The Breakup Artist

of digital journal he was keeping?

Now, I don’t really consider myself a nosey person. I can keep a secret and I respect people’s privacy. But when I saw my name on the computer screen of the boy who I wanted back so badly, I couldn’t resist reading on. I had to find out if there was some hint in here as to how I could win him back.

Scrolling to the top of the document I read the title: “The Lonely Girl Syndrome.” I stopped reading for a moment. It didn’t really sound like a journal entry. And it wasn’t exactly formatted to be something turned in to school. At this point I had two different options and I knew how I picked would change things in a big way. I could read on and see exactly what David really thought of me, or I could just close the computer, return it to him, and be grateful that he had taught me so much while we both still trusted each other.

I chose the first option.

Big surprise.

I didn’t remember much from what I soon learned was a newspaper article. But some of the phrases stuck in my mind like they’d been burned there. “… came from a loveless home to suck the love out of the relationships around her.” “… withdraws herself from the norms of growing up due to a false sense of superiority.” “… relies on her looks because nothing resides below the surface.”

Each paragraph was worse than the one before it, and I couldn’t believe that the person I was reading about was supposed to be me. The details in the article had to come from his year of watching me as he mentioned jobs from ages ago, even jobs I had taken when I went to different schools. Had he followed me to those schools and I just didn’t notice? Could he even do that if his parents didn’t move like my mom and I did so often?

I was vaguely aware of my phone buzzing next to me but I didn’t bother to look down or pick it up. I just stared straight ahead at the screen, too shocked to cry.

I didn’t end up reading the whole article. Half was all I could really manage to stomach for the time being. When I had had enough I gently closed the laptop, not bothering to turn it off.

“Okay,” I said to the empty room. “This is okay,” I said, still more quietly. I didn’t seem to be able to really say anything that mattered. I could only keep telling myself that everything was okay. This was, of course, pretty far from the truth, but if I kept lying to myself I was hoping I’d eventually start to believe the lie. “Maybe he wasn’t adding to the article all this time. Maybe he was… deleting it… or at least revising it.”

One thing I did know was that he had definitely been doing something to the article since we’d been dating. I just didn’t know what.

My phone buzzed next to my leg once more and I finally mustered the sanity to reach down and pick it up. I didn’t quite know what to do when I read the words “One Missed Call From David” illuminated across the little screen. Closing that screen my phone revealed to me that I also had a text message from David. I wasn’t quite sure if I actually wanted to read it. It would be horrible to read him trying to make up some excuse as to why he’d written the article. Although it would be worse if he didn’t… if he just asked for his computer back so that he could finally turn in his big story.

Opening up his message didn’t really reveal much to me. All he had written was “Is the laptop still on?” I couldn’t tell if he was worried, resigned, or just relieved that he wouldn’t have to pretend to be interested in me anymore. Sitting there with my phone in my hand I felt so small. The hurt that was bubbling up inside of me felt like more than I could bear, but then the idea that this hurt was caused by a high school relationship made me feel like a fool. I had become exactly like the people I had always made fun of. Maybe David was right. Maybe I did withdraw myself from growing up because I had a false sense of superiority. I had always thought of myself as separate from all of the other students. Like I was part of their world but was above sharing their experiences.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of all of the confusion David’s article had brought. Taking a deep breath I decided the only thing I could do would be to actually talk to David. Best case, he didn’t mean a word of what he was writing. He was just kidding… or trying to prove a point. Worst case, we were through. He hated me and was just using me for his stupid newspaper article.

I decided not to consider the second option anymore or I’d just hang up the phone right as he picked up. As the phone rang, I tried to keep myself from shaking. There had to be some logical explanation to all of this. There was no way David didn’t feel as connected to me as I did to him.

On the third ring, I heard David pick up.

“Hey,” came his familiar voice on the other end of the phone. He sounded just as bad as I felt, I noted with some hope. Perhaps he didn’t want things to be over between us either. I kept my fingers crossed as I spoke in a shaky voice.

“Do you think we can talk?” I asked, my heart feeling like it might just stop altogether.

“Not over the phone,” he said after a sizeable pause. “Can you meet me at the park off Hendrix?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in five minutes,” I said, probably a bit too anxiously.

“All right… bye.” I was glad that at least David still remembered how to end a conversation, though I hoped that was the only context in which I’d ever hear him utter the word “good-bye.” Maybe the fact that he felt bad meant that the article wasn’t real. Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.

Or maybe I was just delusional and trying to make myself feel better.

I sped down the street to the park much faster than I should have, happy that I had just taken so much time to make myself look presentable. I pulled into the mostly empty parking lot and instantly spotted David’s old blue car. I pulled up beside it, but he wasn’t inside. My heart sank for a moment, before I realized that he was probably in the park somewhere. I left the laptop on the passenger side seat, hoping that even if he just wanted to take his computer and go, I could lock the door until we resolved this whole thing. I walked through the wet grass until I found him sitting on a swing in the abandoned playground.

He looked up when I approached but said nothing, just like he’d done on Friday. At least today he didn’t look like he wanted to kill anyone. Instead, he just looked sad and resigned-exactly how I felt.

“You look nice,” he said after I sat on the swing beside his.

“Thanks,” I answered. I looked over at him and noted that his eyes were red, though I couldn’t be sure if it was from lack of sleep or crying. I found myself hoping that either one of these causes was not due to the demise of our relationship.

“So you said you wanted to talk?” he asked carefully, and immediately we had gotten to the hard part. I nodded, not sure exactly where to start or how I could justify my actions to him. Now that I had read the article I almost felt like my little fall off the wagon would be the easy part of the conversation. I decided I’d wait until he brought that situation up. Although from the way he kept looking at me like I was a bomb about to go off, he wasn’t quite sure if I had read the article or not. I sighed heavily, figuring I’d kick off this little heart-to-heart with my lies. We could always move to his later.

“I know I promised you I was going to stop all of this but… this was something I just had to do.” I looked at him, hoping that I could read his reaction and go from there, but his face was completely blank. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. Trust is really important to me and it was a stupid mistake… I just… I didn’t know what else to do and at the time it seemed like the only option.” I was beginning to ramble desperately. I felt like if I stopped talking for a minute, he would drop the axe on our relationship. Now that I’d confessed to myself that I loved him, it seemed like being without him would be like being without air. The short period of time we’d spent apart had been complete torture. Although for all I knew, the whole time we’d been together had just been a lie to try to get a story out of me. Why couldn’t we have a normal relationship?

He looked up at me now, and I was angry with myself for crying in front of him. It was a low trick women used, but I couldn’t help myself. The tears wouldn’t stop coming now that they’d started. David looked slightly startled that I was crying and I saw a flash of pain flutter across his face. It was a look that made me unhappy but gave me hope at the same time.

“Please don’t leave me,” I said desperately, and I was fully aware that I’d turned into exactly what I’d wanted to avoid all along. I had become a slave to my emotions, but somehow it wasn’t as terrible as I had always expected it to be. “Even being without you for these past two days has been hell.” I was babbling again, but I couldn’t seem to keep my thoughts in my head. They all wanted to pour out of my mouth at the same time. I just wished he would actually say something. We sat in silence for a few minutes the only sounds audible were those of the crickets and my occasional sniffing as my tears wreaked havoc on the makeup I’d been so proud of moments earlier.