6 Seconds of Life

by Tonya F Fitzharris

  This is it. I still have a chance.

  He’s standing in my doorway by the time I finally manage to catch up, scrolling through his phone while he waits for me to dig out my keys and let him in.

  He still won’t make eye contact with me. He hasn’t all night.

  Say something, Maura. Fix this.

  “I want this break to be over,” I whisper as if actually expressing my innermost desires to him would send him running forever. We’re both standing in the doorway, the wet moon as our only source of light. He keeps his eyes focused on his phone and I feel the tears coming. I just can’t help it.

  Why won’t he talk to me?

  Why does he seem to fucking hate me?

  “What?” he growls. He flops his body down on to my bed and drops his tired head into his palms. He’s so exhausted. I guess I am too.

  But I can’t give up yet. I won’t.

  I sit down on the bed next to him and reach for his hand. He lets me hold it. I haven’t held his hand in almost a month. For just a moment, everything I love about Owen and I as a couple returns, playing like a movie in my head. Our first dates. First kisses. First moments when we fell helplessly in love. There has to be a way to write a sequel to our story. It can’t end this way.

  “This relationship break that you insisted that we needed. Can it please be over?” I mutter into my chest. My enlarged, panicky heart gags me as I wait. Wait for him to say ‘of course, I miss you Maura. I think we can make this work.’ But he’s not saying anything. Just staring at the layer of dust on my dresser and pushing his thumbs into the palms of his hands. I can’t do anything but watch his eyes dart.

  “I miss you. I miss us. I really had fun with you tonight. It was just like to old days, back in high school. In the beginning,” I cry out.

  SAY SOMETHING OWEN.

  “Please, I love you. I love you so much.”

  “No, Maura,” he snaps, pushing his voice through his restrained teeth. His fists tighten, fingernails biting into the palms.

  This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked him to come up here. I shouldn’t have called him and begged for him to hang out with me. After the drunken emotional blow-up we had last weekend outside of my dorm, I should have known to just give him his space. But I didn’t. I’m an asshole like that. And now he’s so fucking livid that I just know the outcome of this situation already.

  But that still doesn’t stop me.

  “Why, Owen? Why are you doing this?” I whimper. My voice sounds panicky and jumpy, like a terrified little girl in a campy horror film. I pull on the pocket of my damp jeans, threatening to rip it away from the rest of the fabric.

  “Because the reason we took a break is to try and fix the things that are wrong with us. And nothing seems to be getting fixed.”

  “Well we need to try harder! We can do it, Owen. I know we can. We’re a strong couple.”

  “No, we’re not Maura,” he says with almost a hint of laughter in his voice. Apparently the idea of he and I being in a solid relationship is just a joke to him now. “There’s nothing strong about you and I. We make a terrible couple. I think we both realize that.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say as I pull my legs into my body and fall back on the opposite side of my bed. I can’t look at his face right now. I can’t smell is pinecone-y cologne. I can’t see his shiny blue eyes.

  I can’t do this.

  My stomach wretches with hunger—when was the last time I ate? My legs are too jittery. I need a shot. Vodka. Tequila. I don’t give a fuck—just something to make me stop feeling.

  “Maura, please sit up and talk to me like an adult. I don’t want to play games with you right now.”

  “Just lay down and hold me, please,” I whisper into the air. “I just need you to hold me right now. We don’t have to do anything else.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I should get going.”

  “Owen please no!” I cry out. I’m sobbing now. Disgusting, snot-filled sobs. I peek up at him through my watery eyes and grab at his arm, urging him to just sit back down and be with me. “I don’t understand, Owen. I don’t understand any of this. Why won’t you just be with me?”

  “What have I not explained to you? You incessantly accuse me of cheating, you refuse to talk about any problems that I try to bring up, and you never let me have a split second of freedom,” he says, his voice forceful and menacing. I just know that my neighbors can hear him now. “And if I do manage to sneak out for a night with my fraternity brothers, you’re ringing my phone every five fucking minutes.”

