by Stella
I could only sit there, unable to take my eyes off her face while her painful admission clawed its way into my soul. My first instinct was to reassure her of the truth, to alleviate as much of that pain as I could. Yet my mouth wouldn’t move. My heart took up residence in my throat and prevented the words from forming. Instead, I waited. I waited for her to finish, because I knew that wasn’t all she had to say—just like I knew it wasn’t the worst of it.
After taking a moment to compose herself, she cleared the emotion from her throat and continued. “You say we both lost sight of what was important, but that’s where you’re wrong. I never lost sight of it—you did. And now you want me to take half the blame. Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but that’s not going to happen. The plan was: walk the stage, get our degrees, and then find a place where we could start our future together. But you changed those plans by moving across the country.”
“You told me to,” I argued before she could say anything else.
“Yes, I did. Because I never wanted to hold you back. I don’t regret encouraging you to follow your dreams, because had I not done that, you would’ve stayed. Then you would’ve spent however long wondering what opportunities you might’ve had if you’d gone, and in the end, you would’ve hated me for keeping you from that. So yes, I’m the one who pushed you to go. But that doesn’t negate the fact that our plans were changed because of you.”
“So you made me go so I wouldn’t hate you in the end, yet because I left—and ultimately had to change our plans—you now hate me? How is that fair?” I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I was the only one fighting for the truth. To me, she’d long since given up.
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me,” I begged, fully facing her now with my torso leaning onto the console to get as close to her as I could. And still, she refused to even glance at me.
“It wasn’t just that first plan that went out the window. It was every single one after that. You were leaving, and when we talked about how that would affect us, we agreed that I’d stay here to build a name for myself in the marketing world while you spent two years furthering your education, and during that time, we’d make it work. Again, I stuck to it. I did my part. I focused on my career and did as much as I could with what we were given. But in less than a year, you were revising the plan once more.”
I wanted to say something, to cut her off and tell her how it really happened back then, but I had to stop myself. Just because I remembered the events differently didn’t make her version any less real to her. And that was what I had to focus on. I needed to hear what it was like through her eyes before I could fully understand the heartache that had driven us to this place.
“It may have seemed like such a small change, a minor tweak to what we’d talked about before you left Atlanta, but it was monumental for us—a ripple effect that proved to be catastrophic.”
I knew what she was about to say, because I knew what the next change was, but I had to let her get it out. Her pain was real. There was no doubt that she could close her eyes and relive that moment in time as if it were happening right now…because she’d more than likely never moved on from it, stuck inside of the memory like her own personal purgatory.
“You still planned to return after graduation while I continued to work my way up the ladder, but this time, we would no longer be a couple.” She slowed and then came to a stop in the heavy Atlanta traffic. With her elbow propped against the door panel and her fingers pressed into her temple as if holding up her head, she turned her steely, hardened gaze my way. “And why was that, Chris?”
“You know why. It was too difficult to keep up with our commitment to each other while I fulfilled my obligations at school and you fulfilled yours at work, all with a three-hour time difference between us.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep the bite out of my words. This was the first time I’d heard any of this. Had I known her feelings didn’t match mine, or that she hadn’t been on the same page I was back then, things would’ve been different. “We talked about it, and you agreed. Between the time difference, my studies, and the demands of your job, we were stretched too thin—not just me, but you, too. If you were opposed to any of it, why didn’t you say anything?”
“What right did I have, Chris?” It seemed she’d traded in her soft-spoken words for indignation. “Yes, being a gopher was tiring and demanding, but if I stayed up late talking to you and was too tired in the morning to make the best pot of coffee Miriam Pratt had ever tasted, or used a staple instead of a paperclip, I didn’t have to worry about being out thousands of dollars in tuition. You had far more on the line than I did. It would’ve been selfish of me to say no, to tell you I didn’t want to take a break, that I wanted to stick it out and make it work. What would’ve been the point in urging you to go to Washington to spend thirteen grand per semester just to turn around and risk you losing it all so I would feel more secure about us?”
One of the things I’d loved most about Lexi and our relationship, was that we both wanted to see the other thrive. We’d pushed each other to be better, to do better. If she struggled with an exam or a paper, I’d spend hours, sometimes all night, understanding the material just so I could help her with it. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a course I needed for my degree; it was one she needed for hers, and if I had to lose sleep to comprehend consumer behaviors just so she’d make an A rather than a B, then I did it. No questions asked. Because anytime the tables were turned, she’d done the same for me.
Lexi had taught herself statistical analysis all because she’d found a paper in my textbook. It had been marked up in red with a failing grade at the top, and she thought I needed help understanding it. She hadn’t asked me about it, hadn’t brought it up. Instead, she took it upon herself to understand what had been on the pre-test, and then spent two hours explaining it to me so I would pass the exam. I never told her that the paper had belonged to the guy who sat—or rather, slept—next to me, and somehow, I had ended up with it. I just allowed her to teach me what she’d learned while I studied every movement of her lips, every tic in her expression, memorized the way her pupils constricted when my hand would brush against hers, or how her breathing would accelerate, just the tiniest bit, when I’d lower my voice.
