Biker's Virgin
"This, Veronica," I said. I never called her by he
r full name, and I could see the effect it had on her. She stopped looking confused and started looking scared.
"What?"
"The two of us. It's not working anymore. I want to break up." I hated how steady my voice sounded lying to her like that. That was what it was, another fucking lie. I loved the shit out of this girl, but I had to make her believe that I didn't. I had to push her away, and I had to do whatever I had to in order to make her see that we couldn't work anymore.
"Break up? What are you talking about, Roman? Why?"
"You wanted to know why I've been distant lately." She looked hurt.
"Did I do something?" she asked. No, I thought. You're perfect, but that's why I have to let you go.
"It's been almost three years. We're different people now, Veronica."
"Where is this coming from?" she asked. "I thought we were on the same page. When did you start feeling like this?"
"That doesn't make a difference. I can't be with you anymore."
"You asked me to come here with you just so you could tell me this?"
"I thought you deserved more than a text," I snapped. She stood suddenly. Good, leave, I thought. Don't drag it out anymore.
"You thought I deserved more than a text? How fucking kind of you, Roman. You still haven't told me anything. This is totally out of left field – where is this coming from?" she stopped herself, looking at me. "Is there someone else?"
"At least I'm telling you before you found out yourself," I said spitefully. Her face drained. She blinked a few times, her eyes filling with tears. Everything in my body was telling me to go to her, hug her and make it stop. I was hurting her, but I had to do it. What she would feel waiting for me to come back from deployment would be much worse. It was for her own good.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "You're lying to me."
"Maybe I should have just sent you a fucking text," I spat.
"Why are you being so cruel?" Her tears flowed down her cheeks.
"It's over, Veronica. I shouldn't have to spell it out for you."
"What did I do?" Her voice was small and empty.
"Nothing. I'm not going to ask you to be my friend because that's just insulting. I just don't want to be with you anymore."
"What is it? Why? Am I holding you back?"
"Don't put words in my mouth, Veronica. I didn't fucking want this. I wanted this to be easy, and clean." I swallowed, the words didn’t want to come out of my throat. “I don’t love you anymore.” I practically heard it break, shatter, the last two and a half years together, in love and happy. I had just destroyed it.
"Easy and clean? The person you've loved for years suddenly telling you they're done with you? How the hell could that ever be clean?" She reached down for her backpack and started angrily towards the door.
"I'll send your shit over to your apartment," I said, not turning to look at her.
"No. Don't. That would be asking way too much. Just throw it out, I don't care. You can stop pretending that you do, too. But you know what? Thanks for telling me. Now I don’t have to lie to myself that any of this has been real." I heard the door open and slam closed. I was alone. I let out a ragged breath and felt my body unclench.
It was over. I had done it. Broken up with the girl I had been in love with for two and a half years so it wouldn't hurt her when I had to leave in a few days.
I didn't know what the fuck I had expected to feel when I finally did it. It would have been nice to feel like I had done the right thing but I didn't. I felt like a monster. She had been crying, heartbroken, and it was because of me.
I only lived a floor up. If I went after her now, I'd probably still find her backing out of her parking spot. No. I wasn't going to do that. It was this or make her wait... I had chosen this.
When did this start paying off? Because seeing her face, I didn't know anymore whether it was the right decision. If she wasn't attached to me anymore, I wasn't her problem. Whatever happened to me didn't have to worry her. She would be fine, I knew she would be. I just wasn't that sure about myself anymore.
Several hours later, my phone rang. I knew who was on the other end of the line before I looked. I also knew who I wished that it was instead. I answered; ignoring it wasn't an option.