Dear Future Husband

December 16, 2018

Dear Future Wife,

I promise I will try not to blow up again.

I think I got it all out.

So at the moment, I'm not furious, but I am pissed.

I just want my stuff back.

But Clarissa won't open the door.

I guess I should probably tell you what happened, minus the caps and excessive cussing.

After Sam told me that Brad was talking about fucking Clarissa in the locker room, I decided to go clear the air with her about it-- you know, be a good boyfriend and let my girlfriend know that rumors were being spread about her. When I told her what I had heard she proceeded to yell at me and get all hostile because I had brought it up, which at that point I knew something was going on.

"Did you fuck Brad Nyles?" I had asked her.

"I don't want to talk about it, get out of my face." She scoffed, making her way into the girls bathroom.

"Clarissa," I hissed, grabbing her arm.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She screamed.

I let go immediately, the last thing I wanted to do was make myself look like the bad guy. "Clarissa, if you don't tell me what happened and why Brad is saying that he fucked you, then we're done."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "If I tell you, we will be done anyway, so I guess that doesn't really change anything does it?" She turned into the forcefield of the girls bathroom where I couldn't reach her.

I stood for a moment, thinking about what she had just said to me.

If I tell you, then we will be done anyway.

I felt sick to my stomach.

I felt humiliated.

I felt betrayed.

I felt angry.

I shouted into the bathroom for a good twenty minutes, hot tears stinging my eyes, but never falling. She never responded to anything. After all she had put me through, I at least deserved an explanation. I deserved even the smallest shred of respect despite having all of it stolen from me flushed down the drain.

"It's over!" I finished pathetically, trying to make myself feel like I had even a little bit of power.

If she wasn't going to give me respect, I could at least have my stuff back.

I've been sitting on her front step for an hour now, and she hasn't answered. I promised myself I would be cordial-- unlike how I behaved outside the bathroom-- and went up to the door at first and rang the doorbell. I heard the familiar tread of her careless steps down the stairs as she approached the door and opened it a bit.

"Hi-" I had started before she slammed the door in my face.

"Seriously?!" I said loudly, not quite a shout, but loud enough so she could hear that I was appalled at her rude gesture. "Look, you don't have to talk to me, I think you've firmly established that you don't plan on talking to me at all, and I've come to expect that, but you owe me my sweatshirt, hat, Beats, spare charger, and chemistry textbook." I waited for a few minutes with no response. "Fine, keep all of it but the textbook because I seriously need that back." Still no response. "Clarissa, please, I'm not leaving until I get it."

Which brings us here, to me sitting on her doorstep, with the occasional plea for my belongings just to let her know I was still here. It's been almost a week since we broke up and she still didn't have the decency to show me a little respect. I understand that I blew up on her, but I had finally cooled down and even sent her some apology texts for how I had behaved, only to get "Read 2:16 pm" in return.

I was just about to give up and leave when I noticed a familiar girl turn and walk up the driveway.

She looked surprised and confused to see me, looking around to make sure that it wasn't some sort of trick.

I knew it was Clarissa's sister, she was at every awkward family dinner I attended and she had carpooled to school with me and Clarissa most mornings, so I felt like a dick for not remembering her name.

"Um, hey Grant." She said uneasily, obviously wondering why I was sitting on her doorstep.

I jumped up and cleared the way of the door, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. "Hey, uh, Ally," I said carefully, trying to keep the doubt from my voice. The ever puzzled look on her face led me to believe that I had gotten her name wrong, and I mentally slapped myself, the impact shooting her correct name from my mouth. "Alina, I'm sorry I promise I know your name, I just, uh, blanked for a second there."

"It's ok," She laughed a little, amused, but still eyeing me with concern. "So... Um..."

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry you probably want to know why I'm sitting at your doorstep." I continued to mentally slap myself for being such a dumbass.

"I mean, I'm definitely curious."

By the expectant and understanding look on her face and the fact that she wasn't just ignoring me, I could tell that Clarissa obviously hadn't told her about us yet, and that made me hopeful. Maybe I could still fix the relationship. No, I had to stop myself from continuing to feel that way. It was over. This was the final straw. I deserved more than what she had to offer. "I don't know what Clarissa has told you but-"

"Oh." She blinked at me a few times, immediately understanding what I was getting at. "Ok."

"Yeah." I looked down at my feet, taking a deep breath.

"So," She said quietly. "You're here...?"

I looked back up at her, awkwardly sticking my hands in my pocket. "To get my stuff back, and she won't open the door so I think that, uh, I'm just going to..." I motioned to the street. "Yeah... Sorry to bother you-"

"No, it's fine, I get it," She said, slipping her key into the door. "I know how Clarissa can be and I can let you in if you want-"

As tempting as the idea of making her upset was, it was probably best that I didn't. "No, you don't have to do that, but if you could pass along the message... Maybe keep an eye out..."

"Of course," I noticed as she turned her key in the door that her cheeks had long, thin streaks of discolored skin surrounded by obvious layers of concealer and she sniffled every now and then. "Anything I should look out for?"

I pretended not to notice that she had been crying, I figured we both didn't need to be interrogated about the reasons of our actions today. "That would be great, she has a white Hollister sweatshirt of mine, red Beats headphones... You know what don't worry about those, what I really need is my chemistry textbook-"

She looked down awkwardly at her feet and I could tell that wasn't a good sign. "I'm sorry, but she threw those out five days ago."

Are you kidding me? "Even the textbook?"

She pressed her lips together and nodded solemnly. "I found them all charred in the trashcan and assumed she had a bonfire accident or something."

"There goes eighty bucks." I muttered to myself. "Thanks for helping me out, I really appreciate it."

She smiled at me, opening the door as a "Don't let him in!" Rang from upstairs. "Of course." She turned to go inside with one last sniffle and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

Before she disappeared inside, I offered her a warm crumpled up tissue from my pocket. "It looks like you could use it."

As awkward and kind of gross the gesture was despite the tissue being clean, she smiled and accepted it. "Thanks." She said with one last sniffle, her bright, sad eyes never breaking contact with mine as the door closed between us.

Through the shitstorm I've been through this week, it's nice to know that someone was there to help me out.

-Grant