And then, when I’d handed her my graded exam, not one answer wrong, I grew lost in the faint coral color that had highlighted her cheeks with her impossibly wide grin, and the way her eyes had lit up with the most beautiful shade of teal, completely overtaking any hint of grey, like she was so full of pride she glowed.
We’d always wanted the best for each other, but with that, we’d always put the other first. So, to hear her now say she’d kept her thoughts and opinions and desires to herself because she didn’t feel they were justified, killed me. Gutted me. Nearly ruined me. I would’ve done anything to make it right. But I hadn’t been given a chance, because she’d chosen to put me and my dreams of a master’s degree from DIT over her own fear and pain.
Now…it was my turn to talk.
Thank God for traffic. Normally, I hated the creeping speed on Atlanta interstates, knowing it’d take three times as long to get anywhere, but it served me today. It kept her attention on me rather than the road, and even though she delivered anger and hurt instead of smiles and love, I had to be grateful. Because it could’ve very well been nothing at all.
I leaned closer and reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. Although, I didn’t let that stop me. I remained hunched over the console, inches away from her, and lowered my voice in the hopes she wouldn’t see this as an argument. Because it wasn’t. Her feelings were just that—her feelings—but it didn’t mean there wasn’t another side that needed to be heard.
“I never suggested we hit pause on our relationship because I wanted to get my dick wet. If I had to choose between someone else or nothing at all, I was perfectly happy with a pair of blue balls.”
“I didn’t say that was what I
believed, just the fear and insecurity that I was left with.” Her fight hadn’t died, although it waned.
“And I never wanted to change our plans,” I continued, pressing on with answering each of her concerns. “But as it went, our lives evolved, and we had to do what we felt was right to survive. At the time, we agreed to change things as we went to help make things better.”
“How did breaking up make anything better?”
“It didn’t.” I shook my head. “But back then, I didn’t have the time to devote to you, not the way you deserved. And that wasn’t fair to you. I assumed if we stayed together, you’d grow resentful with how little I could offer you, and eventually, you’d leave me. At the time, it made sense in my sleep-deprived brain that if we took a break on good terms, remained friends until I graduated, eliminated the pressure of regular calls, then you wouldn’t have a reason to be mad. We’d be on much better ground to pick up where we left off once I came back than if we didn’t do anything and just allowed our relationship to crash and burn. And also, it would keep you from feeling like you were dating my voicemail.”
Her eyes enlarged by a fraction of a degree, unnoticeably had I not been so close to her. And then her pupils constricted into tiny pinpricks the way they did when she quickly moved from a dark room into one with a bright light. I knew, without a doubt, she was thinking of the same memory I had taken with me for years.
“Oh, my boyfriend can speak. I haven’t heard your voice in so long, I almost forgot what it sounded like.” She may have giggled, but it didn’t do anything to lessen the pinch of the metaphorical blade that her words had driven straight into my heart.
“Yeah, I haven’t gotten home before ten thirty any night this week, and I knew you’d be asleep. I almost wasn’t sure I’d be able to call you tonight, but I didn’t want to lose my chance. We have a group project starting tomorrow, and from what I hear, it’s grueling. So I was scared that if I didn’t talk to you tonight, it’d be one more week before I would get another opportunity to have an actual conversation with you. Quick texts while I’m walking from one place to another just aren’t cutting it.”
“Tell me about it. Most of the time, I can’t understand what in the world you’re even trying to say. Between typos and auto-incorrect, I spend longer attempting to decode your message than it would’ve taken for you to stop walking and look at what you were spelling.”
This wasn’t the first comment she’d made about how my inability to multitask—walk and text at the same time—had made more work for her. I’d already slowed down how many texts I’d send just so she wouldn’t complain, but I guess the problem would only be corrected if I’d stop and take my time with the message. And with my crammed schedule, I couldn’t do that.
“You’re quiet.” Which scared the crap out of me. “Are you tired?” I asked.
“Nah, just not sure how to talk to you.”
“What do you mean? What do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing specific. I just feel like I’ve been dating your voicemail, so figuring out how to speak to someone who talks back takes a little adjusting to.” She was teasing, I knew it, but I had no doubt that at least part of her, maybe somewhere hidden in the back of her mind, meant it.
I held the ring box between my fingers and stared at it. I kept telling myself this would all be worth it in the end. I’d have my master’s, a position with almost any company I wanted, a salary unmatched by any other job I could’ve gotten with only my undergraduate degree, and Lexi. And she’d be set in her position at the marketing firm, making a name for herself with major clients who valued her creativity and talent. One more year, that was all we had left. And then we’d have everything we ever wanted.
