The Second Chapter

Pitiful- June 10, 2019

I only wanted a moment with you- a moment secluded from others, free of prying eyes, in hopes that maybe I would get a glimpse of you- the REAL you, the man I know and love- one more time. And also, I wanted some honesty. I really needed to find the truth among the rumors flying around my head like annoying gnats.

I thought I saw a glimpse of you when you grinned and sat opposite me, motioning to the puddle of water sitting stagnantly to the right of me on the bench I chose to curl up on as an explanation for the distance. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, and I was again met with a silent B, his only focus being the destruction of the hang nails accumulated on his fingers.

I had intended for the conversation to go more smoothly than it did- I had wracked my brain about what to say for hours before that moment, but every time I tried to produce something, I came up empty handed, with the default phrase "it's not your business" popping up shortly after the blank page in my mind. Because it's not. We're broken up. You don't want me or love me the same way you used to anymore, so your business is yours and yours alone. But if that's the case, then explain to me why when people told me about you and her disappearing into an empty bedroom, alone, it felt like cheating? Tell me why I couldn't help but convulse, dry heaves wracking my body as I leaned over the toilet waiting for food I had not consumed to come rushing back up? Tell me why this hurts as much as it does?

Somehow, I produced words, formed the question that had wracked my brain all night and day- all the while trying to maintain a steady sound to my voice, avoiding the warble that always precedes my tears. But soon enough, it was there, and I felt hot streaks running down my cheeks. You looked at me then, the pain in your eyes I saw that day in the car returned- but this time it had company, a look of annoyance, as you told me nothing happened. And in those moments, I felt a foreign feeling enter my chest: fear. I had never once experienced any true insecurity or fear in our relationship, but in those seconds as you stared across the grass at me with a look unlike any I had seen on your face before, I was terrified. This was truly it. Despite everything I had been giving you, despite all of the small niceties I had tried to incorporate into my days for you, I was still being met with a degree of malice. The look disappeared as quickly as it came but the terror lingered in my chest as I crossed the space between us, sobbing, and fell to my knees before you.

I had half a mind to stay there, submissive to you in every way but the one way you were asking me to be. The thought of ticks and spiders fleetingly crossed my mind but I didn't care if I contracted Lyme's, not if it meant I could walk away calling some small part of you mine. But you looked down at me, dejected and crying in the damp grass, and shook your head again and whispered my name. With a look as pained as the first time you said it, you muttered that you just couldn't do it anymore. That you didn't want to try any of the solutions I offered. That all you wanted was to be alone.

I shoved off the ground, looking down to my knees to see that small bites had already accumulated there, but I didn't care. That day in the car was happening all over again. I clenched my fists, looked around for anything real, anything to calm me, but the shallow breaths slipped in like a silent thief in the night, and before I could stop them or stop myself, I was reaching for you, clutching onto the hoodie you bought when we were together. I tried to pull you close- I wanted to feel your chest press against mine, just one more time. I needed you to calm me down one more time, if anything, just to reconfirm that the man I knew and spent a year of my life with still existed. But you did something that even my own head and heart had not been able to foretell- you grasped my arms in the same place I held onto you, and instead of pulling me close, you gently pushed me away.

I remember I looked up at you. You must have found pure anguish and agony in my eyes for the pained look you gave me in return, but still, you detached my hands from your hoodie and returned them to my sides. With one last glance in my direction, you took a step back, that one movement creating more space between us than when we had truly been oceans a part.

I collapsed on the stone bench, my world caving in for a third time. The sounds of rushing water and rustling leaves filled my ears like a loud roar, the only thing cutting through the noise was the sound of your voice whispering my name like a lullaby, "Jess, please", "Jess". I had managed a few stiches in my sullen heart in those few days we hadn't spoken, but all of that hard work went to waste in the seconds it took you to say you didn't feel the same anymore.

To your credit, as I lost myself in the pain again, a distant part of me took note of the fact that you looked torn when you said you had to go, as if some part of you was aching to comfort me like you had for the past 11 months. As if the sight of my tears was as unsettling that day as it was the first I bared them to you. But despite the pull, you still took another step back and motioned to the dinning hall, eyes dry and exasperation in your voice as you again said you had to go.

And in those moments, the anger everyone had been telling me to harness was set free. I stood up angrily pointing in the direction of the dinning hall.

"Go then!" I screamed, "Walk away for the third time! Turn your back on me again! Third time's a charm right? Maybe this time it'll actually stick, maybe this time I'll actually get it!".

You looked distraught. As if the woman yelling those words was someone you had never seen before. Some part of me chuckled at that look on your face, muttering, "Welcome to the club". A few seconds passed and I can't remember if I kept yelling or if I stood motionless, the angry expression on my face set in stone. All I remember is the look on your face. I don't know whether it was anger or pain or a lack of respect, and to be honest, I don't care. All that mattered was that you did turn your back on me, again, the third time, as I whimpered and pleaded to God, any God, to stop you. The words "No. Please, no" fell from my lips more times than I am willing to admit. But still, you continued on. Without a single glance back at me, you rounded the corner and disappeared from sight and something inside of me clicked, like a switch turning on for the first time after a light bulb has been replaced.

The man I knew and loved was truly dead and in his place was someone entirely different. Someone I didn't know at all.

I sat on that stone bench for some time as the emotions rolled over me again and again, as quickly and forcefully as the currents in the river in front of me, as fresh and painful as the first time. Nothing could ease the sting- not Georgia's warm embrace, not the sounds of laughing kids, nothing. Even your voice wouldn't have done the trick, as it was now the voice of someone I didn't know and would have set me on edge more than calmed me down.

I rocked back in forth, curling into myself, hoping to keep the pain from entering my chest, but it had already made its inhabitance and took up residence in the empty spot where my heart used to be. I remember whispering "I can't do this" over and over, like a broken record, and Georgia distantly consoling me that I didn't have to.

I had promised myself I would not fall a part like that again, but I was.

I had sworn I would stop torturing myself by seeking you out, but I couldn't.

I told myself years ago I would never get on my knees for anyone but the one person I truly found to be my equal.

I got on my knees for you, before you.

And still, you let me go.

And still, I would do it again.

A moment of weakness. A moment gone wrong. A moment that I did not want to be full of begging, but was.

A moment of everything I had told myself I would avoid. But did anyways.

Pitiful.

I fall apart for you.

Loose all rationale for you.

Pitiful.