Hermosa

A Conversation Between Acquaintances (Part 3)

Someone's Apartment Part 1

(Someone is sitting on a couch beside Jules. The television is muted, lighting the room softly.)

Jules: When we first started hanging out, everything was pretty casual. I mean, I ki-kind of had the feeling that he had a crush on me I [pauses], I kind of ignored that. Ya know, like I –again, I couldn't even think about being in a relationship. It was way too much still even that several months later. Like [scoffs, pauses], let me sum it up. Let me put this into a picture for you [swallows].

(Jules straightens her back against the couch and fixes her eyes on the space above the television, which is white all except for one large concert poster who's color and content aren't important.)

Jules: My ex-boyfriend that February – I had this idea that that guy had been the love of my life. Ya know, as cliché as that sounds, that's what I really thought. I [pauses, searches the white space], I had never really confronted him about what happened while the woman was staying with him, the woman from Kansas. Um, I didn't wanna know. Ya know, I just, ya know, i-in my mind I trusted him so much so that I was willing to completely, unconsciously even, blind myself to what was going on during that time. Ya know, before she came he'd just say, "We've been friends for so many years, and we couldn't really get to know each other before because I was married to a jealous woman. We've always wanted to meet in person, so we're going to meet in person and she's gonna stay here." [takes a few short breaths]

(Jules's voice often sounds breathless. She speaks like a balloon that is rapidly being depleted, and as she does, her voice scratches.)

Jules: I didn't even ask where she slept. That's how completely blind I wanted to be. Ya know, eh, part of me wanted to be like, "Is she gonna sleep in the living room on the couch? [laughs] I hope so." [laughs harder] I didn't even ask that. The first day that she was there, I got really frantic and I was more than a little upset that we weren't all going to meet up for dinner or something. But really, as crazy as this sounds [face becomes serious] I st-still somehow couldn't grasp that my boyfriend was cheating on me [sips water from an owl-shaped mug, returns to watching the white space]. So the breakup happened, the night in the car, all that stuff and I just shut down. I-I-I couldn't eat. I dropped down to like a hundred and seventeen pounds. I, tsk, I had this idea that he was just gonna like come back and apologize. Eh, foof, he'd just come back and we would pretend nothing had happened and move on. Then he didn't call, and he didn't respond to text messages. Sometimes I would send him e-mails like these long, drawn out letters talking about like how I felt and wanting to know what happened. He wouldn't respond. Even as the months kept going by, I-I um, I would still send an e-mail once every couple of weeks; turned into once a month, turned into once every two months. 'nd I stopped asking questions, and I stopped making accusations. I reached a point at which I'd just, um, tell him what was going on in my life that day. I would write a letter that just said ya know, um, I don't know. Like [growls] uh, "I started working at the mall, and me and my friends have been going out to eat Mexican on Fridays." [laughs] Ya know, who knows, it would just be like your basic every day stuff just to, just to let him know that I was still thinking about him – that he was still the person I wanted to share the most mundane things with. I wanted him to know that I wanted to know how he was doing. A lot of times, I stopped asking, "How are you?" Sometimes I was just sending out a signal, a statement – just a "Here I am, and here's what's going on, and I'm still alive." And I really think that that was the point not just for him, but for myself, was to be reminded that life was still continuing regardless. But also that he was still on my mind. Um, does that make sense? That I wanted to [catches breath] let the world know that I'm still alive, but also [dry sniff] make it clear that I'm still stuck [laughs] in this desire, this want. You could even say that I was looking for validation maybe. Like, "If he comes back, that means I'm important right? If he comes back and says, 'I love you, and you're the important one and you're the one I want to be with'." Isn't that just some, tsk, search for validation of-of your own importance? [voice becomes quieter] It's kind of sad when you really think about it like that, but it's – it's [sigh], I'd be lying if I said it weren't true. [voice becomes louder again] I felt worthless. I felt like I never mattered, and that I wasn't important enough and that I was disposable. I think disposable is really the big word here because [swift inhalation] I had been thrown away essentially [exhales]. I was someone that, y'know, made him feel good about himself for a while, 'nd h-he had often made comments about like how he felt taller and stronger when he was around me because I let him feel that way. Really I felt used, once I started to realize what had actually happened. But back to the time frame that we were originally talking about, the months in 2012 when I was sending e-mails, I wasn't thinking about the reasons. Ya know, I wasn't outright thinking about being disposed of or needing validation or anything. I was just thinking, "I have to get this back. I've been feeding off of this feeling of love that I have for this person, and I have to get this back."

(Her hands have been becoming progressively busier; waving, drawing lines in the air, going palm up to wag fingers.)

Jules: [heavy sigh] During that time I tried making new friends, and I tried talking to people. I was going out more than I ever had when I was in college. You know, I was going to have dinner with all of these new people that I'd met. There were so many new people to do things with, but in the back of my mind, it was always him. I would just be walking around with this thought of him floating around in the back of my mind. Every conversation that I had, every piece of clothing that I folded, every customer that I helped – there was always this nagging sensation of, "This person that I miss is missing."