But it had barely been nine months since I’d come out here, and things were already falling apart. I had applied for this program because it had always been my dream. To be the best, you had to learn from the best, and in the field of computer science, there was none better than DigiTech. However, once Lexi had come into the picture, I wasn’t so sure I cared about that as much as I once had. Then I’d gotten waitlisted, and the amount of personal failure I felt had cut me deep. But I still had Lexi, and the longer I’d gone without hearing anything from the admissions board, the more excited I had become to start my life with her—sooner rather than later. So when I’d received the acceptance packet, I was torn. The only thing that had made my decision easier was her encouragement and faith.
But now, I worried I was holding her back. That I was keeping her tied down in a relationship with almost nonexistent communication, little support in her day-to-day life, and zero physical contact. I didn’t want her to get those things anywhere else, but at the same time, I refused to risk the possibility that one day, before I graduated, she might resent me.
“If that’s the case,” she said in her wary tone, “then why didn’t you come back? Why did you choose California over Atlanta—and don’t give me the same song and dance you did back then. You had options. You chose to ignore them and take the safe route…the route that led you further away from me.”
“When we discussed my options over the phone, right after I was offered the placement position, I felt like I was trapped between a rock and a hard place. Either decision came with colossal risks. Taking the job meant potentially causing even more damage to our already fragile relationship, but it would’ve guaranteed my loans would be paid, and after three years, I’d be able to offer you a solid future. If I chose you, I ran the risk of defaulting on my loan, being unemployed for God knows how long, and failing in the one thing that makes a man a man—taking care of the woman he loves. It would’ve made our sacrifices meaningless, would’ve meant the two years in Washington were for nothing. And even still, it didn’t guarantee that you wouldn’t grow tired of carrying my dead weight and leave.”
We were no longer stopped in the middle of the highway, but we weren’t going more than twenty miles per hour. So while she had to pay attention to the car in front of us, she could still glance over at me while we continued to straighten this mess out.
“So, what? You figured since there was a chance you’d lose me either way, you might as well take the high-paying job to ensure your future was set without once considering what my future would look like without you?”
“No. That’s not it at all.”
“Then how was it, Chris?” Her anger had returned, and I was worried we wouldn’t be able to get through this without betrayal blinding her from my reality.
“When we got off the phone that morning, I hadn’t made a decision—you knew that. I wanted to hear your thoughts about it before I informed the school of my choice, and by the end of the call, we agreed to discuss it later. Except we never had another conversation. I was able to start the training program before signing the contract, so that’s what I did in the meantime.”
“So when did you decide you were going to take the job?”
This was the part of our story she’d never heard.
“I made up my mind two days before graduation. I hadn’t heard from you in over a month, but I knew you were busy with your mom and possibly transitioning into your job with the new firm who’d hired you.” I added emphasis to let her know her words had been what led me astray regarding her job. “So I figured between our last conversation and everything you had on your plate, you just didn’t have the time to call. I was aware things between us were rocky, but I guess I hadn’t expected you to give up without so much as a goodbye—or at the very least, an explanation.”
“What?” She swung her head to the side and stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes. “I didn’t give up. You did. You took the job in California. You chose that over me—over us and our future together. How can you sit here and say I was the one who threw in the towel first?”
“I tried to call you, wanted to make sure you had everything ready to fly out for my graduation. I also wanted to tell you that I’d made up my mind—that I was coming home with you, not moving
to California. Loans, money, jobs…none of it was as important as you, and even though we might’ve struggled for a bit, it would’ve been okay. Because we would’ve had each other.”
Her gasp was harsh, full of utter shock. Yet it was cut short when the car behind us honked a few times, telling Lexi to drive instead of stare at me with confused, surprised, and remorseful eyes.
“Yeah…so imagine my surprise when I discovered you’d cut me out of your life.”
“Chris, I didn’t cut you out.”
“Your number had been disconnected. Your email address was no longer valid, which didn’t come as a total surprise considering the last I’d heard, you were about to take on a new job, so I assumed they’d hired you and you lost your Miriam Pratt account. However, what was the most shocking, what felt worse than being stabbed in the chest with a machete, was when I discovered you’d blocked me on Facebook.”
“I didn’t…”
“When I searched your name, nothing came up…and you were no longer on my friends list. Anything I’d ever tagged you in had removed the tag to your name, and I couldn’t click on it. If you didn’t block me, explain that.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered with her fingers lightly covering her lips. “I deactivated my account. Between my family posting on my wall to ask about my mom rather than text or call me and the marketing vultures trying to get info about the buyout, I couldn’t handle it. I never thought about you seeing that and thinking I’d blocked you. Honestly, that never crossed my mind. And I told you about how Seneca stripped us of everything. I lost my email account in favor of access to the team account, and they switched our phone numbers to ones registered under the company.”
“You never called, Lexi.” It didn’t matter how many reasons she had for why I couldn’t reach her, because at the end of the day, she never tried to reach out to me. “And you never showed up to my graduation.”
