Getting Her Back

Christian sits up, and reaches for his clothes. He doesn’t even act as if he’s heard my question.

“Christian?”

Nothing. Not even a look in my direction.

“You never called me. You never spoke to me. Never even tried. I just…I need to know.”

The muscles in his shoulders are tense, but he shrugs his shirt on and doesn’t turn.

“Please,” I say, and it’s weak.

I give up after that. Christian finishes dressing and leaves without a word. My helplessness and rage grow with each second, until I hear the door to the apartment close behind him. I let out a cry of rage, and just as quickly my eyes are welling with tears. Why? Why won’t he just tell me what he’s thinking? We used to tell each other everything until that night. And now it’s like that one thing will always be between us.

This was a mistake. It was all a stupid, horrible mistake. I let myself get in too deep with him again. I didn’t mean to open my heart to him again, but I did. I let myself fall into this trap. It was so easy to pretend that everything was the same, even though it wasn’t. How could I be this stupid?

I don’t do anything but lay there, letting the tears pour down the sides of my face and into my hair, soaking the blanket beneath my head. It hurts. My heart. I remember this pain, an echo of that night three years ago. It’s not quite as bad—because nothing will ever be that bad again—but it still hurts. An ache in my chest that makes it hard to breathe, makes me want to curl up into a ball and never move.

One thing’s certain. I can’t do this anymore. If he can’t tell me why he wants to do this, or why he left in the first place, I can’t do it. It’s too hard, and it’s not worth the pain. I’ll find another way to have a child. Having a baby is the thing I want most in this world, followed closely by wanting to be an artist. I’m not going to let the creation of my child be poisoned by this pain. I don’t want the reminder of the man I lost not once but twice.

I swipe the tears from my eyes and get up. I can’t be here anymore, and I don’t care if it hasn’t been long enough for the sperm to travel. It doesn’t matter if I get pregnant tonight. I hope I don’t.

I get my things, and leave.

I don’t look back.

17

I didn’t talk to anyone on Saturday. I mostly stayed in bed, only getting up to get food and use the bathroom. It’s the weekend, I can afford to take a day to be depressed about this. But apparently I’m not a good enough liar, and Sunday afternoon Ellen is banging on my door demanding to be let in.

I go to the door and I don’t hold back on my worst glare when I open it. “Yes?” I ask impatiently.

“Oh, so you are alive,” she says. “I was wondering.”

“Of course I’m alive,” I say as she pushes past me into the apartment. “I don’t answer your texts for one day and you assume I died?”

“Basically, yeah.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“I know. You love that about me.”

Going into the kitchen, I get a glass of water, mumbling to myself that I do not, in fact, love Ellen right nw.

“What happened?”

I brush past her and go to the living room. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do,” she says. “You look like shit, you’re holed up in your apartment, and you’re not talking to anyone.”

“Maybe I just need some alone time, Ellen,” I snap.

She sighs, flopping onto the couch. “You do realize that I’ve known you long enough to see through all this bullshit?”

I feel tears stinging my eyes and I look away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say thickly.

Ellen pats the couch beside her and I sit, resting my head on her shoulder. It only takes a couple of minutes for the tears to come, and then I’m soaking her shirt with them, crying harder than I can remember in a long time. I’m not sure how long it takes me to cry myself out, but when I do, Ellen hands me a tissue.

“Sure you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Fuck off,” I say.

She laughs. “Spill it.”

And so I do. I tell her everything from when I realized I was falling for him again to last night when he broke my heart a second time. I almost start crying again, but I manage to hold it together. It’s almost the time I would be heading over there now. But I’m not going. If I don’t ever see him again, that would be fine with me.