It would have been a pathetic sight, had anyone been watching. Or perhaps it would have been heart wrenching; I don't know. My black heels slid repeatedly on the ice as I struggled to drag my heavy suitcase through the snow, watching it become more and more entrenched the harder I tried to pull it through what has got the be the worlds least convenient form of precipitation, next to hurricanes.
Through my tears, I misjudged the step ahead of me and fell to my knees, the words my mom had yelled as I packed my bags still repeating in my mind. It was sheer determination that got my heavy luggage in the trunk without slipping again off my feet, or perhaps my pure desire to get away as soon as possible. It was past midnight on a Saturday night, two weeks before Christmas. I cleared the driveway just as the first, fragile snowflakes began to fall.
Minutes later, I pulled into the Del Taco parking lot where Bobby and I had agreed to meet. Keeping my balance through the quick sprint from my car to his, I climbed into the passenger seat and tried to thaw out, hoping that he couldn't see the tears still spilling down my cheeks and knowing that he could. He asked a few questions concerning my general well-being, which I assured him was well on it's way to being perfectly adequate. He ignored my obvious lie and reminded me instead that he loved me, that he was there for me and that everything would be alright.
"I think we should just be friends."
I forced the words through my lips before I could find a reason to change my mind. I knew the phrase was cliche and overused, but I had simply wanted to get it out as quickly as possible and so skipped over the part where I would think of a more creative replacement for 'I'm breaking up with you.'
"Okay, whatever you want," he answered with an expression and tone of voice that implied that he would promptly carve out his own heart if he thought it would make me happy. Or maybe I'm being melodramatic.
The thing is, I really, really didn't want to break up with Bobby. We had only been together for a few months and he had a way of making me happy pretty much all the time, not just those few months but the better part of a year leading up to them. He had played the role of my best friend, while ever so patiently waiting for any shot I would give him at being my 'The One.' I knew that I could trust him with my whole heart, should I decide to give it to him. The problem was, my heart was in no condition to be given away, even to this sweet boy.
Still, his quick answer broke through my cloud of self pity long enough to surprise me. I didn't know what I had been expecting exactly, but I was fairly certain that an immediate "Okay" was not on the list.
We sat in comparative silence for a few minutes as I willed my pain to quit leaking out of my eyes in droplets. He occasionally expressed concern for my welfare, and I continued to pretend that I was okay. I wondered briefly if perhaps he hadn't in fact noticed that I had just requested the immediate termination of our relationship. I couldn't really see how he could have missed it. I had been pretty straightforward.
"I'm sorry," I said, minutes later.
"Sorry for what?"
"That we can't be together."
This time a quick reply was not forthcoming. I risked a glance at him and saw that his gaze was fixed ahead at the building snowstorm, his face an emotionless mask.
So he had noticed. While this was more in keeping with my subconscious expectations, I did not enjoy the fact that I had indeed hurt him.
"We should probably be going," he said, with part concern and part feigned nonchalance.
He was right. The storm was getting fiercer by the minute, and the freeway was going to be a nightmare. I followed behind him in my car as we slowly navigated the I15, sliding out only a few times on Bangerter but fortunately missing obstacles such as other cars. It was a full hour before I was safely perched on his couch, cocooned in the blankets that he had fetched and wrapped around me the moment we arrived, as was our tradition. Bobby's family had taken me in on several occasions that year, when disagreements with my parents had resulted in one or the other of us suggesting I find somewhere else to stay. Tonight was hardly new to Bobby's family. It held a marked difference for me however.
If you leave now you better not plan on coming back...Knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep for a while, Bobby started the season finale of Glee while I acted vaguely comatose. I both yearned for and dreaded any sort of physical contact, reacting with equal amounts of relief and pain when he finally placed his arm around my shoulders. It didn't last long, however. He soon removed his arm and a minuted later we had both shifted so that we were no longer touching each other at all. We didn't make eye contact.
I silently congratulated myself that I had gone so long without crying. Ah, the miracle of television. I vaguely recall watching more TV, and then discussing the events of the night, but honestly this is where it all gets hazy. In any other company I might suspect having been drugged. I suppose it must have been the stress. In any case, I don't remember what we watched or what was said.
I do remember when we decided that it was time we tried to sleep. We walked together down the stairs to his basement bedroom and he busied himself with straightening the bed and covering all glowing surfaces. I can't sleep if there's any light in the room; this includes clocks, computers and the various lights that much of our modern technology seems to come with these days. He had always been the one to see to every detail of my comfort. The only part that I wasn't used to was the way he quietly moved around the room as if in a great hurry, and the way that he wouldn't look at me.
"Okay then, goodnight."
And he was gone. Just like that. Without another word or glance to suggest that he could ever forgive me. I stood there, shocked in the wake of his abrupt dismissal. He had never, in the ten months that I had known him, left me like that before. Things were bad.
Gone were the tears that stole silently across my face. Replacing them were sobs that wracked my whole body; I held my breath to keep the sounds from escaping my throat, shaking violently with repressed pain. I fell onto his bed, taking only as much breath as was absolutely needed.
It was perhaps a minute later that I heard a sudden knock on the door. I hurriedly dried my eyes and sat up.
"Come in."
I swear on my life, it was just like the movies.
The door swung open and Bobby strode determinedly into the room, eyes locked on mine. Not stopping until he was directly in front of me, he leaned down to eye level.
"I'm not ready to let you go," he said gently, and he kissed me.
He held me until I felt calm again, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay after all.
