Breakup

Cassie Larreta

He was angry. 
She was furious.
She had the right to be; getting yelled at for having dinner with a friend on her last night in town.  They would still hang out, why was he so mad? She said, “Sometime after work we can hang out, I get off at six.”  It’s not like she meant directly at six.  She didn’t apologize.  She yelled back.  He didn’t call her to tell her he couldn’t hang out today. 
She screamed. 
She yelled. 
She cussed. 
She meant almost every word of it.  Then it hit her.
She wasn’t happy anymore.
            She loved him, but had fallen out of love.  It was hard.  She wanted with all her might to be set free, she felt like a caged animal.  She made a pro and con list.  Shit.  The cons out weighed the pros.  What to do now.  She’d never forgive herself for letting him go.  She had wanted to marry him; the idea lingered but was gone.
Pro: he was caring and compassionate…
Con: when he wanted to be
Pro: he was a good person…
Con: when not accusing her of anything and everything
Con: he always wanted her to please him and rarely pleased her
Con: if she didn’t call on all three of her work breaks she was accused of flirting with boys
Con: he was the most paranoid person she knew and extremely needy
Pro: he loved her
Five cons…three pros
            There are more.  She just doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

He was online.
No, not him.  The boy she’s wanted since high school, Paxton.  Their past was rocky; he liked her when she didn’t like him, she wanted him when he didn’t want her.  Just once, they were on the same page.  Neither of them did a thing, they gave up.  Stupid.  They talked online that night for hours.  She still wanted him, but did he want her?

We always talk about this online, he said.  It was decided.  They would talk in person, tomorrow.

Her mind, frazzled. 
She spoke with her friend, Jessica.  Jessica agreed that it appeared she hadn’t been happy for months.  There was only one thing to do.  Oh god, she didn’t want to.  To take a break?  It seemed like such an ending.  She didn’t want to end it, she still loved him.  But she didn’t think she was happy anymore.

He came over.

It was all so awkward, he lay stiffly on the bed next to her.  She could feel the words waiting to roll off her tongue, she resisted.  Did she really want this?
They burned a hole inside her mouth,
She couldn’t take the pain anymore.
The words came spewing out like hot vomit,
Choking her.
With every word she said,
The more intense the burn.
Their eyes slowly traveled upward as she finished. 
Her eyes met his, with every second that passed his beautiful eyes of ocean blue shifted to red as if blood was filling the ocean. 
She had made the ocean overflow.
He was crying.
            She had just broken his heart.  Now he was breaking hers.
This was all her fault, but she hadn’t meant for anything to happen.  She told him the truth because it was eating her up; well almost the whole truth.

Her version, for him:
Paxton saw her in the parking lot.
She was called over to talk.
They hadn’t talked to each other in awhile.
Out of nowhere, he kissed her.
She pulled back and left.

The real version:
Paxton saw her in the parking lot.
She was called over to talk.
They talked last night.
They had become friends with benefits.
They went to his car.
He kissed her.
She didn’t stop him.
Nor did she enjoy it.
She said, “see ya,” and left

She couldn’t tell him that much, he would die.  And so would she. 

It had been three days since he last spoke to her.
To break up or not to break up…that is the question.

They were sitting so uneasily on the couch.  She was holding back, if she said anything it would come out defensively.  She didn’t want to add anymore to the ordeal.
He spoke.
There lay a half hour between every heart breaking word that fell from his lips.

Would he end their eighteen month relationship over one stupid mistake?
            She sighed with relief.
He wouldn’t end it.
            He couldn’t, he said.

Their love was to strong.  Thank God.  The weeks following were rocky.  She had to hold back the frustration he created in her when he questioned her.  She knew she’d have to live with it.  It was, after all, her fault the paranoia was at its worst. 

            It had been a week, he still wouldn’t kiss her.  He’d kiss her once right before he returned home.  Anytime she asked, or attempted to kiss him…he’d turn away, ignoring her cries for much needed passion.
Damn her.  Damn.  Damn.
She hated herself more then ever now.