“She means nothing to me. You’re the one I love. I just can’t figure out how to make this work.”
“Save your limited brain cells because you don’t need to find a way to make it work. It’s over!”
“Rumor, don’t be this way. We can still be friends.”
“Friends?” I yell. “I don’t even want to see your stupid face again. Or your scrawny body. Or listen to your crappy music.”
“You said you like that music.”
“Becauseyoulike it. I was being nice, which is something you should work on.”
“You’re saying I didn’t treat you well?” he says, anger in his voice. “That’s bullshit, Rumor, and you know it.”
“You didn’t even ask how I was doing after my mom died.”
“That’s not true.”
“You never asked. Not once.”
“Excuse me for not saying what you wanted. I didn’t know I was supposed to read your damn mind.”
“You wouldn’t even help me clean her stuff out of the apartment.”
“I had to work! I sent my mom over there. She’s better at that shit, anyway.”
“I didn’t want your mom there. I wantedyou. Ineededyou, but you weren’t there. You were probably withherthat day.”
“I wasn’t with Halo.”
“Halo? That’s her name? Let me guess. She has tats and pink hair?”
“Green, but it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t with her that day.”
“How long has it been? Did it start before I left?”
“We were friends. That’s it.”
“Did you even wait a day? Or did you fuck her that night? The night I left?”
“Rumor, I’m not talking about this. You need to cool down. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“I’m not talking to you, Axl. This is over.”
“Rumor—”
I end the call and toss the phone across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud.
“I can’t believe he did this,” I say to myself as I rip open the dresser drawer where I was keeping all our stuff. Photos, cards, gifts he’s given me. I take the photos and cards and toss them in the white wicker wastebasket that’s beside the dresser. Then I pick up the toy guitar he gave me, which I didn’t even want, and throw it against the wall, splintering the wood. Next, I pull out the necklaces he gave me, all cheap rope necklaces with cheap stones. I used to think they were cool, like the kind a rock star would wear. Now they just look like junk. I add them to the trash.
Someone knocks on my door. “Rumor?”
It’s Braden.
“What?” I bark back.
“What the hell’s going on in there?”
“Nothing! Go away!”
