It Began Abroad

The Breakup

I don't know what it is about teenagers. I am aware that our feelings are multiplied by hormones and that maybe we don't even know how the real world works, but if I am certain of something, it's that I don't appreciate this asshole here telling me, "You're too young to feel overwhelmed with life." What does he know about my life? And what do I know about life itself? I guess I just know how it feels to live it in this exact moment, and he cannot tell me that it's not overwhelming because I am pretty sure that what I am about to do won't bring joy to anyone.

We are hanging out at a friend's house, and we are here because I needed a place so I could break up with Lenny. How awful is that? But honestly, what was I supposed to do? We don't drive yet; we don't get to decide when to do anything. This is a relatively small town, but nothing is at walking distance, and the public transportation is just too dangerous right now. We don't get to live in the safe, good times of this city.

Also, it would suck to break up in a public place; I hate arguing in public. I think it's just too humiliating, and I have no intentions of humiliating this guy—or any guy for that matter. So the other option was to break up with him in either of our houses. I pictured it perfectly in my head. Me breaking up with him five minutes after his mom dropped him off, then him calling her to pick him up because we broke up, joined with a super awkward moment in between, and a dreadful look from his mother's side. Not a chance. And at his house? Sure, "Hey come on in!" he'd say excited as he always is, then we would sit in his living room, he'd offer me something to drink, I'd take water, then I'd drop the bomb, he'd raise his voice, and all of his family would listen to our breakup. Then, feeling bad with myself, I'd call my mom to pick me up, and I'd wait for her there, ashamed and with a lot of guilt. Yeah, right.

I called Ricky last night. He knows us both well, and we talked for over an hour trying to figure out the best way to do it. He's in the same situation as I am. I think it's worse for him because he actually loves her, but he's not in love with her anymore—he doesn't want her anymore. After talking it over, we both decided that it was best if we broke up with them. Thus the breakup plan: breaking up somewhere where he could stay overnight in case he didn't want to go home, somewhere where we could talk without anyone listening, and somewhere where I could run away from after I do it without too much waiting time.

So here we are, and it's time.

"Hey, can we go outside for a bit?" I ask Lenny.

"Why?" He looks a little bit suspicious.

"Umm, just to walk."

Our friend lives in a big neighborhood. There's plenty of space to walk. We've been walking for ten minutes, and he seems nervous. Maybe he can tell that I'm freaking out or something. I don't know how to do this; he's my first boyfriend. I've never broken up with anyone before. How do I even . . . ?

"What's going on Mia?"

"I don't know how to do this," I slowly say.

"What are you talking about?"

"Us. We are not working. I'm sorry, I really am, I don't know what happened, I just don't feel the same anymore, I . . . "

"Please don't, just don't do this. We agreed we were breaking up when you got on the plane! You're not leaving yet! Why do you want to leave me now!?"

Great, I'm crying. This is too much; he's hurting—I'm hurting a guy that has done nothing but to try to make me happy.

"I am sorry, Lenny." My voice is breaking, and now he's crying, too.

"Why? Since when?"

"I don't know, a few weeks ago," I lie. I am not telling him that it's been months.

"I had one more month. I had one more month with you!" he says crying.

Shit, this is killing me. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I mean, I have no idea how it was supposed to go, but not like this. I didn't expect sobs on either side. I didn't expect to feel guilty like this, and I didn't expect it to last this long. I want to go home. Convenient, because my ride home is leaving right now.

"I have to go—I'm catching a ride home with Audrey, and they are leaving now."

"Can you at least kiss me goodbye?"

He did not just say that. Kiss him? Man, that's the last thing I want to do right now! But he's hurting and sobbing, and I am responsible for this.

"Um . . . yeah, I guess."

He leans forward and kisses me.

"I need to go, Lenny. I am really sorry."

I shouldn't have done this. Why on earth did I agree to kiss him goodbye? I am absolutely certain that goodbye kisses are the worst kind of kisses . . . ugh.

"So this is it then? We're done?"

"Goodbye, Lenny. I really am sorry."

* * *

I get home at last, and I feel . . . relieved? Is this the right feeling? I guess it is because I'm not in pain. I'm glad it's over, right? What a horrible human being I am.