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“Then tell them,” he answers me, but he doesn’t elaborate.
“Are you coming with me?” I ask him. I don’t want to do it alone. I’m practically terrified. I think they already know though, but I’m not sure.
“Fuck no,” Nathan says and looks back at me like I’m crazy.
“Well, I don’t want to do it alone.” I try not to raise my voice, but I do. It makes my heart beat faster thinking someone heard. I look over my shoulder from our booth in the corner but no one’s looking at us. The only other people in here are a few guys who just got off work at the steel mill, or maybe they’re on their break, I don’t know. But they’re all in the opposite booth and the one right next to it. Dirty boots and the thick jackets with Stanley’s Steel logos give away who they are.
“You don’t need me there,” Nathan says and then wipes pizza sauce from his hand with a thin napkin. He balls up the napkin as I answer, “I do. I want you there.” I try to put as much sincerity as I can into my tone.
“That’s not happening,” he tells me as though it’s final.
“Because you don’t want to and what I want doesn’t matter?” I ask him with nothing but venom.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” Nathan tells me, brushing me off. He makes me feel like I’m the crazy one.
“Is it that big of a deal to be by my side when I tell them?” I ask him desperately. Nathan looks at me for a moment like he’s considering what to say, but then he just looks out of the window as a car passes, completely distracted and not actually participating. That’s all I want; is it that unreasonable?
“So what?” I ask him, throwing my hands into the air and leaning back against the booth. The cheap vinyl squeaks and protests. I hate this little restaurant. The tables are cheap; the flooring is peeling.
“So, drop it.”
I flinch at his blunt response. I don’t like living like this, feeling as though I’m lying.
“They don’t even know we’re dating, let alone how serious it is,” I tell him as if it’s a confession. It really is, for me. I feel guilty and just want it off my chest.
“Is it really that serious?” he asks me like I’m being dramatic.
I sit there dumbfounded, falling back into my seat as my blood turns cold. I try to clear my throat, but it’s dry so I pick up the plastic cup of Coke and take a sip and then another, staring out of the large bay window and watching the cars drive by too. I ignore the pain in my chest and the way my eyes sting.
We’re over. I won’t give myself to someone who won’t do the same in return.
But I already have, and that’s the part that hurts the most. Young and dumb, puppy love. Whatever it’s called, it’s a brutal bitch.
* * *
It was a similar breakup,like so many that we’d gone through. At the time, it felt like the worst thing imaginable. Like he’d taken my heart and torn it to shreds and didn’t give a damn about it.
So I stormed off. Determined to piss him off and get under his skin like he’d gotten under mine.
I went down Rodney Street, making sure to take the first few streets I’d normally walk down on the way to my house. Just in case Nathan was watching. And then I went left, downhisstreet. Intohisterritory.
I remember gritting my teeth and feeling so vindicated. He didn’t want to date me, fine. He wasn’t going to tell me what to do then.
I was in my boots and a flimsy sweater, not nearly warm enough for the weather and I cursed Nathan under my breath, not bothering to look where I was going or to notice how the people on the streets were disappearing, leaving the sidewalks vacant.
I looked up to see a street light flicker, the only one that was lit on that side of the street.
And then it happened. Chills cover my arms as I remember.
His hands were cold and rough as he pulled me just inside the alley. My heart slammed as I screamed out in surprise. His breath smelled like cigarettes. I tried to get away, I scrapped and screamed again, but I didn’t have to try hard.
It was over so quickly. That’s the part that was so utterly shocking. It only took one motion, one swift pull and shove from Nathan. The man flew back as Nathan ripped him away, tearing his fingers from under my sweater, his dirty nails scratching my skin as he was snatched away.
I heard a cry, my shrill scream from the terror I hadn’t realized was over. And then a crack. The sound is so pure in my head. A skull crashing against the sharp corner of a dumpster.
Crack.
It silenced me. It made the chaos go still. Somehow, deep inside, I knew it was all over from that sound. As if it were deeply embedded in me to know it was the sound that comes with immediate death.