  My head feels like an over-used punching bag. My legs have a mind of their own, bouncing like they’re about to fly off of my body. I feel myself blowing out a series of short breaths to try and gain some control, but I’m failing. I jab my fingertips into my kneecap. I can’t. Sit. Still. I feel like I’m going to fucking EXPLODE.

  “Well you never listen to anything I have to say!” I scream, letting out an animalistic growl that terrifies me. I hear two guys that are walking past my room jump back and giggle. One of them mutters ‘whoa, someone’s in trouble!’

  “What do I not listen to, Maura? I try so damn much. You don’t tell me anything. I used to know everything about you. Now I know nothing.”

  I open my mouth to fight back but he cuts me off. Bastard.

  “I’m a very social creature. I need to be able to engage with my peers. I can’t spend every night alone with you holed up in one of our dorm rooms because you’re scared to death to let me go out and do anything without you. I’m sorry, but it’s just not who I am.”

  By engaging with your peers you mean going out and getting completely obliterated! I want to scream. Why is it that you care more about going out and partying than you do about spending time with me? What the fuck am I supposed to do?

  My chest heaves in pain and I’m hobbled by dread. It feels like a famished tiger is about to burst through the bushes and eat me alive. And I don’t know how to stop it.

  1,2,3,4.

  This tiger is going to consume me.

  I hear Owen jingle his keys in his pocket, pulling them out and gripping them in his quaking fist. We only have a few moments left, and I don’t know what else to do. I fucking hate myself. I have become the ultimate nightmare girlfriend. I saw it coming from miles away. I consciously knew what I was doing. So why didn’t I try to stop it? Why can’t I ever seem to control any of my own actions?

  “Everything is just so serious all of a sudden. I can’t take all of this pressure you’re putting on me,” he says, his voice finally returning to its normal octave.

  He’s done now. I can tell right away. He’s ready to leave.

  To give up. For good.

  I can’t do this right now. I have to figure out a way to save this relationship. I just can’t lose him. The thought of living my life without him is just too terrifying to even contemplate. I’ve been slipping into the darkness deep inside my head little by little since coming to college, and he’s the only thing that’s been able to prevent me from totally disappearing—even with all of the fighting. I haven’t been able to tell him just how dark it’s gotten, because that’s not why Owen fell in love with me. He wants a cool, lighthearted girl.

  The girl I pretended to be when I met him.

  I don’t know what to do.

  But I do know that if he actually leaves me tonight, I may just slip back into that darkness forever.

  “Do…do you still love me?” I squeak, doing my damndest to cover the scream that’s clawing in my throat. I feel every inch of skin on my body flush into a heat rash as I squeeze my eyes shut and count to myself, hoping to subside the dizziness.

  1, 2, 3, 4. 1,2, 3, 4.

  “I will always love you Maura. You’re a dear friend and you always will be. But I just don’t know right now. This relationship is just too difficult. I don’t know how to make you happy anymore. I’m not sure I even know WHO you are anymore,” he says, his answer swift—almost as if
he’s been rehearsing it in his mind, preparing for this very moment. I close my eyes and try my damndest to transport myself to a happy memory from our past, a moment when I knew that we would be together forever. But I hear his feet shuffle and his hand turn the doorknob.

  “Don’t go, Owen! Please!”

  He steps out into the dim hallway.

  “You make me happy! I promise! I can learn how to show it more. Just give me a chance!”

  But he turns his back and starts to pull the door closed behind him. “I’m leaving to go home for a few days after class tomorrow. Clear my head.”

  “Oh. Okay. I would have gone with you…if you would have just asked.”

  The rain has returned and is pounding against the windows. I desperately want to throw it open and escape this suffocating shoebox of a dorm room. Owen’s resentment towards me is sucking the air out of it. But I can’t manage to jiggle it open.

  I need air.

  “It’s for my father’s wedding.”

  “Oh. So who are you taking with you?” I ask, hating myself for even wanting to know.

  “What?”

  “To the wedding.”

  Please don’t answer.

