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“No, I’m not alright. If this is one of your jokes, Dell, it’s not funny.” I catch the eye of the waitress and, almost as if she’s running on intuition, she runs over and fills up my glass of wine once more.
“Non così tanto,” Dell mutters to the waitress, who looks between us confused, before leaving. “It’s not a joke. Why are you behaving like this?”
Is he seriously gaslighting this situation? Fuck him. I haven’t started screaming or throwing things at him. He needs to explain this or I’m going to lose it.
“Why areyoudoing this? We’ve been together for seven years.”
“We were kids, Mal,” he groans while rubbing his forehead. “Teenagers can’t make lifelong commitments. That’s why most high school relationships don’t last.”
“That’s bullshit,” I grumble before taking another long sip of my wine. “That’s a viable excuse when it comes to relationships that are one, two, or maybe even three years old that start in high school. We’re in our early twenties now, Dell. High school ended three years ago for me, five years for you. Seven yearsisa commitment, Delvin.”
He hates when I use his first name and it shows.
“I brought you here to soften the blow, but fine, have it your way,” he groans before leaning his elbows on the table, glowering at me. “You are not a girl to be taken seriously, Laura. You’re a blonde, ditsy, college kid. Malibu Barbie had a much bigger personality than you and you’re going nowhere. Being an editor for a publishing house is a job, not a career, and I need someone serious, like a nurse, a lawyer, or an accountant—someone with a career, not a childish fantasy. You’re not realistic. If anything, you’re average and I’m not settling for less than what I expect.”
Maybe it’s that his words hurt. Maybe they just piss me off because I’m not average, ditsy, or childish. No matter the reason, I still pick up my glass of wine and douse him in it, staining his baby blue button down.
“What the fuck, Laura!” He bellows as he jumps to his feet.
“Is that enough personality for you? How’s that for spontaneity? Maybe you’d like to add that to your list of bullshit reasons for why you don’t want to be with me anymore. I’m done with the lies and the gaslighting and you constantly trying to make me feel like shit about myself. Don’t ever contact me again, Dell. I’m done with you.” For added measure, I knock his glass of wine over onto his plate of shrimp scampi as I walk away, rubbing the tears out of my eyes.
I hope he rots in hell for making me feel like this, and for dragging me along.
CHAPTER2
LAURA
It took practically no time at all to grab my things from the hotel and get in a taxi. It’s no surprise that Dell didn’t see me before I left. Maybe it’s the hopeless romantic in me, but I pictured him running up to the hotel or the airport to stop me, beg me to forgive him and take him back.
I may be a sweet college girl, but I’m not ditsy. I’ll show him. I’ll show the world that I’m more than just a dutiful girlfriend or dedicated student. I’m worth more than Dell gave me credit for.
Maybe I will learn Italian or maybe how to ride a motorcycle? I could pick up a new hobby every couple months until I find something that speaks to me more than just moving toward my career as a manuscript editor. It’s not like I’ll have Dell or our mutual friends to occupy my time.
I sit in the terminal, waiting for the next flight to San Francisco, which isn’t for another four hours, and decide to text whoever I need to.
I send a message to the group chat with Melinda and Carla, my two closest friends who are also friends with Dell.
Laura: Dell broke up with me. I’m at the airport waiting for my flight home.
I watch and wait for a response, but instead I see the text has been read by both of them, but no response comes through. Nothing…
Silence.
A tear falls down my face, knowing that my fears have been confirmed, and I delete the message thread before moving on to text my mom.
Laura: Hey, Mom. I’m heading home from Paris. I’m fine. I’m safe, but I’m disconnecting my phone. I’ll get a new one tomorrow. Love you.
I have a response almost immediately.
Mom: Okay, sweetheart. Be safe. I love you.
I can always count on my mom to answer when no one else will. I can’t burden her with this though. All it will do is upset her. I’ll tell her about the break-up when I feel better.
I shut down my phone before I stand up, walking over to the closest trash can, and I toss it in.
Here’s to the end of my life with Dell. Now is the beginning of the next chapter, the rest of my life.
I sit back in the seat I previously occupied and watch as people walk by with their suitcases and their loved ones, people from all walks of life, speaking different languages. It’s a soothing hobby of mine, analyzing the joy of others, but this time, I’m looking a bit deeper.
