by Sky Corgan
“Yeah.” She doesn't sound convinced. “You still don't seem happy, though. Generally, I mean.”
“I don't?” I'm surprised she picked up on it.
“This is going to sound horrible, but when I found out that you were dating Peter, I wondered what the two of you had in common. It's hard to keep a relationship together when you don't share interests.”
“We both like staying fit,” I start. “We both like eating out. And we both like drinking coffee.”
Becky shifts her weight. “Maybe you have more in common than I thought. But I've noticed that your eyes don't light up anymore whenever he walks into the room.”
I've noticed, too. Nothing about being with him excites me anymore, even though he's a wonderful man.
“I'd think that you're just past the honeymoon phase of the relationship, but it's way too early for that.” She picks up her glass of wine and chugs half of it. There's nothing demure about her drinking. She doesn't pretend to be perfect around me anymore, and that's something I like. It makes me feel like we're becoming true friends.
“I remember the honeymoon phase,” I say with a soft smile. The time when my heart beat rapidly every time I laid eyes on Peter—when all I could do was fantasize about the two of us together. I wonder what changed in such a short amount of time.
“Maybe you aren't really ready for someone like him.” Becky quirks her head to the side. “Or perhaps you thought he was your type, but he really isn't. Just because you're physically attracted to a guy doesn't mean you'll be compatible with him. It's kind of funny how that works. I've dated some of the stupidest hotties on the face of the planet.”
“Peter isn't stupid,” I quickly cut her off.
“I'm not saying he is.” She swirls what's left of the wine in her glass. “Of course, he's not. I'm just saying that something could be off between the two of you. Usually, when things go downhill this quickly, it's the beginning of the end.
“You'll only make things worse by hanging onto him. Nothing can hurt your heart more than trying to pretend like everything is okay when it's not. Everyone around you sees your silent suffering.”
“I'm not silently suffering.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Not about that, at least.”
“Then what?” she asks.
I want to say that I'm still suffering over the Caleb thing, but that's not entirely accurate. At least, it doesn't explain why I'm so disconnected from Peter. In truth, the disconnect has always been there from day one. I was just able to ignore it because I was so happy about getting what I wanted. Now that I have Peter, I've come to realize the blunder I've made—everything I've done to make the relationship happen. I've tried to force myself to be someone I'm not—someone that he'll like. I've become an imposter. It's rare that we do anything together that I actually enjoy. And by pretending I like things that I don't, I've backed myself into a corner. I continue to pretend because I'm afraid that he'll stop liking me. But in truth, I'm just making myself miserable.
“Personal things,” I tell her finally. She doesn't need to know what I'm thinking, though I'm pretty sure she's already figured it out.
One bottle of wine turns into two turns into three. She regales me with tales of her sexual exploits. Some of them are so lewd that they make me blush. I knew she was a crazy girl, but I never knew she'd go so far as to have sex with someone on the rooftop of a building overlooking the city...or to give a blowjob in a Macy's dressing room. I only wish I had half of her adventurous nature.
Things begin to blur, and we quickly become too drunk to drive, so I tell her I'm going to order an Uber.
“I'm coming with you.” She clutches onto my arm as we walk out of the bar together.
“Whadya mean? Didn't you get own Uber?” I glance down at the two of her next to me.
“I wanna see yer place.” Becky hiccups.
“You can see it some ther time.” I scowl at her.
“Just lemme come ova. I can't werk ma phone right now anywa.”
“Fine.” I groan.
Not surprisingly, she ends up passing out almost the second I show her my bedroom. Her eyes land on my bed, and she takes a flying leap onto the middle of it before immediately starting to snore. I push her over as best I can and crawl into bed beside her. Thankfully, the alcohol knocks me out, too.
When I finally open my eyes, the light cutting through the blinds is almost blinding. My head spins as I cover my eyes with my arm to shield them from the sun. Becky is still sleeping like a corpse next to me.
I check the time on my phone and gasp before shaking her to wake her up. “Get up. We're both late for work.”
Peter has texted me half a dozen times. I shoot him a quick text back explaining what happened and telling him we'll be there soon. Hopefully, he doesn't get mad at us.
Becky groans to life, blinking up at me. “What?”
“Get up. We have to get to work,” I tell her as I quickly change my clothes. I don't have anything that she hasn't seen before, so I'm not the least bit bashful about being nude around her. Besides, I'm used to other females seeing me naked because of my sisters.
“I'm not going anywhere.” She grabs one of my pillows and covers her face with it.
“Yes, you are,” I insist. “You can't stay here.”
“Just a little while longer,” Becky pouts. It may have worked on all the guys she's bedded, but it's definitely not going to work on me.
“Get up. I'm ordering an Uber so we can go pick up our cars.” I have no sympathy for her.
“Some friend you are.” She tears the pillow away from her face, but she's not angry. Still in that babyish mood where she's trying to get her way.
“I'm a friend who is barely making her rent, so unlike you who shares a place with someone else, I have to go to work,” I inform her.
“That will change if you let me move in with you,” she segues into her offer.
