pier was nothing but jagged, wave-beaten cliffs. Not a single boat in sight. I called them. Brody was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “Left! Go left! It was just a little test, man. You seriously can’t navigate to save your life.” In the background, Gwen’s voice came through, soft and sweet. “Stop teasing him, Brody. He’s going to panic. We’ll buy him a snow cone when he gets here.” The two o’clock ferry had already sailed. The next one wasn’t until four-thirty. I sat alone on a wooden piling at the dock. The Atlantic wind was howling, biting cold, but it couldn’t blow away the bitter memories drifting back to me. Back in middle school, we went to a concert. They vanished into thin air at an intersection, claiming they wanted to “build my confidence” in taking the city bus alone. I boarded the wrong line twice and ended up at a police station, where an officer had to drive me home. In high school, during our summer camping trip, they left me alone on a hiking trail in the mountains to “teach me how to read cardinal directions.” I wandered around the dense woods until pitch black, only to be rescued by a forest ranger. In college, during a road trip to a neighboring state, I went to use the restroom, and they simply drove off without me. That time, they said it was a test to see if I could read a paper road map. I had to spend half my monthly budget on two long-distance cabs just to get back to campus. Every single time they abandoned me, they claimed it was for my own good. At four-twenty, a white speck appeared on the horizon. The ferry was coming. But I didn’t board. Instead, I walked into the travel agency across from the harbor. “One ticket for the next flight back to Riverton, please.” I might not know the way to find them, but I knew exactly how to go home. “Oliver, where on earth are you?” Gwen’s call came through just as I stepped out of the airport arrivals terminal. The wheels of my suitcase rolled over the asphalt with a dull, rhythmic rumble. “The dock master said the four-thirty ferry docked ages ago. We’ve been waiting here for thirty minutes.” Her voice was still so gentle. There wasn’t a hint of guilt for leaving me alone at a deserted coastal harbor. “Did you get lost again and take the wrong boat?” I stopped walking. Looking at the endless stream of cabs outside the terminal, a bitter laugh escaped my throat. “I didn’t take the ferry.” Silence fell over the line for a second. Then Brody’s loud, mocking laughter erupted in the background. “I told you, Gwen! I bet he couldn’t even find the harbor. He’s probably crying in some alley right now.” “We should have taped that note directly to his forehead instead of the door.” Gwen chided him softly. “Brody, stop.” But her tone held a lingering, indulgent smile. “Oliver, where are you now? Don’t wander off. Send me your location, and I’ll come pick you up.” She spoke with her usual commanding authority wrapped in sweet tolerance. As if the person who had been stranded by their prank was just throwing a childish tantrum. “No need,” I said, opening the door of a yellow cab that had just pulled up. “I went home.” Gwen didn’t seem to process it. “Home? Which home? The cabin or…” “Back to our apartment. In Riverton.” My voice was flat. I gave the driver my address and shut the door. The noise on the other end of the line died instantly. Brody’s laughter cut off. Gwen’s voice dropped, thick with exasperated annoyance. “Oliver, can you stop being so dramatic?” “Brody was just joking around. He wanted you to practice using your GPS.” “Do you have any idea how much effort he put into this? He even bought your favorite mango shaved ice to welcome you, and now it’s completely melted.” “You ran all the way back to Riverton without saying a word. Did you even think about how we would feel?” I watched the streetlights flash past the window. Think about how they felt? Who had ever thought about how I felt? During our freshman year of college, we went to a neighboring city for a convention. On our way back, a heavy rainstorm hit. Brody insisted there was a famous wishing well nearby and dragged Gwen along. They walked incredibly fast, weaving through the crowded streets. Because of my terrible sense of direction, I looked down at my phone for just a second, and they were gone. I stood in the pouring rain for two hours. I couldn’t tell north from south, and my phone got waterlogged and died. Finally, a kind security guard let me use his landline, and I managed to call Gwen. By the time she found me under her umbrella, I was shivering violently from head to toe. Brody stood beside her under the dry canopy, grinning without a care in the world. “Oliver, how can you be so clueless? It’s literally a straight walk down this street.” Tears streaming down my face, I asked them why they didn’t wait for me. Gwen sighed, wrapping her coat around my shoulders. “Oliver, you can’t keep depending on me for everything.” “Brody