My thumbs twine themselves together repeatedly, a nervous habit I have - one that’s been pointed out a lot more than necessary. I have to do it, I know I have to do it. But I don’t want to. It makes the whole situation all that more nerve-wracking because I know it’s going to happen, it’s inevitable.
I fiddle with my phone, the lock screen flashes a photo of Evan and I. It makes my heart ache.
You busy tonight? - Katie
Done. It’s started. This is it.
Malano’s @ 8? - Evan
See you there - Katie
I shoot my reply back quickly before the nerves eat away all my courage.
Veronica pokes her head around the corner and the movement temporarily pulls my eyes from my phone screen. “You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I give a quick nod before looking back down at my phone.
“Look, I’m sorry again for just dropping in on you like this. I swear, I thought Aunty Jenna had talked to you about this.” She sits down on the edge of my bed rubbing a towel through her damp hair.
“No, don’t you dare. It’s fine. You should know, you’re welcome here anytime.” I try my best to throw a smile her way but I know it’s not my best attempt.
“Okay, so if I’m not the cause of that face, then what is?” Her lips pursed in thought, as she sinks to the bed beside me. “Or who? Do I need to kick someone’s ass? You know I will.”
I laugh as the memory of Veronica’s blonde pigtails flash in my mind. “Yes, I know. After Meghan in the fifth grade, I don’t know if I could ever forget how well you delivered that ass whooping.”
“If you wanna talk, you know I’m here.”
“I know… it’s just things with Evan.” That’s it really, there’s not much more to say. Not much more I can say.
“I wouldn’t worry too much, I’m sure it’ll all work itself out. You’s two were made for each other, I swear it.” Veronica’s words slice through me, raggedly tearing me into two. She has no idea. Her words come from a place of good, they’re meant to reassure me. They don’t. Once again that gnawing feeling returns - the guilt - it continues eating away at me. Am I doing the right thing? I second guess myself for the twentieth time today. Honestly? I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right; I feel like I couldn’t be more of a bitch if I tried.
My wince is easily mistaken for worry rather than pain, thankfully. Veronica gives my shoulder a reassuring pat and leaves the room, forcing me alone with my own silence.
As much as I hate it, I know I have to break it off with Evan. I love him, more than I ever thought I could love anyone. But we’ve been together all of our adult lives. I wouldn’t know how to live without him. Which is what scares me. I don’t want to be tied to anyone, I’m too young to be in such a serious relationship.
My mother’s voice echoes inside my head, she’s going to have a cow when she hears about this. I know that this is what needs to be done. In my mind, it’s clear. I know that I need to be single, however scary that thought is. I need the break, the chance to make sure I’m not missing out on anything.
If I don’t do this now, I know I won’t ever be able to. In a couple years, we’d be married, a few after that we’d be having kids and settling into a - beautiful - double story house in the suburbs. The picture is so clear in my mind; I could question if it’s actually happening. The white picket fence, the minivan, our adorable chubby-cheeked little boy.
As crazy as it sounds, that picture only makes my resolve even stronger.
A few hours later, I find myself staring down at my hands as I wait for Evan at Malano’s. Once, it was our favourite restaurant, but right now, I hate everything about it. The red and white checkered tablecloth, the glowing lights on the walls, even the paintings which decorate the walls. I hate all of it. A tea light candle holder and small vase sit in the middle of the table, the candle lit and a single red rose standing tall in the vase. I hate them most of all. Only small details, but they make a world of difference to me.
“Hey,” I say as he gets close enough. He smells of soap and his woodsy cologne. He pulls out the chair opposite me before leaning down for a kiss. The instant his lips touch mine I want to burst into tears. I love him, I love his kiss. To think I may never feel his lips again, my heart squeezes tight.
It’s the little things I’m going to miss the most. His voice, his gentle words when he’s trying to soothe me. Waking up next to him, our morning cuddles after he’s spent the night. All the memories of our good times flash before my eyes.
I can feel the tension making my body go rigid, my hands clasped tight in my lap, my jaw tight as he takes his seat. If he notices, he makes a good show of hiding it. Deep breath in, and out.
