by T. K. Rapp
“So that’s it? Just like that, you’re done. Are you saying that you don’t love me anymore? That you made a mistake?”
“No, that’s not it at all. I do love you. Hell, if I didn’t, this wouldn’t hurt so much. But this, between us, isn’t right. You’re keeping things from me; I’m keeping things from you. This isn’t what a relationship, let alone a marriage, is supposed to be. Can you honestly tell me that you’re happy?”
“At this moment? No. But you make me happy Ryan. I love you and I did what you asked, I thought about it. And the only thing I keep coming back to is that I love you so damn much and we are supposed to be together. Yet here you are breaking my heart.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“But you are hurting me. You’re walking away. You’re quitting!”
That’s what it is, he’s quitting.
“I’m trying to do right by both of us,” he argues, but I don’t want to hear it. He’s not doing this for us; he’s doing it for him.
“Is there more to this? Did you already know that you wanted out when I was there this weekend?”
“What?” he gasps, trying to figure out what I’m accusing him of. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Alex, Ryan,” I yell. “Is there more to this than you’re admitting. I mean, clearly she wants you and I know you’ve gone out with her. You can try to play dumb all you want, but let’s at least be honest. Do you want to know the truth about Trey? Truth is, he’s my friend. He told me he has feelings for me, but you know what I told him? I told him that I love you and that you are my future. I just had no idea that I wasn’t yours.”
“Em-”
“No, you know what, thank you. Thank you for sparing me the pain that my mom went through and leaving before I give everything to you and you bail anyway.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I hear the pain in his tone.
“Yes, Ryan,” I bite out. “I do. My dad didn’t love my mom or us enough, and he walked away, and look at the mess she is now. I don’t want that for myself, so if you don’t want me, I’m not going to beg you.”
As if on instinct, my hand flies to cover my mouth and quiet my cry. Tears stream down my face because I know I am saying hateful things to Ryan. He’s not like my dad, even through my agony and anger, I know that, but he knows how much I hate the man. I know he’s drawing on the comparison and I hope it rips him apart like he is doing to me.
This is not how I thought this conversation would go. I thought Ryan felt for me what I felt for him.
“Em,” he moans and his voice cracks. The tears never stop falling from my eyes. “You’re trying to hurt me, and it’s working. But you’re going to see that I’m right. Maybe you won’t hate me as much, maybe you will. But I’m letting you go, and I’ll probably regret it for the rest of my life. You deserve more than someone who makes decisions without considering you. And I deserve more than someone who compares me to the dad I know she hates. You don’t want me, Em. You want the idea of me.”
“You don’t know what I want, because you’ve never asked. You didn’t give me a chance, because apparently you think you know what’s best. I was planning to quit my job to be with you out there, because I wanted you, more than I wanted my career.”
“Em-”
“Goodbye, Ryan.”
I hang up the phone and drop to my bed in agony. He couldn’t be more wrong about what I want, because since the moment I saw him, it’s always only been him. Looking around this apartment, this home that Ryan and I created, I don’t feel like I belong here. I swipe my hands under my eyes and gather myself up because I’m not going to be that girl. He made his choice and I have to live with it.
Who am I kidding? I can’t turn it off like that, and I begin crying for my aching soul that feels empty, in a way I have never known.
CHAPTER 20
I have laid here, alone in my bed, every night for the last two weeks, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Every morning, I come up empty. Was the writing on the wall all along and I just missed it, or worse, did I ignore it?
It's been twelve days since Ryan and I ended things, not that I’m counting, and the silence haunts my thoughts. This was a loneliness I wasn’t prepared for. Langley has called every day to check on me, and every day, I tell her the same thing; I’ll be fine. My mom has been no help, acting as if I should have seen it coming, but I’m not like her. I don’t expect the worst.
“Em,” Joss calls from the other side of my door. “Lemme in.”