is right. A burnt child dreads the fire. Next time, you’ll pay more attention to the signs.” Back then, I genuinely believed she was doing it out of love, wanting me to become independent. So I swallowed the bitter pill, along with the high fever that kept me in bed for a week. But now I finally understood. If someone truly loves you, how could they bear to watch you freeze in a downpour just to “teach you a lesson”? “Are you going to say something, or are you just playing mute?” Brody’s voice cut in, sharp with irritation. “It was a harmless joke. You seriously flew all the way home over that? If you can’t handle a little fun, don’t hang out with us.” Gwen took the phone back. “Oliver, I know your feelings are hurt.” “But you’re twenty-five now. You can’t keep acting like a toddler who gets lost on a straight path to a dock.” “You acted too impulsively this time. I’ll give you two days to cool off.” “Once you’ve calmed down, buy a ticket and fly back here. We’ll pretend none of this happened.” She effortlessly pinned the entire blame on me, playing the perfect, long-suffering woman tolerating her childish boyfriend. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. “Whatever you say.” I hung up, then slid my phone into airplane mode. Finally, the car fell into a quiet hush. The driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Trouble with the girlfriend, buddy?” I shook my head. “No. Just finally figured out my destination.” The cab pulled up in front of my building. I dragged my suitcase up the stairs. The electronic lock beeped, and the door swung open. The living room was exactly as we had left it before the trip. Gwen’s half-read paperback lay discarded on the couch. On the coffee table sat a half-empty cup of boba Brody had left behind when he came over to mooch a meal two days ago. They were always together, invading every corner of my life under a hundred different pretexts. And I was always the outsider, left behind, mocked, and “trained.” I walked out onto the balcony, staring into the dark night. The wind was chilly against my face, but my mind had never been clearer. Leaving the lights off, I sat in the darkness for a long time. Eventually, I toggled airplane mode off. A dozen unread messages popped up immediately, all from Gwen. The first was an accusation, asking if I knew how expensive last-minute plane tickets were. The second was a warning, telling me to stop trying to get her attention this way. The last one, sent half an hour ago, read: “Brody and I are going out for seafood. If you’re hungry, order some takeout. Don’t expect me to come home and coddle you.” I stared at the text and didn’t reply. Instead, I opened my contacts. My finger hovered over the screen before dialing a number. “Hi, is this the moving company? Do you have availability tomorrow morning?” “He’s probably just trying to bait us into chasing him. Ignore him.” The next morning, I was woken up by a barrage of social media notifications. Brody had posted a photo dump on Instagram. The first slide was a selfie of him and Gwen on the beach. Gwen was wearing an oversized white linen shirt, looking up at him with a helpless, fond smile. Brody was flashing a peace sign, grinning widely under the sun. The caption read: “Vacation is so much sweeter without a fragile crybaby dragging us down.” Mutual friends had flooded the comment section with likes. Someone asked if Oliver hadn’t gone. Brody replied: “Our little prince threw a massive fit and flew straight back to his hometown. No one could stop him.” Gwen had liked the comment. That was their dynamic. No matter what happened, I was always the one in the wrong. The party pooper, the sensitive one, the ungrateful child. I calmly swiped past the post, leaving no like, no comment. Setting my phone aside, I dragged three large moving boxes out of the storage closet and began packing. Gwen and I had been together for five years, living together for three. This apartment was cluttered with the debris of our shared life. I opened the closet. Half of it held my clothes, the other half hers. I took my shirts out one by one, folded them neatly, and stacked them into a box. From the dark corner of a shelf, a small black box tumbled out. I paused, picking it up to open it. Inside was a uniquely designed compass necklace. Gwen had given it to me for my birthday during our sophomore year of college. I remembered how she had tenderly clipped it around my neck, her voice as soft as water. “Oliver, whenever I’m not by your side, this will show you the way.” “You’ll never be lost again.” I had been deeply touched back then, believing this was what real love looked like. Until one autumn, we went hiking. Brody had stared at my necklace, his eyes gleaming, demanding to borrow it. Before I could even protest, he reached out, unclasped it, and slung it around his own neck. We hiked for hours that day. On our way down, Brody suddenly slapped his forehead, claiming