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The End Is Just The Beginning
My heart lurched in pain.Not even the rhythmical waves in the sea or the Christmas lights twinkling in the palm trees along the coast could soften the words spewing from Cole Kimbrough’s mouth.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a while, Aera.” Cole’s tan skin and freshly-cut curly hair gleamed under the lights like real gold. I was once convinced that selling even just a strand of it would make me filthy rich. Now all I wanted to do was tear each one of them from his scalp. Brutally. If possible.
“Talk to me about what?” I asked, gulping down the vegetables and marinated beef wrapped in rice and seaweed. I had a bad feeling I knew what was coming, but I fought the rising anger in me, trying to give Cole the benefit of the doubt. The downturn of his lips left little room for doubt, though.
With an impatient sigh, I snatched one morekimbapwith my bamboo chopsticks and shoved it in my mouth—anything to distract myself from his response.
Cole looked off into the distance. He was watching a group of children build a sand snowman near the waterline when the life-altering words no girl wanted to hear, especially yours truly, escaped his lips: “We need to break up.”
I coughed, choking on my own spit as I dropped the third piece of kimbap halfway to my mouth. It landed pathetically on my brand-new floral picnic blanket, the one I had ordered online from Victoria’s Secret for what was supposed to be a beautiful evening filled with love and passion.
Dear me, I was so wrong. Cole was barely even sitting on the picnic blanket. I had to take a deep breath to calm my boiling nerves, but of course, I failed miserably.
“Are you fucking serious?” Please excuse my language. “Do you have any idea how cliché and nasty it is to break up a few days before New Year’s Eveandmy birthday?” I blurted, furrowing my brows as I clutched my stomach, holding back the urge to puke and remember this traumatic experience for the rest of my life. “And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re supposed to be my date for prom!” I pulled out the colorful prom flyer from my yellow tote bag, but Cole, infuriatingly gentle, lowered my hand before I could shove it in his face.
As if on cue, a passing raven splattered the empty space between us with its droppings, followed by a loud, wetsquelch. Neither of us so much as blinked.
Cole repositioned himself to face me. His stoic expression told me everything before he could even emphasize the words, “Iamserious.” And with his eyes pinned on mine, he spoke the famous textbook lines, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
I flinched as the phrase pierced my heart and blew me away. Those goddamn words felt like they carried millions of invisible thorns, and I couldn’t breathe.
I muttered, “Heol,” the Korean word for,“Oh my God.”
“Aera … I hope you understand. We … this …”—he placed a hand on the left side of his chest—“it’s just not working.”
I fidgeted with the fringe of my blue sweater and mulled over his words. “Are you dying?”
“What?” A long pause followed, punctuated by the evident surprise in his tone. “No, not at all!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arms as he avoided my worried gaze.
“No? Have I been watching too many sad movies, then? Or is it because I talk too much?” I sniffled in disbelief. My classmates used to call me mute, but not because I was shy and quiet. It was because whenever someone attempted a conversation with me, I either glared at them, silently judgmental, or ignored them with all my might. Then, I met Cole in kindergarten—an unapologetically rude, socially awkward boy as disinterested in the world as I was. Meeting him encouraged my verbosity, especially since neither of us had other friends.
“You’re tired of hearing me ramble about K-pop and K-dramas, aren’t you?” I looked down and muttered, “Or is it my addiction to the supernatural stuff that bothers you? You never say a word every time I talk about it.”
The breakup itself might be bearable, but he was giving me zero reason for it all, and that was what I couldn’t handle.
“You know what I mean,” he said, as if that was all the explanation he owed me.
Clearing my throat, I addressed him. “You think I’m crazy and childish for musing about the supernatural, don’t you?” When he didn’t respond immediately, I pressed, “Even our classmates believe in them.” My coping mechanism—the art of denial and changing the topic—kicked in. “Hello? We even have werewolf hunters at school. Don’t tell me you think they’realldelusional too?” I froze mid-rant, realized I’d started waving my hands in his face, and lowered them slowly, insecurity creeping in again.
He shook his head. “It’s not that.”
“It’s not?”
“Y-you know what I mean,” he stammered, still managing to handle the situation better than I ever could.
I narrowed my eyes at him, utterly confused. “I would really appreciate it if you give me a little clarity here, Cole. A coherent, reasonable sentence would be enough. Just yesterday, everything was fine. We exchanged Christmas gifts and kissed under the mistletoe. We never even fought. Not one lovers’ quarrel.”
Unfazed, Cole repeated, “You know what I mean.”
“Stop saying that. I don’t know what you mean, okay?” I groaned, my impatience beginning to fester. “I’m not some mind reader. If you have a problem with me, you can at least tell me what it is. In case you haven’t noticed, I can be a good listener if I want to.”
Cole shrugged, and as I scrutinized his face, he remained virtually apathetic.
He couldn’t give me a reasonable explanation. His unperturbed disposition made me want to fall into a pit and just lie there in incredulity, wondering what in the hell just happened.
We’d been together for three years. Clearly, it took me too long to realize I’d been the only one driving this humdrum and passionless relationship. I’d convinced myself that Cole Kimbrough was the perfect boyfriend when in reality, his behavior ranged from barely being able to look me in the eyes to confessing he loved me with sincerity and honesty illuminating from within. I’d given him every gift I could think of, hoping it would make him happy and crazier about me, like the PlayStation I bought for him using the money I had earned from doing extra chores at home.
