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My parents drive me back and even help Rebecca and me move into our new apartment. After they leave, Rebecca and I flop down onto the couch. Being back in town and not talking to Trace is harder than I thought.
“Stop thinking about him.”
I turn my head to look at my best friend. “I’m not,” I lie.
“Yes, you are. You get this look on your face.” She lays an arm over my shoulders. “You’ll be fine without him. You’ll be okay, I promise.”
I nod even though I don’t believe her. Faking it is harder than I thought it would be. Maybe that’s where I went wrong with Trace. I was completely honest with him. If I had lied, maybe he wouldn’t have thought he was making me worse.
Absentmindedly, I grab my wrist and start squeezing. I can only get better, right? It can’t get much worse than a stay in the local psych ward. At least I hope not. But with my luck, who am I kidding? I’m a jobless graduate who can’t maintain a relationship, has never had a job, and suffers from anxiety and depression. Oh yeah. My future is looking so damn bright.
Ha.
“Okay,” Rebecca starts, standing and disappearing into the kitchen. She calls over her shoulder, “You aren’t ready to stop thinking about him yet. That means ice cream straight out of the carton, fried pickles from your favorite restaurant, and Sun Drop.” She walks back into the room carrying all of the items.
“How’d you get the pickles?” I ask curiously and reach for those first.
She laughs. “You would go for that over ice cream.” She shakes her head and sits back down. “That errand your mom had to run? It was to get those. I figured we’d end up here.”
“You’re the best best friend.” I pop a pickle into my mouth. God, it’s been too long since I’ve had these.
“I know. Do you think you’re up for bashing the ex yet?”
“I don’t know.” I stuff my mouth with food.
“Try it. What about Trace sucked?”
I try to think about it, but the only thing I can think of is, “He could use better timing when breaking up with me.” I frown. “I don’t want to talk about him, Bec.”
“Fine. Let’s talk about my ex.”
My eyes widen. “You and Dustin broke up?”
“Yeah. He has some issues he needs to work on and I didn’t want to hang around for it.”
A good friend would ask her to say more. A good friend would wonder what kind of issues he had. A good friend would say I’m sorry. But all I can think about is how that’s basically why Trace broke up with me. I have issues and he didn’t want to be with me while I worked on them.
“Let’s just watch TV,” Rebecca says with an apologetic look.
I nod and eat my fried pickles. Later that night, I’m lying in bed, doing what I shouldn’t be doing. Thinking about Trace. I just want to check on him. He wasn’t in great shape either when I left. I cradle my phone in my hands. Before I can change my mind, I dial the digits so my call will come through as an unknown caller. Trace answers on the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
My chest tightens at the sound of his gorgeous voice. Tears start falling without permission.
“Hello?” he says again. “Who is this?”
But then I realize he doesn’t sound sad. Not even a little.
He doesn’t sound like a man who misses the girl he supposedly loves. He doesn’t sound like he’s going through a hard time. He sounds just fine. I hang up and throw my phone across the room. Here I am, completely devastated, and he can’t even sound upset when he answers the phone?
God, I hate him.
I hate him for doing this to me. I hate him for breaking up with me. I hate him for making me fall in love with him. I hate him! I wish he’d never moved to town. I wish we’d stayed friends. Then I wouldn’t be lying in bed with a broken heart.
I’ll focus on myself, try to get back to a better place, and forget all about him. I have to worry about getting and maintaining a job now. I can’t let my parents take care of me forever. I focus on everything else and try to forget about Trace. As long as I never see or hear from him again, I’ll be fine.
Eventually, Trace will be a faint memory. That’s all I ask, so this pain will go away. For all I care, Trace can go to hell.
