The Last Lecture

The Last Lecture
In April, I made arrangements to teach a weeklong seminar at
UNC. That would allow me to help her pack up so we could drive
her belongings up to Pittsburgh.
After I arrived in Chapel Hill, Jai told me we needed to talk. She
was more serious than I had ever seen her.
“I can’t come to Pittsburgh. I’m sorry,” she said.
I wondered what was in her head. I asked for an explanation.
Her answer: “This is never going to work.” I had to know why.
“I just…” she said. “I just don’t love you the way you want
me to love you.” And then again, for emphasis: “I don’t love
you.”
I was horrified and heartbroken. It was like a punch in the gut.
Could she really mean that?
It was an awkward scene. She didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t
know how to feel. I needed a ride over to my hotel. “Would you be
kind enough to drive me or should I call a cab?”
She drove me, and when we got there, I pulled my bag out of her
trunk, fighting back tears. If it’s possible to be arrogant, optimistic and
totally miserable all at the same time, I think I might have pulled it off:
“Look, I’m going to find a way to be happy, and I’d really love to be
happy with you, but if I can’t be happy with you, then I’ll find a way to
be happy without you.”
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