  “Alex.”

  Everything in the world falls silent now. I can’t even hear the rain. I crane my neck and try to look out the window to see if it’s stopped or if I’ve just suddenly fallen deaf, but it’s too dark. All is see is my own battered reflection.

  “Alex? The same Alex that suggested to you last week that you and I need to spend some ‘time apart?’ Isn’t that convenient,” I feel myself say.

  “And on that note, I’m out of here.”

  “I thought she and I were friends. When the hell did she decide to start hating me? Why can’t you just tell me what I did to her?” I blurt. Owen just shakes his head and narrows his eyes at me, searching for whatever it is inside of me that’s turned me into this intensely vicious person.

  I hope he can find it. I sure as hell can’t.

  “When she saw her best friend miserable because of his inconsistent, crazy-ass girlfriend. Good bye,” he snaps back, pushing all emotion out of his voice.

  SAY.

  SOMETHING.

  “Owen! I’m not going to wait around forever for you to make up your mind about what you want.”

  “I realize that. Do what you need to do. I’m not going to stop you.”

  I’m numb. I don’t think there are any more tears left in my body. I’m a dried-up geyser. Only hot steam billows out. I just need to understand what the hell he is talking about. If I can just get him to take five minutes and explain it to me, I’ll be okay. I know I can be. I just need to know. Then I can fix it.

  “Owen, wait…” I cry, jumping up and clawing at his coat like a drowning victim desperate to be pulled ashore.

  “Good night, Maura.”

  And just like that, he’s gone.

  Gone.

  And I’m alone again.

  So alone that it aches.

  And I’m probably going to be alone forever.

  00:00:03.007

  The biggest mistake of my life

  I can’t do this.

  I need him.

  I need him.

  I clutch my phone. It immediately goes to voicemail. I dial again. And again. He’s turned his phone off now, and I’m officially the crazy ex-girlfriend.

  I steady my trembling hand and tear a sheet of paper out of the notebook resting on my lap. I know I’ve been doing my best to restrain myself, but I just don’t know what else to do right now. I don’t know anyone else I could possibly turn to.

  Dear Samantha,

  I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you since I left for college…and I guess I should apologize for abandoning you with my crazy-ass parents. I thought I could do this alone, but I think I need you with me more that I ever realized.

  Some days I feel like I’m successful here, making friends with my new sorority sisters and feeling confident and somewhat intelligent in my classes. But then other days (to be honest, I should say most days) I feel judged. I feel inadequate. I feel crazy. I feel like an alien. I’m still not sure I belong here. I feel like a stranger trying to overtake someone else’s life. I feel like a fraud.

  But you never make me think any of these things. When I write to you, I can say whatever I want—good, bad, or completely bat-shit crazy.

  I can tell you my wishes, my goals, what I feel deep in my heart, and what’s eating away at my brain. It always makes me feel better. Like maybe I actually can make it through another day of my exhausting life.

  I miss you so much.

  I can’t write anymore—it just hurts too much. I take a moment to collect my thoughts and a few deep breaths before I open the door to the sorority house. It’s already 1:45 and lunch is only served until 2:00, so I’m hoping that the dining room will be next to empty. I may be feeling brave enough to venture inside while I’m in this catatonic state, but I’m not ready to start answering a plethora of questions about what has been happening with Owen.

  I’m so relieved to see that there are only two other sisters that have decided to eat as late as me, and they’re both older girls who I’ve never met. Most of the seniors don’t even bother to get to know us new girls. I guess it’s because they’re too focused on getting out of here and preparing for the ‘real world.’ They’re such an elusive group—I feel like seeing these two sitting it the table is like spotting two snow leopards. I treat them as such—I avoid making eye contact and play invisible. Hopefully this will prevent them from pouncing on me. Besides bringing the volume of their conversation down to a hardly audible hush, they don’t seem to care about my presence in the least bit.

  Perfect.