Right about now, it sounds like a good idea. I'd like nothing more than to tell Peter I'm not coming to work and pass back out. I can't afford to miss any more work right now, though.
“Get up, or I'll sit on you,” I threaten since she's not moving fast enough.
It works, though she still slugs along, and I have to continue to motivate her to leave until we're out the door. I sigh when the Uber drops us off at the bar and we part ways—me going to work and her heading back to her apartment. Here's to the start of another miserable day.
If having to go to work wasn't bad enough, it gets worse when Peter tells me he wants to talk after work. When I ask him if it can wait, he tells me that it's important. I spend the day with a ball of dread in my stomach, wondering what he wants to discuss.
After work, we climb into his car. He drives us through Starbucks for coffee and then we sit in his car in the parking lot. The fact that we're not going in somewhere definitely means he wants to keep the conversation private. The fact that he won't look at me tells me this has to be bad. And while I feel uncomfortable about the pending discussion, I don't have any anxiety over the possibility of us breaking up...and that bothers me.
“You've been distant lately,” he begins finally.
I don't really know what to say. Nothing that comes out of my mouth won't hurt him. That is what I'm scared of the most—hurting him like I've been hurt by others in the past.
Peter looks down at his coffee cup. “I've noticed it for a while and have been hoping it would change.”
I bite my bottom lip, searching for words.
“Whatever this is, I promise you it's something we can fix,” he tells me, glancing in my direction. “Talk to me, Willow.”
I take a deep breath before speaking. “I'm not sure that it's going to change.”
“Why not? Tell me what's wrong.” Peter twists in his seat to face me.
I hesitate, hating myself for what I'm about to say. “Before I knew you...really knew you, I think I was infatuated with the idea of you. You're wealthy and successful and smart and powerful. I h
aven't known many men like you in my life. And I thought that if I dated you—if we eventually got married—I'd never have to worry about the bullshit in my life that has made me miserable up to this point. I thought that I could finally hold my head up to everyone who used to look down on me.
“It's a shitty way to look at dating—to want to date someone better than me so that they could elevate me instead of working hard on my own to be respected. But for some reason, I've held onto that old school mentality that the most important thing for a woman to do is to find a respected, successful man and get married. I feel like I've used you.”
Peter lets out a small laugh, but he doesn't sound offended. In fact, he smirks. I furrow my brow in confusion at his amusement over what I just said.
“I'm not exactly sure I would call myself respectable,” he confesses. “Not until I met you, at least.
“If I'm being completely honest, I only started dating you because I thought it would be interesting. You're also different from the girls I'm used to being with—in a different way. You're funny and determined and so full of life.
“But I initially thought I'd grow sick of you. That you'd just be another passing fancy,” he pauses, drawing his tongue across his bottom lip. “That didn't happen. Somehow, someway, you made me fall in love with you. You're so charming and quirky. Life is an adventure when I'm by your side. I miss you when you're not around. I want to share all of the experiences that life has to offer with you. But that definitely wasn't so in the beginning.”
It doesn't hurt half as badly to hear him say those things as I know it should. That only confirms my resolve.
Peter reaches across to take my hand. It feels awkward. I stare down at our joined hands. Then my eyes meet his.
“We got together for all of the wrong reasons,” he continues. “But I'm glad that it happened, and I wouldn't want it any other way.”
My heart breaks for him. He looks so happy. But this isn't how I envisioned this conversation going.
I pull my hand away. “I'm sorry, Peter, but I don't think we should see each other anymore.”
That's when the shock sets in. Peter's eyes grow large. His mouth falls open. He reminds me of a deer in the headlights. He never saw the collision coming.
“What?”
“I can't be with you anymore.” I shake my head.
“Why?” He furrows his brow, and I can see pain etched all over his face. Then his expression stills. “Is this about Caleb?”
“No.” I drop my eyes to my lap. My hand feels unnaturally cold without Peter's. It's the feeling of severing.
“You like him...don't you?” his tone grows serious again.
I'm not going to lie to him anymore, so I say nothing. I just sit there, drowning in the unpleasantness of the conversation.
He sucks in a deep breath. “I kind of had a feeling you might. The two of you spent so much time together. I was afraid this might happen.” He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “He has a girlfriend, Willow.” When I don't respond, he continues, “Things are like this for a reason. You're not supposed to be with him. You're supposed to be with me. And I refuse to lose you to him.”
The determination in his voice demands my attention. I stare at him, completely confused.
“I decline your request to end our relationship,” he tells me in his best business voice.
Now I'm the one with my jaw dropped. Can he even do that?
“We're going to work through this. We came together for a reason, and I'm not about to let you go.
“I won't lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone,” he insists.
“Peter,” I say his name...because I don't know what else to say. I've never been in a situation like this before. Most guys would just accept the breakup and move on. But there's a look in his eyes that says he won't be denied.
I'm not sure if I'm drawn by the romanticism of the moment or dismayed because he's refusing my rejection. Whatever the case, I don't argue. I just sit there and let the moment pass, hoping that he's right—hoping that somehow we can work our way through this and be happy together again.
