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The tenth car or so finally stops for her and she nearly collapses in the seat she’s so relieved. And exhausted. And frustrated. And upset. “You seem like a person with a story to tell,” the driver remarks. She huffs out a laugh.“Yeah. I guess you could say that.”“So what’s your story?”“I’ve got plenty.”“And we’ve got plenty of time. Well, depending on where you’re going.” “Yeah. We’ve got plenty of time.”“Wait, I’m sorry. I haven’t even introduced myself! You can call me Vic.”“I’m . . . Judith.”“Don’t sound too sure about it.”“Yeah it’s . . .”“Don’t like your name?”“Well, more like don’t like who I was. My parents weren’t the best, which means I wasn’t the best. Shit happened, and then I met this guy, and when he asked me my name, I decided that I’d let go of my past in that moment. I’d rewrite myself as a person I wish I could’ve been. And then we fell in love, and I just. Didn’t wanna give him up. Didn’t wanna give what we had up. I ended up marrying him, and of course, he eventually found out. “He left, and I chased him all the way out here to the middle of nowhere, hoping that we just might fall back in love the way we first did, with 36 questions, the Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness. That was, of course, before he left again, this time leaving me at that motel without a car. I know this is all a big mess that could’ve been easily prevented had I come clean to him sooner, but I loved our life. I love him, and I loved how I felt about myself when I was with him, and I loved not having to think about my past and all the shitty things I’d done. That was too much, wasn’t it?” “No. I’m just . . . processing.”“I just don’t . . . I only changed a few facts about myself. And it let me be someone I wish I’d always been, and it let me be happy and by his side. How is that so bad?” “I can see where you’re coming from, but I can also see where he’s coming from. He might be hurt that you didn’t feel you could trust him with your past. What name did you give him?”“Natalie.”“He might feel betrayed that his Natalie isn’t real.”“But she basically is. Just because I changed my name doesn’t mean I changed my whole being. We’re not that different.”“Then maybe you need to show him that.”“I did. Last night was my attempt to do that. He doesn’t wanna hear me out.”“Then maybe you need to let him go now,” Vic says gently. “Your relationship doesn’t sound too healthy for either of you. There’s a lack of trust, what with you lying about some things and him leaving.”“I don’t know how to let him go,” she whispers, finally crying. Vic looks over, concerned, and extends a hand palm up across the middle. She takes the proffered hand and places their clasped hands on her thigh, wiping her tears with her right hand.“I built a life with him, the life I wanted to live, and I don’t know how to let go of game nights and cooking together and having someone who knows how to make things better and the only person I was ever truly me around,” she says when her voice is steadier. “Breaking established routines will always be hard. But if you wanna get to a place where you can be happy again, then I think you need to do that on your own so you’re not inclined to do things a certain way to please someone. I think you need to figure out for yourself who you are. It’s never too late to find that out. And maybe who you are isn’t Judith and maybe it’s not Natalie. Maybe it’s . . . Julie, a balance of the old and new- . . . -er old.” Julie. She likes the sound of that. And she likes the idea of being someone she knows and doesn’t know. “How do you know so much?”“You’ve scored a ride with a therapist,” Vic says with a smile and glance in her direction. She smiles tentatively back.Before she knows it, they’re pulling into the driveway of Jase’s childhood home. She pulls out her phone and notices she never stopped Voice Memos. “Shit! I’m so sorry; I record important things and I never stopped the recording before I got in the car, which means it’s been recording this whole time. I can delete it if you want.” “Uh . . . no. You can keep it as a reminder to yourself when things get bad.”“Thank you so much for listening and for giving me advice. It’s been so nice talking with you, Vic.”“You’re very welcome. It’s been real nice talking with you too . . .”“Julie.”“Julie,” Vic echoes with a pleased smile. “There are websites and apps out there if you ever need someone to listen. If you want to know what those are, or if you need anything at all, shoot me an email.” Julie takes the business card and leans over to hug Vic, who returns the hug. “I won’t be going in yet, but you can leave. I think I’m just gonna hang out on the porch for now.”“Okay. Take care, Julie.”“Thank you. You take care too.” She closes the car door and goes to sit on the porch. She sighs. “For the record, that was the beginning of me letting you, Jase, go. I’m also leaving the record and the business card behind. I’m gonna send the conversation of me and Vic and a picture of the business card to my email, and then leave this here with you. I don’t need the record anymore. And if you’re listening, I love you. I think I always will.” She ends the recording and sends it along with the picture of the business card to her email, just like she said she would. The phone and actual business card go in the mailbox. Julie leaves the porch with only her keys in her hand and gets in the car. She doesn’t know what she’s gonna do or where she’s gonna go next, but she knows that what’s done is done. That’s a chapter of her life closed. It’s time to move onto the next one.