June 26, 2003
Call her, a voice urged me. You have to call her, she's worried sick. But I left my phone sitting where it was on the table in front of me. She called every night, when she was sure I was off work. She knew my schedule better than I did. It had been two weeks since Mina had left, two weeks since I'd last held her in my arms. I missed her more than I could even begin to express.
So if I missed her so damn much, why hadn't I picked up the phone yet?
The night she'd left, I'd promised we could make it work. I wasn't afraid of a long distance relationship. I was afraid of the consequences for her. She was eighteen, about to start college, about to begin a new chapter in her life. What kind of future did she have with me? I was going to turn thirty-five this year, for God's sake.
Maybe it was for the best that she didn't keep loving me. There was no future for her with me. Maybe it would be better if I broke things off cleanly and just let her live her life in California. I was just another reminder of her life in Spokane, a life that had not been good to her.
A brief flash of what we might look like in ten years crossed my mind: two bitter adults who'd realized that their relationship was built on a mutual need for stability and hated each other now. I had to do everything I could to keep that from happening, to keep her from getting trapped in a dead end relationship.
This was the best, no, the only course of action. We would break it off and she could fall in love with someone her own age and get married and have a load of children and live a good life. No matter how much I needed her, no matter how much I loved her, this was what was best for her.
The phone in front of me began to buzz, the California area code telling me it was Mina trying again. I swiped at the hot tears threatening to spill out of my eyes with the back of my hand. I wanted so badly to pick up the phone, but what would I say when I did? What could I say? 'I'm sorry Mina but we need to break up'? Could I listen to her cry and scream at me without losing my resolve? Maybe it would be easier over the phone when I didn't have to see her face.
This was going to hurt her so badly. I knew it would. The way she'd cried just having to physically leave me was enough to make me certain of that fact. It was breaking my heart to just think about this. Mina was the only thing holding me together. How far would I fall when I lost her?
The amber bottle in my hand reminded me how far I'd already fallen. Just a few drinks, and then I would be done. Just enough to take the edge off the pain. Maybe this would be a good time to talk to her, when my tongue was loosened by alcohol. Then I could drink until I forgot the conversation. No, that wouldn't be right. She'd be disappointed if she knew I was drinking but it would be even worse if I ended things while I was drunk.
I didn't even think I could end things over the phone. It was just going to be too painful for both of us and I probably wouldn't be able to say it. I'd lose my nerve halfway through and then we'd end up dragging this out until it killed both of us.
Maybe I'd write her a letter. No, her parents might find it and then we'd really be in trouble. I wasn't particularly concerned about her father pressing charges against me; from what Mina had told me, he didn't want to put her through the trial proceedings and making her testify against me. I just didn't know how he would react to finding a letter from me. He didn't seem like the type to take it out on Mina, physically or verbally, but I didn't want to find out. Besides, I didn't know their address.
There was no way to do this without hurting both of us, except...I didn't even want to think about that option. It seemed almost too cruel to never speak to her again and force her to figure it out herself. And yet, maybe it was the cleanest way to do it. There would be no uncomfortable phone conversation, no trying to convince her that this was the best way, no pleas to reconsider. Maybe I just wanted to be selfish and not have to break her heart in person.
I wondered if I would change anything if I could go back to last July. Would I have punched myself in the face to keep from kissing her that day in the back room? Would I have stopped any of what happened? I wasn't sure if I wanted to. Loving Mina had probably saved my life. Without her pushing me to get help, I probably wouldn't be so close to recovery, present blood alcohol content excluded. She was beautiful and kind and sweet and loving and losing her would be like cutting off my right hand. But I had to be the strong one and let her go. This was what was best for both of us.
The phone began to ring again and I tossed it across the room. It skidded across the floor, landing in the corner. In the morning I would change my phone number. That would probably be enough to show her that things were over between us, as cold and callous as it was.
I loved her, but I had to love her enough to let her go.