This has been the routine since the breakup. She comes by, and I ignore her. I go to work and do my job, but as soon as the day ends, I turn into a hermit. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want Joss to jump on my bandwagon, and if I have to see Cam look at me one more time with pity in her eyes, I might scream. I mean, honest to God, scream.
“I’m fine, Joss,” I yell from the couch.
“Great, then let me in. We can talk or not talk, I don’t care, I just want to see you,” she says with no emotion in her voice. I’m not sure if she’s talked to Langley, but knowing them, they’ve talked every day to figure out how to get me out of my mood.
I finally get up and unlock the door, but stop short of opening the door and let her open it herself. When she walks through, she gives me one of her stares, daring me to be a bitch. With a shake of my head, I turn away and wait for her to join me on the couch. The silence is annoying because she’s waiting for me to say something about how I’m feeling, and I don’t care to share that right now. I focus my attention on the television and turn up the volume to feign interest in whatever this show is.
There are two things about Joss I can count on; she hates the silence and will do whatever it takes to fill it and she likes to fix things, I’m about to become her pet project. The thing is, I don’t need fixing, I just need time.
“You hungry?” she asks during a commercial and I shrug. Truth be told, I could probably eat because I haven’t really taken care of myself lately. It’s not that I don’t want to eat; I have no appetite. “I’m ordering pizza and then you’re gonna snap out of this, okay?”
What the fuck? Did she really just say that shit to me? I have to blink from the shock of her words as though she physically struck me. Yes, Joss is rough around the edges, but she’s never spoken to me harshly unless I’m drunk. Her statement echoes in my ears and cuts a little deeper every time I hear it.
I finally look at her, my mouth agape. “This just happened, Joss,” I remind her when she looks at me. “I’m allowed to be down about it, aren’t I? A three-year relationship, a year engagement, the love of my life, gone. So excuse me if I can’t just snap out of it.”
“Good, so you are dealing with it then,” she responds with a straight face, but I know she’s happy she got me to admit what I’m thinking.
“Of course I am, I mean, what other choice do I have,” I say in disbelief that she’s being so hard on me. “It’s over.”
“So do you want to tell me what happened?”
I reveal the snippet of what I’ve been thinking about over and over. “Things between us were easy for so long, and I thought it would always be like that. It took years to build a good relationship, to get it just right. I mean, I’m not saying it was perfect, you know that. Hell we still fought and did stupid shit, but when those things don’t break you, you know there’s something special there. At least I thought it was special. I guess I’m just shocked at how quickly it all crumbled.”
What I don’t share is that all it takes is a little white lie, and it just starts to unravel. We both screwed up, I know that, but I didn’t know it was beyond repair. I’m now left with the small apartment that feels too big, and memories of us everywhere I look.
“Have you talked to him at all?”
“He’s called, but I have no reason answer; we said everything we needed to say,” I shrug, trying to be interested in the television show.
“What are y
ou gonna do now?”
“Not sure,” I sigh and glance over at her, “I have work to keep me busy. Trey’s client event is in a month, so it’s crunch time now.”
“Trey, huh?” Her question holds so many others that she’s not voicing.
“Don’t start, Joss.” My hand flies up to stop her from pushing that any further. “It’s work, and that’s all. I’ve barely talked to him.”
She acknowledges my words with a nod, but I know she still isn’t convinced.
“But I’ll tell you one thing; I can’t stay here anymore,” I state, looking around the living room.
“You can always come move in with me for a while, if you need to,” she offers, as if it’s not a big deal. What she doesn’t realize is that it is exactly what I need. I have to get out of this place; I can’t heal here, because I feel him everywhere. Work is a great distraction, but when I come back here, it’s a graveyard for my failed relationship. “Just think about it, the offer’s out there.”
When I finally gather my nerve to look at her face, she smiles in understanding and reaches over to squeeze my hand. That simple gesture is my undoing, and the tears I have kept at bay since I stopped crying that night spill out again. She scoots over and gathers me into her arms while I mourn what I’ve lost, and I allow her to console me.