Peter
I drove Willow back to her car as soon as we finished our coffees because I was terrified that she'd change her mind. By the time I got home, I felt better. At the end of the day, she didn't leave me. I was able to keep her by my side.
It was a sleepless night spent pouring over every memory of our relationship. I smiled as I thought about so many things. When I accidentally squirted water on the front of her shirt. The way she tried so hard to keep up with me during tennis. The magic of our first kiss.
I love everything about her. Girls have come and gone in my life, but no one has ever stuck with me the way that she has. I've never met anyone who I couldn't stop thinking about. It seems like every waking moment since we started dating, I've been focused on doing everything that I can to make Willow happy. I honestly don't know where I went wrong.
Whatever the case, I have to make it right again.
The next morning at work, I make it a point to cross paths with her as much as possible. I shadow her data entry more than necessary just because I want to be close to her. She barely looks at me, and there's a sickness in my chest knowing that this is going to be a process. But even worse, not really knowing where to start.
“We should start going on more dates,” I tell her after work. “I think we should go on one right now.”
She seems to cringe away from the idea. “Peter, I'm not really in the mood right now.”
“Please, Willow.” I face her and take her hands in mine. “Just a few minutes in my car. It would really mean a lot to me.”
She forces a smile and follows me. All the way to my vehicle, I'm internally panicking. It feels like I'm trying to paddle up a raging river. One wrong move and my canoe will topple over and I'll drown. I can't allow that to happen.
We sit in my car, and I feel the urge to drive away with her. To kidnap her to somewhere that will make her smile—that will make her happy to be with me again.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask, pressing the button for the ignition. “We can go out to eat or a movie. Whatever you want. Tonight is all about you.”
She gives me a pained look. “Peter, don't.”
“Don't what?” I pretend to be oblivious to the fact that I'm acting irrationally desperate.
Willow sinks into the seat a little. “I spent all night thinking about this.”
“I did, too.”
“Let me finish.” She holds out her hand to stop me. I don't want her to stop me because I fear that I know what's coming next.
“Fine,” I relent, bracing myself for the worst.
“I thought about it last night, and I really can't be with you anymore. There's no way we're going to be able to make this work. I'm sorry.” Her expression is full of empathy.
It feels like my heart has dropped to my feet and been stomped on. I don't want to accept what she's saying. This feels no different than last night. I refuse to give up.
“We can make this work,” I insist.
“No, we can't.”
“It's because you love him." I nod. "Of course, you do.” I tear my hands through my hair. “Why wouldn't you? He's a great guy. You've spent lots of time together. It's only natural you'd eventually develop feelings for him. But you can't be with him now, so what's the point?”
She doesn't speak, so I continue, trying to calm myself a bit. “You know, I never thought I'd want to get married. Not for a long time at least. I wanted to go through life being a player for as long as possible. But then you walked into my life, and it was like...a fucking hurricane. You completely destroyed everything I thought I knew about myself—everything I thought I wanted.
“Now when I wake up in the morning, all I see is you. All I want is to be by your side.
“When I look into your eyes, I see what could be. I can see our unborn children. I can see us living in a house together with one of those stupid fu
cking white picket fences...or whatever you might want.” I shake my head, trying to alleviate some of the pain coursing through me. My hands are starting to tremble, and I can feel tears searing my eyes. I don't cry. Ever. So I know this is the real shit. My heart is being broken for the first time. And God damn does it ever hurt. “Please tell me there's a way to fix this. Please tell me it's not really over.” I look at her, and I can't even pretend to be composed anymore because I'm completely falling apart.
She stares forward, her face emotionless. “I'm sorry, Peter.” Then she digs through her purse and hands me a box. I know what's inside. She wasn't wearing the necklace I gave her today. I had hoped she had just forgotten it at home. But that's obviously not the case.
When I don't reach out to take the box, she sets it on the dashboard. Then she opens the door and climbs out of my car.
I'm shell-shocked. I can't move. Can't breathe. I just want to die.
The best thing I've ever had in my entire life just walked away from me, and I can't get her back.
Willow
Going to work the next day is awkward. Thankfully, it's the last day before we start telecommuting. I didn't plan my timing on breaking up with Peter, but it couldn't have worked out better.
“Are you excited about the graduation party tonight?” Becky asks me.
I'm not. It would be obvious if she knew that I broke up with Peter. I haven't told her yet, though. I haven't really felt like talking about it because I'm still processing my feelings.
“I don't think I'm going to go.” I shift in my seat uncomfortably.
“You should go,” Peter's voice comes out of left field. “It will be the last time that we're all together.”
I turn to face him, feeling my heart clench in my chest. Even though I'm the one who dumped him, it still hurts. I cried about it all last night. That's why there are bags under my eyes today. It feels like I'm slowly losing everyone in my life that I care about.
Caleb is still ignoring me. I just broke up with Peter. Tomorrow I'll start telecommuting, so I won't even be seeing Becky anymore regularly. It's going to be a very lonely life.
