Chasing the Boy

Chapter Four

Planning the breakup wasn't the highpoint of my summer, nor was it a shining example of my good character. It was something I dreaded doing, so I avoided the situation. I was a chicken – I hate to admit it, but it's true.

Three days passed until I could no longer ignore the issue. A group of us was going to Ali's family cabin in New Hampshire - a couples' weekend. I should have taken care of it before the trip; there was no excuse for my cowardice. The mere thought of what I was going to do made me sick. I was going to break up with Jake on our couples' weekend away. What a bitch.

Usually, the ride up to the cabin seemed endless, but this time it couldn't be long enough. I'd avoided driving up with Jake by hopping into Kate's packed car. There was only room for the two of us because the back seat was piled high with everyone's gear. Jake drove up with Fred and Nicky and he watched as Kate's car pulled away. I felt horrible because, while I was relieved not to be driving with him, I knew that he was disappointed.

Kate pulled onto the highway and accelerated to seventy miles an hour. I almost asked her to slow down. Settling back into my seat, I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. I took a sip of my coffee, but it didn't sit right.

"I don't mean to be critical," she said in an apologetic tone of voice. I groaned. I was about to get one of Kate's famous lectures. Sometimes she was worse than my mother. "But, don't you think you should have driven up with Jake? I mean, it would have given you two hours to talk about things, to explain things... It's a hell of a lot nicer than dumping him once we're up there."

"Geez, thanks Kate," I said, staring out the window. "Don't you think I've thought about this? I feel crummy enough about what I'm going to do." I paused and stared sullenly out the window.

" Maybe you're right," I went on. "But I couldn't have driven up with him. It would've been uncomfortable and awkward; we would've been trapped in the car with each other. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I broke up with him in the car, he wouldn't want to be stuck next to me for a two hour drive."

Kate kept her eyes on the road, but I could tell that the look on her face was disapproving. "I just don't think you've handled this situation the right way."

"What are you, my conscience?" I demanded.

"Hey," she said, defensively. "Don't get all huffy and puffy with me. There's only one person to blame and that's you."

I sat in silence for a moment, thinking about Kate's words. They were no surprise to me – I did blame myself. I guess I'd been hoping for a little support from my friends. Even when we make mistakes, we want and need people to stand by us. That's all I wanted.

"Are you mad?" she asked in a kinder tone. I'd been quiet for too long.

I continued to look out the window. "Yes," I said. "But not at you. I'm mad at myself. I should have told him days ago. I probably shouldn't have gone out with him in the first place. I'm such a jerk."

We were quiet then. Kate didn't rush to tell me I was wrong, that I wasn't a huge ass for breaking poor Jake's heart, and I didn't try to make any excuses for my actions. I was trapped with my feelings of self-loathing and self-pity and beginning to wish I'd stayed home for the weekend.

We arrived two hours later. Kate and I got there first; we quickly unpacked and let ourselves in the front door. I threw my bags down in one of the guest rooms and fell onto the bed while Kate moved from room to room, checking things out. I normally would have helped, but I was feeling too badly for myself. I knew it was a matter of minutes before the others arrived. Then, it was judgment day.