If you were to ask Spencer, he would absolutely tell you that we broke up over Kleenex.She’s crazy! She dumped me with no warning, over some tissues. Who does that?
What really happened was this: Spencer never picked up after himself, ever. And while this mess was not restricted to our bedroom—he would routinely walk over toys left lying on the floor rather than pick them up, and leave his dirty plates on the coffee table, and get aggravated with me when he had no clean underwear (which he wouldn’t put in the laundry basket or wash or put away)—it was the small trash can next to his side of the bed that was ultimately my last straw, atop a Matterhorn of straws.
While emptying all of the little wastebaskets throughout the house, one day I paused before emptying his, and wondered how long it would take for him to simply do it himself. I watched as the days passed and it overflowed. When the three of us caught a cold, and he was being pathetic—I’m so, so sick, Romina.As if I wasn’t, too!—his trash can got so full that he didn’t bother aiming used tissues at it anymore, letting them pile all around it. I was already disgusted with him, but it wasthisthat tipped me over the edge. This disrespect, this laziness, this refusal to be a partner, to be responsible for himself. I’d been holding out aslong as I could, for Adalyn, but I could not put up with his shit for one minute longer. And Spencer, who’d been banking on me tolerating it because he was Adalyn’s gatekeeper, was completely shocked. Everyone in our social circle couldn’t believe that this kind, generous, sweet man had been left by a partnertwice. Either he hadn’t been listening when I asked him twelve million times to help out more, or he had decided, twelve million individual times, that it was easier to not do anything and hope I’d eventually wear myself down enough that I’d stop asking for help. I’m sure he thought, if he thought about me at all,She’ll learn it’s just easier to do it by herself.
And you know what? He was correct. Everything was easier without him.
We’d discussed ironing out a custody arrangement, because that forty-year-old child had no interest in parenting, but he reneged when Adalyn’s bio mom reentered the picture. So, yes. Very easy to hate him.
Conversely, at the end of Alex and me, I couldn’t summon any anger. In spite of how we ended, pain was what burnt me up because he had taken himself away from me, and the absence of Alex washell. It was hell.
I am so skull-poundingly angry with him right now, though, that it rises off my body like fever, curling into the steam that wafts from the hot towel lodged behind my neck. Green goop rests heavily on my face, cucumbers cooling my eyes. We’re in Kristin’s bridal suite, ten massage tables crammed in wherever they can fit (two are in the hall, along with some furniture that had to be removed). A heavy-duty essential oils diffuser is expelling a mist so pervasive that even my saliva tastes like lemongrass. The masseuse has permeated the room with whale noises meantto relax us until our “bones turn to gelatin.” But I’m lying here tense, stewing. My bones are brick.
How dare he leave in the middle of an argument.
How dare he think I’m here forhim.
How dare he leave me a flower—and I’m certain he’s the one who did—that, upon my research, is a tuberose, which expresses that one feels wounded. He must have bought it at Budding Romance. Every time I picture Alex striding into that shop for the sole purpose of buying a nasty little woe-is-me message and then driving over to my house, deliberately placing it on my doorstep—I am livid and astounded in equal measure. Of all the overdramatic nonsense! I returned the gesture by leaving a basket of dandelions with Half Moon Mill’s reception, his name written on an attached card. I’ve never scavenged for dandelions so viciously before. Only wish that I could’ve seen his face when he recalled the meaning behind them:Your pretentions are ridiculous. He’s got to be so vexed right now.
I’ve always found his boldness appealing.
“Not anymore,” I mutter to myself. “I miss when you were a freshman and too scared to talk to me.” I was intimidating as a fourteen-year-old, probably due to the dark eye makeup. Now I’m a pip-squeak. I wear milkmaid braids and petticoats. I spend time thinking about what type of butterfly I would be (I want to saysunset moth, but let’s face it, I would never be a butterfly at all because I might get caught in somebody’s net; nay, I would be a toadstool. Hunkered down in an unreachable cave).
“You say something?” Kristin asks drowsily from the next massage chair over.
I open my eyes, thin green slices slipping off. From my other side, Teyonna replies, “She said she misses scared freshmen.”
“Haven’t had a man get fresh with me in a long time,” one of Trevor’s aunts laments.
“Romina,” one of Trevor’s cousins calls. “Tell us more about you and Trevor.”
Allison groans. “Tell us less. Remove what I already know. I’m still recovering from the Nissan Cube revelation.”
I look over at Teyonna, expecting to see her laid out like the rest, eyes closed. But she’s playing on her phone. When she notices me watching, she offers a small smile, then turns her attention back to her screen. Types on it, then shows it to me.
Trevor told me the truth.
I get out my phone, drumming up the notes app. I’m sorry for lying.
She replies:I understand. Kinda. He asked if I want to date him again.
I type: Not to be nosy, but...??
She makes a so-so gesture, half-smiling, half-grimacing.I don’t know,she types.He’s so much fun and I’ve missed that, to be honest. Every time Trevor and I have seen each other one of us has been in a relationship so we’ve been on different pages. But this time it just felt like we clicked again, like it was the right time even though it should’ve felt like the wrong time bc I thought he was your bf. Does that make sense? I’ve been trying so hard to suppress my feelings! So now they are exploding out of me! And he’s SO HOT, right!!!
I’ll give him that.Oh, he’s beautiful for sure. Not to persuade you one way or the other but the second he saw you here I could tell he was really into you.
I watch her eyes brighten as she reads, then she falls dramatically backward and hugs her phone, gazing dreamily up at the ceiling. Kicks her feet.
Ok yeah that’s what I wanted to hear,she types, then looks sideways at me.
I text Trevor:Hey how’s it going with Teyonna?When he replies immediately, I lean over so that she can watch the frenzied fleet of messages roll in.
I DON’T KNOW IF SHE LIKES ME MAN
I TRIED TALKING TO HER
I TOLD HER EVERYTHING
