Kyle gave a nervous giggle and then turned to one of the phones that was right in our face. “She’s just . . . taken aback,” he said, and then smiled into the phone.
“Yes! I am taken aback,” I said. “That’s a good way to put it.” I folded my arms and took a step away from Kyle.
He smiled at me and turned to the camera again. “She just needs a moment. God only knows what she’s been through these last few weeks. I’m sure it’s been very traumatic. If any of you have been through a similar experience, let me know in the comments and tell me how you dealt with it.”
“WHAT are you GOING on about, KYLE?” I threw my arms in the air getting frustrated. “I am not traumatized. I wasn’t kidnapped. I have not been abducted by a strange cult. I am here by choice!”
Kyle shook his head tightly at me, as if he didn’t want anyone to see. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said.
I laughed. “Kyle, I know exactly what I’m saying. Today, I know more about what I’m saying than I did weeks ago when I wanted to say something.” I stopped talking and thought about that sentence. That didn’t exactly make sense and I could see a few people around me scrunching up their faces as they too tried to work that out.
“What I mean is, I am perfectly sane right now. More than I’ve ever been before. And everything is so clear to me now too.”
He blinked a few times as if he was very confused. “What’s clear?”
“Get up, get up, get up.” I walked over to him again and pulled him to his feet. “And put that thing away.” I pointed at the ring box that he was holding in his hands. “I am not going to marry you, Kyle. And if you really take a moment to think about it, you don’t want to marry me either. Really marry me. You want to marry me because it makes good content and hundreds of thousands of people took a poll and told you to do it!” I spat the words out and Kyle looked at me as if I was mad. “Kyle . . . you and I, what we had, it’s not real, is it?” My voice got a little softer and gentler, but this only made the cameras come in closer. I tried to swat a few away with my hands as if they were flies.
“What we had was a business arrangement, not a relationship. It was for show. For everyone else. We never did anything just for us. There was no ‘us,’ Kyle. It was all aboutthem.” I pointed at the cameras now.
Kyle looked confused. Poor guy. It was clear he had no idea what I meant. He clearly had no idea how a real relationship or friendship worked, and I did. I’d had the privilege of experiencing that these last few weeks.
“Kyle, you don’t love me. You love the likes.”
“I . . . I . . . do love you, Frankie,” he said, more to the camera than to me, which made me see that he was still playing for all the viewers. Was he even capable of being real? Having a real conversation? For a moment? Maybe I needed to take a different approach.
“You made me get a boob job!” I pointed at him and everyone around me gasped. “You didn’t love me for me. You cherry-picked the things you liked about me. You constantly told me what was wrong with me, or what I was doing wrong.”
“Self-improvement, babe. I was trying to motivate you towards your Personal Explosive Smash Through™.” He turned to the camera again. “If we are not having powerful daily Smash Through ExperiencesTM, we are not growing.”
“Oh my God!” I threw my hands in the air. “If I hear you say the word ‘explosive’ or ‘smash through’ or ‘breakthrough’ or ‘hashtag personal damn growth’ again, it will be too soon. Besides, it’s all crap, Kyle. All of it.”
Kyle looked at me sternly now. As if this was the thing that had finally made him think. He started shaking his head. Looking almost wounded.
“Frankie, if we are not constantly striving and pushing the boundaries of our own goals, we will stagnate and not ever step into our purposes, smashing through the doors of challenge that surround us.”
“Uh . . .” I blinked my eyes at him quickly, and then looked over at my sister. She was shaking her head in utter confusion.
“It’s all in my book,” he said, turning to the phone again. “Explosive, Personal, Smash Through In Ten Steps™, dropping in two weeks’ time.” He smiled at the camera and then looked back at me and shrugged, as if to say,Duh. Like I was meant to have any idea what the hell he was going on about.
“I . . . I . . . It’s . . . You . . . We . . .” I stuttered frantically trying to grab onto some words of sense. But there was nothing sensible about anything that was going on around me, so I said the only thing that came to mind. “You had pec implants!”
A huge gasp rang out around me, and everyone’s eyes zoned in on his chest. For the first time that day, it looked like a real emotion actually washed over Kyle’s face. He looked mortified, and truthfully, I felt a little bad.
“Keep going, keep going,” our social media manager whispered at me. “People are loving this, you must see the comments.”
I swung around and glared at her. Looking straight into the camera now. “I don’t care about the comments. I don’t care about the likes and the shares and the heart emojis and hashtags anymore.”
She gasped at me. As if I’d stabbed her in the ribs with something. She took a step back, almost recoiling. As if she’d never heard anything more disgusting and disturbing in her entire matt-lipsticked life.
I put my hands on my hips and looked around, taking in the whole scene. The townsfolk all behind me, dressed in their reenactment clothes. I caught some eyes I knew as I scanned the crowd; Ian gave me an encouraging nod, Natasha gave me a thumbs up, as did the rest of the ladies from book club.
I turned back around and looked at all the phones. And then I sighed loudly and walked up to Kyle. I put my hands on his shoulders and gripped them tightly. He looked confused.
“I’m sure there is someone perfect out there for you, who shares in your passion and daily motivational quotes and will enjoy spending hours and hours and hours taking photos of you at the gym holding a protein bar, read your book and love it, but that person is not me . . .anymore.”
Kyle hung his head and I honestly felt sorry for him. “Hey!” I squeezed his shoulders a little harder. “Think what great content this will make. You, recovering from a break-up like this. Think about all those people out there right now who are posting you sympathetic emojis and broken hearts. Think about how you can turn this whole thing around and use it to motivate people one day. Your Break-up, Smash ThroughTM! Think about that, Kyle.” And then I let go of his shoulders, turned and started walking away. But then I stopped and swung around again, pointing an accusatory finger at everyone.
“And as for you lot, you heard the guy, it’s illegal to have the internet here. Get out of here. All of you.” I saw my sister’s face drop and then I quickly corrected, “Not you,” I said to her. “I want you to meet someone. Come.” She ran up to me and I turned back to the crowd and scanned it for Mark, but he wasn’t there. I scanned it again, and again and sudden panic rose up inside me. When had he gone? I hope he’d seen me turn Kyle down and didn’t think I was now engaged to him.