“It’s really over, isn’t it?” I ask, my sobs constricting my words.
“I can’t answer that for you. What I can tell you is that you and Ryan were good together, but y’all let life and careers derail your path. And I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, Em,” She waits for me to look at her and she grabs my left hand and points to my ring. “But as long as you keep this on, the mind-fuck that is this breakup will keep messing with you.”
* * *
Moving out of the space I shared with Ryan for the last nine months causes so much pain. And moving in with Joss is certainly not ideal. Hell, we barely survived as roommates in college; but this time is different. She’s helping me escape the memories this place holds and giving me what I need to move on. When she left my apartment that night, we had come up with a plan for me to move in with her when my lease was up. But she came to me a couple of days later and asked if I’d be willing to move in next week, because she found someone to sublet my place.
I have thought about Ryan so much, but unfortunately I have work, and now boxing up our place, to occupy my time. The nights are still sad, especially when I’m packing his things away to ship to him. Most of his clothes went with him to San Diego, but things like the guitar he never played, t-shirts he never wore, and his shot glass collection are still here.
I grab another box and scrawl his name along the side of it and begin loading it with his stuff. The t-shirts were already pulled out of the dresser, so I grab the first stack and place them in the bottom, not caring if they unfold. It’s when I reach for the second stack that my favorite shirt of his comes to view. It’s a soft worn-out shirt, the graphics barely readable, but what I love about this shirt is that he was wearing it the night we met. Against my better judgment, I pull the t-shirt over my head, covering the tank I’m wearing.
“No,” I say aloud, yanking it back off, “you’re not gonna do this.” I ball the shirt up and toss it into the box with the others before getting up to get more of his things. Over the next hour, the box slowly fills with pictures, books, cups, and anything else that reminds me of Ryan. When it’s all said and done, most of our relationship, or the parts I don’t want, fit neatly into a large moving box.
Looking around the apartment, the only things that remain to be boxed are mine. Clothes, dishes, and albums were boxed days ago, and all that’s left are trinkets and frames. The box I packed for him sits open and before taping it shut, I drag the t-shirt back out. I’m not ready to let it go just yet.
“Just do it,” I tell myself as I grab my phone. I haven’t talked to him or texted since the night we broke up, but it’s time. I find his name in my phone to send him a text.
Me: Just wanted to let you know I subleased the apt. I’m moving.
Ryan: I’ve been calling you
I ignore his comment because I need to stay on track, and this isn’t meant to be a conversation.
Me: You still have things here. I boxed them up. I’ll send it out to you
Ryan: It’s okay. I’ll be out there for a meeting.
Me: I’ll leave the box with Joss
I push send and exhale as I throw myself onto the couch. The hard part is over, right?
There doesn’t seem to be a need to tell him that I will be living with Joss, although I’m sure he’ll figure it out soon enough. He’s called several times over the last two weeks. I deleted the voicemails, because I didn’t think my heart could take it. I have a nice callous over it now that’s hardening, and until it’s unbreakable, I can’t listen to his voice.
Ryan: Can I see you?
Toying with the idea of seeing him doesn’t send warm and fuzzy feelings through my body. In fact, the only thing I feel is nauseous. I don’t know if it’s because I want to see him or I dread the moment when I have to. Needless to say, I have no plans to respond to his text.
“Em,” Joss’ voice filters through the door as she knocks. I let her in and stand next to her as she assesses the mounds of crap I’ve boxed, and the plethora of crap that still remains. “So, I see you’ve made some progress,” she teases.
I point to the box. “I really have. And I let him know it’ll be at your place when he comes to pick it up.”
“Are you going to see him?”
“No. He asked, but it’s too soon,” I admit, knowing she understands.
