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I’m going to vomit. “No, I think you’ve made it pretty clear.”
“Okay. You probably shouldn’t call me anymore.”
And now it feels like my heart has been punted into traffic and run over by a transport truck. “Fuck you, Tristan.” I end the call before he can say anything else to pulverize my heart.
Hammer’s expression tells me she heard everything he said. “Why is he being such a horrible prick?”
“I don’t know.” A low sob bubbles up.
She opens her arms, and I fall into them, letting her hold me while I cry my heart out.
The next morning at work, everyone who sees me asks what’s wrong, and my boss pulls me aside and tells me it’s okay to take a few days off if I’m sick. It’s flu season, and two other employees have called in this week. I don’t need to be a hero.
I don’t tell her I don’t have the flu. Although this feels just as bad, if not worse. I am heartsick, though. I can’t stomach food. Sleep is evasive. My chest aches. I was in a relationship with Rob for more than a year, and I was sad that it ended, but it didn’t hurt a fraction as much as this does. Which tells me a lot about my feelings for Tristan. There were a few times recently when I considered telling him, but I didn’t know how he’d react, so I didn’t. That seems to have been the right choice.
I leave before lunch and do something stupid on the subway ride home: I check all the unread messages from Rob.
Rob
Hey, checking in, I shouldn’t have left that in a text message. It was a shitty thing to do.
It’s been two weeks, Rix, please message just so I know you’re okay
You’re dating a pro hockey player? I guess maybe that explains the silence. I’m still sorry about the text I sent, and I hope you’re doing well.
My fingers hover over the keys, I start and stop a few times, but I finally type the message and send it:
Rix
Was I easy to leave?
The humping dots appear and disappear three times before a message appears.
Rob
I’m calling you, please pick up.
My phone vibrates just as I exit the train. I clear my throat before I speak, “Hi.”
“Hey. Hi. I’m glad you picked up. Are you okay?” Concern laces his tone.
“Right now I’m not the best, but I’ll be okay. Was I easy to leave?” I ask again. Because this is the second time in a year someone has broken up with me. I feel like the common denominator.
“No, Rix, you weren’t easy to leave,” he says softly.
“One day you were texting that you missed me and then a couple of weeks later you were dating someone new.”
He sighs. “That wasn’t fair of me. But loving you from the other side of the country wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. Breaking up with you was hard, Rix. Really fucking hard. It’s why I didn’t message for a couple of months. I just…couldn’t hear your voice and not hurt. Why are you asking me this?”
“The hockey player broke it off with me.”
“He’s a fucking idiot, and I would know since I was one too when it came to you. Did he say why?”
“He said he couldn’t be what I needed.”
“That sounds like a him problem, not a you problem. Look, Rix, you’re an incredible woman. Driven, smart, fun, funny. Maybe he realized the same thing I did, that it would only be a matter of time before someone better for you came along. But breaking up with you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”
“It was the right thing to do, though. Thank you for taking the time to call.”
“Thanks for answering.”
We say a slightly awkward goodbye and I feel like at least where Rob is concerned, I have some closure. I manage to keep it together until I get home. But the second I walk through the door, I break down again. That’s the state I’m in when I call Essie.
“That fucking asshole. He’s damn lucky I don’t live in Toronto, or I’d hunt his stupid ass down and kick him in the nuts,” she says after I explain.
I start bawling again. I’m not afraid of crying, although I prefer to do it in private. But the number of tears I’ve shed since last night is ridiculous. I should probably drink something with electrolytes to replenish all the salt I’ve lost.
“Can you take a few days off work?” Essie asks.
“My boss thinks I have the flu.” When I saw my face in the subway mirror, it made a lot of sense. My eyes are red rimmed, with dark circles under them, my nose is red, and I have a pocket full of tissues. So yeah, it was a logical leap.