  I get a grilled chicken salad and sit at table by myself. After a few bites, I decide that it’s really awkward to eat alone and that if anyone sees me I will look even more like the awkward, unstable girl that I really am, so I pull a novel that I’m supposed to be reading for my Women’s Literature class out of my bag and start flipping through it. I have no clue how far the class has gotten since I last attended. I don’t even know exactly when that was—at least a week, maybe. Honestly, I just haven’t given two shits about listening to endless analysis about Jane Eyre—also known as the most boring god damn novel to ever be created. I feel myself being pushed into an anxiety attack out of sheer dullness as I sit in her wretched class and watch her dried-up lips move and form words that I don’t care to hear. I bet I could stump all of the therapists in the world when I go in and tell them about my newest anxiety trigger—classic feminist literature.

  God, I fucking hate school now.

  When did that happen?

  I spend five minutes absentmindedly re-reading the same paragraph when I hear Darby’s cacophonous laughter coming up the hallway. I quickly try to think of an escape route, but unfortunately the hallway is the only way out of here. I’m trapped between a pack of snow leopards and a hyena.

  “Little sister! There you are! I haven’t seen you all week!”

  She throws her arms around me and gives a bear hug. She’s donning a low cut tank top in an inappropriate shade of pink that’s a little too much for the daylight hours. There are literally flecks of glitter left clinging to my shirt as she peels herself away. And her jeans are so low that I can practically see her entire pair of panties. I’m guessing this is the same outfit she was wearing last night.

  “Yeah, I know, I’ve been laying low,” I whisper. I look around at the other girls eating—they don’t even acknowledge Darby’s presence either. “Sorry, things have just been…difficult. I’m really sorry I didn’t return any of your calls.”

  She’s been reaching out to me all week—ever since she came over to my dorm to surprise me with a basket full of Theta Beta goodies and walked in on an explosive fight between Owen and I. I’ve repaid her kindness by doing everything in my power to completely avoid her and keep myself holed up in my dorm room like a psych
otic recluse. Such a great little sister, I am.

  “No, I totally understand. I’ve just been worried about you since your whole situation with your boyfriend. Did you work it out?”

  “No, not really. I…”

  I can’t say anymore. I can’t find a single word in the English language that can describe what Owen and I are right now. What I feel for him.

  “Well, pardon me for not being more sympathetic, but I’m pretty damn excited that you are now single. This is awesome!” She grabs my hand and a mischievous smile spreads across her face. “That kid seemed like a pretty big a-hole anyways. Especially to screw over a gorgeous girl like you. You need a real man.” She shrieks and throws her hands in the air, doing some kind of nonsensical victory dance. The smell of fermented alcohol wafts off of her as she moves, obviously still under the influence of last night’s debauchery. I guess she has ultimately won. This is what she’s wanted since day one—me, single. She was never a fan of

  Owen and made no attempt to hide it.

  As she gushes on about the social that she is going to bring me to tonight, my mind becomes a fog. It’s all too excruciatingly real now.

  Owen and I are done.

  ****

  I’m clunking down Michigan Avenue in a pair of horrendous high heels that Darby insisted I wear. I swear, these things must be made out of wood; they’re so extraordinarily uncomfortable, I feel like my feet are gushing blood with each step. This is exactly why I refuse to wear anything but sneakers—no one should voluntarily put themselves through this much pain during the simplest task of taking a step. Being two inches higher off the ground is in no way worth it to me.

  Apparently the theme of tonight’s fraternity social is ‘ABC,’ which I was told translates to ‘Anything But Clothes.’ I let Darby concoct an outfit out of trash bags and aluminum foil for me, and it turned out—dare I say—shockingly well. I may even throw the word ‘sexy’ in there. I’ve never seen so much of my leg showing at one time—at least not out in public. I try to wrap my arms around my bare stomach as cars whizz by, but Darby won’t allow it, grabbing my hand and swinging it back and forth as she drunkenly skips next to me. She and the three other sisters that are coming with us went shot for shot in a rather raunchy rendition of ‘never have I ever’ while they primped me. So now, of course, they are exceptionally intoxicated.