Punk Louis Series

"You Break Up"

"Where are you going?" You question from the couch, already knowing he was going out to party. "It's Michael's birthday today, so the Club is throwing him a party at the stadium." "Have fun," you tell him reluctantly, not wanting to fight again about his disappearing act every night. It wasn't Michael's birthday though. You knew this because his wife Lisa had called you just one day prior asking for last minute ideas for the party she was having for his birthday 'in two weeks'. You had only confronted him about his lies once and the shit storm that followed was always the reminder to never bring anything like that up again. Instead you watched him leave, every night, with no idea where he was actually going. The guys on the team had assured you many times that he wasn't cheating and that he was out with them most of the time. The team liked to party, you had been made aware of that fairly early into your relationship. You used to accompany him to the parties but soon got tired of seeing the same intoxicated faces every night. Louis' lying started only a few months ago but you dealt with it. If he wasn't cheating, what was the worse he was getting into? You knew the answer to this could end up pretty bad but just like the lying you looked past it. The continuous trying to forgive and forget every night wore you down though. He had a lot of balls to look you dead in the eyes and tell you something that wasn't true. You hated him for being able to do that. It wasn't like he was fooling you, but more himself. How could he be so stupid to think that you were so ignorant to his nightly whereabouts? You get up from the couch once you hear the garage door open and his Porsche start up. Nothing was stopping you from walking up the stairs to the bedroom at this point, you actually wanted to go. You bend down beside the bed and pull out your vacation suitcase. You wouldn't be going on vacation this time. You meander around the room almost in a daze, grabbing everything you thought you needed to survive until you could come back with something bigger to put everything else in. This didn't seem extreme to you, you should have done it sooner even. Leaving Louis was the right thing to do. You drag the bulging suitcase down the stairs and to the kitchen table. You leave the luggage at the table and go into the office to find a piece of paper and a pen. Sitting down at the table the words you need to use to say 'goodbye' come easily: 'You treated me better than I will ever deserve, that is except for all of your lies. I don't know why you did that. Please know that I spent every second of every day loving you more than the last.' You sign it with only the stain of the tear that fell as you read your words back one last time. You get up from the table only to collapse back into the chair. Walking out the door was going to be one of the hardest things you ever had to do. But you had to do it. You stand up and firmly place your feet on the floor. You had to walk out the door. You pull your suitcase to your side, starring at the door as if it were your worst enemy. Your feet trudge forward and once you make it to the door you don't hesitate to open it. You slowly step into the garage and turn to look at the row of keys hanging up. You look past the Mercedes keys that went to the car he had bought you to drive around, instead you grab the keys hanging on the end. These were your original keys, the ones that went to the apartment your best friend still lived in, the one you were heading to now. It also went to the Mini Cooper parked at the far end of the garage, it hadn't been driven in months. After putting your bag in the hatch you sit in the driver's seat for only a moment before starting up your car. You pull slowly out of the garage and make sure the door closes all the way back before you pull off. Once off of the property you are relieved at the decision you had just made. Even though it was hard you couldn't take Louis' lying anymore. Your old apartment welcomes you warmly. Your old bed was just as welcoming, it felt like little had changed in the many months you had been gone. You sit on the couch, discussing the situation you had just left with your best friend only to be interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. "Where are you?" He asks, unsure of exactly what the letter in his hand meant for the relationship. "Gone," you reply before hanging up, feeling that was more than what he deserved from you at this point.