I Don't Love You

Take a Sad Song and Make it Better

Day Ten

On the last day of the trip, I sit alone in the cafe. My suitcase is packed, resting by my feet, as I poke at a cold pancake on the plate in front of me. The past few days have been quiet. Bob and Mikey kept their distance, just as I asked, though Bob sent room service to me at one point with an apology pie. I ate the pie and continued to ignore Bob.

Gerard seemed distant, too. I saw him with his friends, smoking outside the hotel. He caught my eye, but didn't say anything. I kept walking and he kept smoking and it occurred to me; we really were strangers. Not friends, not enemies, just... two people who didn't know each other.

I look up from my half-eaten breakfast when someone slides into the chair across from me. Ms. Herman smiles. "Frank! Hi. Wow, I feel like I haven't see you at all this week. How was the trip?"

I take a bite of pancake just to have something to do, chewing slowly. It's sticky and dry when I swallow. "It was... umm... eventful."

Herman grimaces. "Nobody complained, so I guess rooming with Gerard went okay?"

I shrug. "We argued a lot," I admit. "But we didn't kill each other."

She throws her arms up victoriously. "So it was successful! No murder! Nobody got arrested. I'd say it was a decent trip." She leans back in her chair with a sigh. "I wish it didn't have to end, but I'm pretty excited to go home. How about you? Do you think you'll miss it here?"

I think that over. Will I miss the city? It's beautiful, loud, buzzing with excitement. But overall, it's a lot to handle.

What is it that they say? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. I wish that were true. I'd leave all my emotional baggage here. I'd leave behind the fake marriage and Bob's betrayal. I could leave all of it here and go back home feeling weightless.

But I can't do that. I can't leave my emotions here and I can't go home. I'm not even sure if I have a home at this point.

Eventually I shake my head. "I won't miss this."

Herman cocks her head to the side. "Not even a little bit?"

Across the room, I can see Bob eating alone. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. I want to talk to him, I want to tell him I forgive him, but I can't. Not yet. Because along with the longing to talk to my best friend, there's a pit of anger in my stomach that twists every time I see his stupid face. If we hadn't come on this stupid trip, we never would have fought. I would still have a best friend. So I look down at my pancake, glaring at it like it's the cause of this whole mess of emotions in me. "No, I won't miss this." I tell Ms. Herman. "Not even a little bit.

The flight seems longer than last time. Maybe it's because I spend the time alone, awake, analyzing everything that's happened in my eighteen years of life. I start back when Gerard and I became friends in middle school. I recall the times we sat in his bedroom sharing comics and cheetos and stolen cigarettes.

Then I think of the years we spent hating each other.

The weeks I spent sleeping on a bench when my parents kicked me out.

I think of meeting Bob, when his parents took me in and became my new family. When Bob became my best and only friend. And how he, too, betrayed me.

He sits next to me quietly, staring blankly at some movie playing. I don't think he's actually watching it. After two hours of silence, I flick him in the arm.

Bob looks hopeful when he turns to face me.

"I'm still not talking to you," I inform him. "But... I do have one question."