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I’m in a café, and I’ve been in New York for three days. I’m staying at a hotel. I don’t start work until next week but I just had to get out of San Fran… away from him.
The dust has settled, and the tears have stopped. I’m getting angry now.
How could he do this to me?
I thought after he read the letter that things would work out, or I would at least hear from him for closure. I was sure the letter explained everything: my thoughts and hopes and dreams for us. My undying love for him and how much I cherished what we had.
I thought he would have called, if not as a lover, but as the best friend he’s always been. Nathan has always been my biggest supporter, the friend who loved me through anything.
Except his own pride, apparently.
Is he okay? What if something has happened to him?
Stop it. Stop worrying about him.
I called Alex the day I left. I explained that we had broken up and asked him to watch over Nathan for me. He promised me he would, but is he?
Is Alex looking after him? My stomach twists. I know that nobody looks after Nathan as well as I do.
He needs me.
But then I remember that maybe he doesn’t, maybe this is his ticket out. And just maybe, he’s happy that I left. I let my mind go to the dark place it likes to visit at 3 a.m. and I wonder if he’s called Robert. He called him as a friend for all these years, yet he can’t even check in on me now.
I’m alone in a city where he knows that I know nobody.
It hurts to realize that he doesn’t care, and even if he does, he’s too proud to call me anyway.
I fear the worst for us, I thought he would’ve called me by now and we would talk and work this out without being blinded by each other. I thought that once sex was taken off the table, he would be forced to open up to me. I honestly believed that he would need to look at things through my eyes.
Guess I was wrong.
The more time that passes, the sadder I get.
I thought the day I left San Fran was the worst day and that it couldn’t possibly get any worse. I was wrong. Losing a little more faith in someone every day is insidious.
The toxic poison of lost dreams and hopes is seeping into my bones.
The taste of disappointment runs through my veins.
I’m questioning everything: who I am, who he is, if he ever loved me. Perhaps I imagined the whole thing because no one could ever be this cold to someone they truly cared about. Ten years together, and now it’s like we never existed.
I didn’t just lose my love. That would be bearable. That would be recoverable. I lost my best friend. I lost a part of myself. My identity as a person has somehow been altered. I need to get it back because I don’t want to live in a world where my best friend doesn’t care.
A man comes into the café carrying a bunch of roses, and he orders a coffee. He’s in a suit and looks professional.
I watch him wit
h a sad smile. Are those for his wife? Is it their anniversary? I watch him talking and laughing with the cashier. He seems so happy.
I blink to stop the tears. I would give anything to feel happy again.
I’m sick of fucking crying.
I’ve been doing it for nine days now since this all began.
This isn’t who I am.
Nathan
