She left.

I thought she was the one. She was the one.

She wasn't the one?

That couldn't be true. It isn't – wasn't, it can't be...but it is. How could she be -the one- if she isn't even here? How can I go on loving...no, how can I not love her.

Rachel.

When I think of the future...when I close my eyes, it's vivid: We're holding hands, eating soft-serve with our daughter, Emma – we're laughing, smiling with our eyes, grinning with our mouths – I kiss a bit of vanilla off her lips, and she's gone.

I awake with a fright. No, that's a lie – I'm numb. I awake mechanically, pulling off the covers and dressing into my routine.

I laugh. It's funny, how my life revolves around a single girl.

It's shocking. It's maddening.

It's pathetic. I hate myself. She must hate me too.

That's why she left.

She's back.

It's been six months. I've gotten better, thanks to time. It heals all wounds, doesn't it? God, I wish it did.

This is one wound that will permanently scar. You can see it, if you look closely; I can feel it, when I look at her.

She's as beautiful as ever. Her smile still radiant, blinding – real. How can she do that? I envy her.

I look in the mirror, and I see a shell. I'm fine, I say. I'm fine.

I can smile too.

"Ross, are you ready? Emma and I are all set to go to the park, isn't that right Em?"

"Yeah!"

Ah. Alright Ross. Look lively. Gel, comb, cold water to the face – you can do this.

I look into the mirror and smile. I look into my eyes and wonder what the hell I'm doing.

"Coming!"

"Nice day huh," I say, doing my best to maintain a small smile.

"Yeah, it really is," she replies, one side of her lip quirked up in a half-smile. She doesn't need to fake it. She doesn't feel the need to.

"So...I know we kinda talked about it as a group, but uh, how's Paris?"

"Um, it's-it's great, actually. Yeah, it took some time to get used to – you know, to settle in to the apartment, and the culture, and the new job. And Emma, well, she's cute now, but she can be a real handful sometimes, y'know? It gets tough. Being a single mom, it's – it's tough."

She looks away at that last statement, shifting uncomfortably on the park bench. Her smile falters.

And then it's back.

"But anyway, how's your life been? Any...exciting new, um, fossils?"

A knowing smile. She knows how fucked up I am.

I shoot her a look. I know she knows, and I want her to know that.

She looks away again, instead focusing her attention on Emma, who is playing in the sand.

"Yeah. Err, no, no new fossils, but um...yeah. I've..."

I look down at my hands. I wish I could see how pathetic I look right now.

"I'm okay."

I'm fine. I smirk at that thought.

"Ross..."

I was never a good liar.

"Really...I am. Seeing you and Emma, and how happy you both are – it makes me happy too."

I look her in the eyes.

"Really happy."

I give her my best smile. The best I can manage. And really, it's true. I am happy for her, and for Emma.

I am.

I just wish I was included in their happiness.

I hear Emma laughing, and my eyes soften. She's so beautiful. I miss that laugh so much.

I can feel Rachel's eyes on me, and I know they're full of pity.

It's unbearable.

I get up off the bench and sit down with Emma in the sand. A genuine smile, when I look at her. The first in what feels like forever. I put everything out of my mind, and focus on the moment.

I'm with my daughter. My Emma.

I get to work on outlining a fossil in the sand, alongside Emma's various mounds and holes.

She giggles and grabs my finger.

"Daddy!"

I could feel my heart swell two times its size.

I have the overwhelming feeling of wanting to share this moment with the woman I love.

I look back at the bench and see her, fresh tears on her cheeks, half-smile, half-grimace.

I know she feels it too; how right this is, that this is how it should be.

She took this away from me.

Why can't I hate her for it?

I gather Emma up into my arms, and shed tears of my own.

I lay on top of my bed, like a starfish – drying out. Dying out.

I shake my head. These morbid thoughts are not helping.

I need Rachel. She can bring me back to life.

I dial her cell.

"Hello?"

"Rachel."

"Ross?"

I go silent.

"Ross, what's up? Why are you calling? ...Is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry. Please come back."

"Ross...we've been over this. A thousand times. I thought you were better?"

"Well, I'm not. I never have been. It's not even about you anymore – or about love. It's about how... how fucking stupid you are for leaving in the first place! How you took Emma away from me! She's my child just as much as she is yours, she belongs with her father! She deserves a family that's not fucking broken!"

"Oh no, don't you fucking start with me right now. I don't need this shit, Ross."

"Oh, you don't need this shit. Well, what about what I need, huh? Was I just a throwaway fuckdoll for you to impregnate yourself with?"

"Oh my god, Ross! What is wrong with you? See, this is why I left. Things would have never worked out between us, because you're too much of an immature, egotistical asshole who has to get his way, or he'll whine and pout until he does! Well not this time, buddy, so why don't you go and deal with it and jump off a fucking cliff or something."

Click.

That went well. I needed to hear that. If she didn't somehow hate me before, she definitely does now. I can finally move on.

Her wedding is in three months; I'll need to bring a date.

I dial Chandler's cell.

"Chandler?"

"Ross, buddy, old pal! What's up man? Just a sec, puttin' the twins to bed. Get in there, ya little rascals! You want me to read you a book? Monica! They want to be read a book! I can't do it myself, I've got Ross on the phone! No, I'm not gonna hang up Mon, it's my best friend we're talking about! I swear he's actually on the phone! No, this isn't another attempt to get out of it! Thanks, hunny. Anyways, Ross, what's going on? Talk as long as you like."

"Rachel's getting married."

"Yeah, I heard. That must suck man."

"I need a date."

"Oh shit, you actually wanna go? Damn dude, props."

"Yeah. So, know anyone?"

"Shit, just a couple of neighbourly old widowers, not much of a social life with the kids and all. Lemme see if Mon knows someone. Hey Mon, know any young hot ladies for Ross to employ as arm candy for Rachel's wedding? No, not like prostitutes, friends! Okay, okay, slash the young and hot and arm candy employable, know any ladies that are single? Christine? That the fat one? Okay, my bad, curvy! Alright, so uh, seems like she does – she'll call you tomorrow with the deets."

"Great. Thanks man. I'm gonna go to bed."

"Sure buddy, any time. In fact, any time around this time. Talk to ya later!"

Click.

I lie down in my bed and burrow under the covers, seeking warmth.

I dream of Rachel, and the groom with no face, walking up the aisle.

Her face is blurry. She's not the Rachel I know. She's not my Rachel.

I turn away and see Emma. Her face is clear, laughing.

She's drawing in the sand; a fossil, scribbled over.

I envelope her tiny body within my arms and squeeze tight, never wanting to let go.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, over and over.