Unthinkable

August***Part 5

Driving across town, my mind is flooded with images from the past year. Jake and Rucci fighting on stage during "The Crucible." Jake gruffly grabbing my arms when my uncontrollable Italian hand-gesturing flares up. Tiramisu being shoved in my mouth in New York. Bowing to me after they'd attacked Rucci. Jake getting kicked out of the game for pummeling the point guard from Woburn. The look in his eyes when his internal switch flipped. His backpack flying at the lighthouse in the rearview mirror.

I have to do this.

***

I arrive at Jake's house, approaching slowly, then decide to pull around to the side street. I normally park in the front, but I need a couple minutes to compose myself. And I don't want him to see me through the window. I don't want him to see me at all, until I'm ready.

I'm really going to do this.

Really.

I'm going to break up with Jake Matthews.

I'm crying. I haven't even gotten out of the car yet and I'm already crying. I've got to get this under control. Deep breath. And again. Again.

I wipe the tears that have formed in the corner of my eyes. I can't be all puffy and a mess when I go to the door. I check my reflection in the rear-view mirror. I haven't reached full ugly cry face yet. Just a little mascara run, I can deal with that. I clean up the smudge, then grasp the door handle to steady myself.

I grab my keys and then pause — do I bring my purse or not? No. I'd better leave it in the car, in case I need a quick getaway. I'll just lock the doors.

Okay. I'm doing this.

I get out of the car and shut the door. Its creak sounds louder than normal, as if it sympathizes with me. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm certain it's going to burst forth from my chest.

I hop the wall and walk across the side yard to the backdoor. The door is open behind the screen door. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"One second," Jake's dad yells from somewhere deep in the house. After a few seconds, he emerges from the hall, "Oh hi honey, come in. You know you don't have to knock." He waves me in, then yells down into the basement, "Jake, Sam's here."

I've made my way into the kitchen, but I'm hovering by the door. Not sure my feet are working any more.

"Come in. Come in honey. Make yourself comfortable. I've got to finish getting ready."  He gestures wildly, then disappears down the hall again.

I'm so focused on what I'm about to do, I forget to be embarrassed that the last time I actually SAW his dad, I was half-naked with his son on top of me.  For ninjas we haven not been to stealthy.  How things have changed. Now I'm about to destroy his little boy. Everything in this house seems different today. Smaller. Almost claustrophobic.

"Hey." Jake bounds up the stairs from the basement, while pulling a shirt over his head. "What are you doing here?" He crosses immediately to me and gives me quick kiss hello. "Come in, what are you doing standing in the doorway." Not so much a question as an acknowledgment that something is different. He senses it.

"I can't stay long." Okay, that's a good start. "Pen's waiting for me at the laundromat. Gizmo." He nods, familiar with Gizzy's fondness for my comforter and the dog's damn leaky bladder. "But I wanted to talk to you."

There it is. No avoiding this now.

I can feel my chest tighten and my breaths get shorter. It's out there. Settling over the space between us like a thick summer fog. I'm fiddling with my keys. I need to stop, but I can't. I need to channel this energy somewhere. He hasn't said a word — he's just staring back at me. He knows what's coming. I know he does. He's just trying to figure out whether or not I'll actually say it.