She walks over to his box and riffles through some of the items. She pulls out a coffee mug that has our picture on it. Joss gave it to us a gag gift last year and it’s been my favorite one to drink from. She raises a questioning brow and I answer with a shrug. She places the mug back into the box and spots the t-shirt that I pulled out.
“No, that’s mine. He can’t have it back,” I say, grabbing the shirt possessively.
She scoffs and shakes her head, grinning like she knows something I don’t. “None of my business.”
I’m thankful she lets it go and sticks around to help me finish boxing everything up; it makes the task a little less sad. Looking at the apartment, boxes taped up and marked by room, it’s hard to imagine that this was once a home. We hired a small moving company to load and deliver everything to her place tomorrow. All I have left to do is turn the keys over to the new tenant. She wraps her arm around my shoulder, knowing how hard this is for me, and gives me a squeeze.
“I’ll meet you at home,” she whispers before leaving me alone.
Our bedroom calls to me, and I give in, needing to say one last goodbye to what we were. Standing in the doorway, I see the ghosts of us laughing, fighting and making love, causing my body to react. A single tear rolls down my cheek, which I am quick to wipe away. My keys and purse are sitting on the top of a box near the door, so I pick them up and open the door one last time and shut off the lights.
“Always,” I whisper my response to our imaginary I love you.
CHAPTER 21
Joss has to be the best friend a girl can have, or at the very least, I’m grateful that she’s mine. The movers dropped everything off at her, our, place by two o’clock, and we worked until dark to get it all put away. She had been using her second bedroom as an office space, but moved her desk into her room. I was touched by her kindness, but then again, that’s how she’s always been. It’s strange how the entire contents of a life, or relationship, can fit into one small twelve by twelve room, yet somehow we did just that.
Last night, I was able to hang out with Joss without unpacking or moping. I was terribly hungry and I hadn’t been eating since the breakup. So we ordered six different entrees from the Chinese takeout menu. We opened them all up and I devoured what amounted to two all on my own. She laughed, happy that I finally got my appetite ba
ck.
“Hell, no wedding dress to squeeze into, no boyfriend.” I looked at the table covered in food. “This will be my new life. I will eat everything in sight.”
When I went to bed, full and tired, I slept more sound than I had in a while. I was dreaming of Ryan and beaches that turned into Chinese takeout that was chasing me. I kept trying to get back to the good part of my dream when I sat upright and bolted to the toilet, vomiting every last bit of Chinese food I had inhaled. I threw up two more times before I was finally able to get to bed.
“Good morning sunshine,” Joss coos over her shoulder from the kitchen. She does a double take. “You look terrible.”
“You’re such a charmer,” I say with a glare.
“What? Did you cry yourself to sleep? Your eyes are puffy,” she says as she walks over to get a better look at me.
“I think I got food poisoning last night.”
“We ate the same thing, and I’m fine. Maybe you’re pregnant,” she says before walking away.
“Don’t even joke about that,” I warn her. “Besides, you didn’t eat the sesame chicken because you said it’s too sweet.”
She wrinkles her nose and thinks about it. “Do you really think you got food poisoning?”
“It’s more plausible than me being pregnant,” I bite at her.
“Are you sure, because you’re kinda bitchy right now? Is it that time of month?”
I roll my eyes and turn back to my bedroom. “Fuck me! I’m moving out!”
Joss’ laughter behind me causes me to laugh in return as I shut the door to get ready for work. I’m not sure how she does it, but she’s amazing at getting me out of my funk. I have dreaded going in to work today, mainly because I have less than two weeks before Trey’s dinner party. There are still details to take care of, so I’ll have to get those done this week.
I retrieve my favorite black skinny jeans and pair them with a vintage concert tee that I bought a while back. I haven’t worn it yet, because I’ve been meeting with so many people. But there is nothing on the docket today, so this is perfect. I put my dark grey suede blazer on and spruce up the outfit with a few pieces of costume jewelry. When I check my reflection in the mirror, I realize that I look better than I have in a while.