he must have dropped the necklace at the rest stop near the summit. I was on the verge of tears, desperate to hike back up and look for it. But Gwen grabbed my arm, stopping me. She said it was getting dark, that the trails were dangerous. It was just a cheap trinket, she argued; she would buy me another one. Seeing my frantic distress, her brow furrowed with annoyance. “Oliver, don’t be so petty. Brody didn’t do it on purpose.” Later, she did buy another one. Only, she bought it for Brody. She claimed Brody felt incredibly guilty for losing mine, so she bought an identical one to make him feel better. As for me? She said, “You already had one anyway. Buying another would just be a waste of money.” I looked at the rusted compass in my hand, the needle frozen and useless. A self-deprecating smile touched my lips. I tossed it straight into the trash can. Some paths couldn’t be navigated with a broken compass. I went back to packing. On the coffee table sat a thick binder of travel itineraries. I had stayed up for three nights straight planning this island trip. Where the best local diners were, which beaches had the most breathtaking sunsets, I had highlighted everything. Gwen had barely glanced at it when I showed her. She scoffed, saying there was no point in planning so much when they could just follow Brody’s lead. She laughed at my poor sense of direction, mocking how I could get lost even with a map in hand. And Brody had giggled right along with her. I had felt a dull ache in my chest then, but I had quietly packed the binder anyway. Now, it was completely useless. I tore the pages to shreds, throwing them into a trash bag along with the herbal tea I had bought to suit her taste and the lavender candles she loved. My phone buzzed again. A text from Gwen: “Did you eat yet?” “I just found this amazing seafood spot. Wish you were here.” “Alright, stop acting out. Send me your location, and I’ll book you a flight back this afternoon.” Every line oozed her condescending charity. She was absolutely certain I was just throwing a tantrum, certain that I couldn’t survive without her. She thought that if she threw me a bone, I would wag my tail and crawl back. I left her on read and taped up the boxes. The movers arrived shortly after. The driver wiped his brow, gesturing to the bulky furniture left in the living room. “What about the big stuff, kid?” “Leave it,” I said, brushing the dust off my hands. “I don’t want any of it.” Anything that belonged to our shared past could rot here. The movers nodded and began hauling the boxes downstairs. I stood in the center of the echoing apartment. Gwen had signed the lease, but I paid half the rent. The photo wall was still there, a collage of our years together. I walked over and ripped the photos down, one by one, until nothing remained but a scarred, bare wall. My phone lit up. A FaceTime call from Gwen. I hesitated for a beat before swiping to answer. “Oliver, how long are you going to keep up this act?” “If you’re done crying, book your ticket and get over here. Brody is starting to feel bad.” On the screen, Gwen was lounging under a beach umbrella. The ocean breeze ruffled her hair, looking effortless and beautiful. Brody was splashing around in the surf just a few yards behind her. Seeing me pick up, Gwen’s tense expression relaxed slightly, though her tone remained patronizing. “I checked the flights. There’s a direct one at three. I sent you the money on Venmo. Go buy the ticket.” She tilted the camera to show a fresh coconut drink on the table. “Brody ordered this for you. He said he wants to make it up to you when you get here.” “See? We’re both giving you a way out. Stop being so stubborn.” I stared at her face on the screen. She looked like a total stranger. This was the woman I had loved for five years. For her, I had spent hours trying to overcome my terrible sense of direction, forcing myself to study complicated navigation apps. For her, I had endured Brody’s endless, snide remarks because she insisted he was like a brother to her. For her, I had dragged my boundaries lower and lower. And she had taken every single concession as her birthright. “Gwen,” I said softly. My voice echoed slightly in the empty room. “I’m not coming.” Gwen’s face hardened instantly. “How much longer are you going to keep this up? It’s been three days. Even tantrums have an expiration date.” “Have I spoiled you so much that you think you can manipulate me like this?” She let out a cold laugh. “Oliver, look at yourself. You can’t even navigate out of an airport without us.” “Are you waiting for me to get down on my knees and beg in front of everyone before you’re satisfied?” I looked at her, the last trace of warmth dying in my chest. “No.” I flipped the camera, aiming it at the taped boxes and the black trash bags littering the bare floor. “I’m moving out.” The screen went completely still.
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