Here’s a creative story between a boyfriend and a girlfriend.
“Yeah, you would like that, wouldn’t you?!” I yell as I turn on my heel and storm out the door.
“Al, I…Jesus Christ!,” he screams after me, his hand outstretched towards the space between us. It’s his pathetic attempt to bring me back to him. I’m not falling for this anymore. In one swift movement, I slammed the door fast behind me. Even though it was a violent, it was fluid. It seemed so natural. CLUNK! the door goes behind me as it slams shut. I walk towards the parking lot to my grey Ford Focus, my head swimming with a million and one thoughts. My keys are in my hand, attached to the hot pink, Vermont lanyard. They jangle. Hell, even they seem angry. I hear the door close behind me and his noisy footsteps close the angry space between us.
“Al, will you please tell me what the hell is going on?” he asks me, his voice laced with a mixture of worry and curiosity.
“Nothing,” I say, completely void of emotion. I say it mechanically, like it was planned. And even though this fight was never planned in the first place, nothing is always my go-to phrase. That one syllable word was probably the best word that could possibly describe my mood.
I said nothing because that’s what I really hoped was wrong. Nothing.
I push myself towards the car, closing the space between my escape and myself. It’s my way out of here. And let me fucking tell you, there’s nothing that I could have wanted more in that moment in time.
“Alyson, I need to know what the hell is wrong,” he tells me, almost hissing the words out of his mouth. I bring myself to look at his face. He looks dazed and confused, in a haze of sorts. And even though he looks completely devastated, I won’t break down.
“None of your fucking business,” I say matter-of-factly, grabbing the plastic door handle of my car. He reaches out to grab my boney wrist. I close my eyes and try not to totally overreact.
“Get away from me,” I say with my eyes closed. I focus on my breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, I remind myself as I slowly open up my eyes again.
“Just tell me what’s wrong,” he asks me, his voice getting softer and more inviting. I continue to breathe deeply and slowly. In. Out.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just being immature,” I say, turning to face him. “Again.”
“Alyson, please don’t be this way. I can’t take this,” I says, his voice breaking.
“Stop being this way?,” I say, feeling my face getting redder by the second. “Stop being this way?!” I repeat, my voice getting louder and louder in the public parking lot. By now I’m infuriated. I have to tell him, I eventually convince myself.
“What’s wrong is that you’re totally dishonest to me. You talk to people behind my back when you claim you want to talk about problems we have with only each other. You ever heard of the word hypocrite, Tyler? Because you sure as hell fit the bill as one,” I say, my voice laced with anger.
He winces as I say the word. I take that as inspiration to go further.
“You talk to this girl and tell her that she’s gorgeous? How many people do you really say that to, huh?” I continue, becoming more comfortable and in tune with my emotions. “You said that to me once, I say. But now, I really do doubt that you stood behind one hundred percent of that statement.”
Tears begin to gather around his eyes. Have you ever seen a grown man cry? It’s something special, it really is.
“Doubt is like a terminal disease, Tyler,” I continue to say. “It doesn’t go away, no matter what treatment I use. It’s totally and completely rooted. I can’t take it out or forget about it.” I point to the left side of my head with my index finger. “It’s right here.”
He turns his head to look away from me. I know he doesn’t want me to see him cry. To men, I guess it’s a sign of weakness. But what the hell do I know?
Photo courtesy of ACS.
He cries silently. I almost want to reach out to him. Sometimes basic human contact can do wonders. But before I offer my outstretched hand, I remember that he was the one that hurt me. No, I reassure myself. He did this to me. He deserves this.
Fuck I tell myself, closing my eyes in an attempt to block out everything but the thoughts in my head, he had this coming.