Page 5

Part B

“Curse the Love Songs”

April

When I get back to my…our…Suz’s apartment at ten o’clock the next evening, she’s not in her usual position on the sofa. I assume she’s taking a bathroom break or a shower and will be back soon to rejoin her game, since Friday nights are one of her group’s customary times to play. But, when I get back to the bedroom to put my stuff away, she’s sitting on the bed reading. She’s got music playing quietly on her phone.

“Hey,” I say. I set my overnight bag on the end of the bed and start unpacking.

Suz looks up from her eReader. “Where have you been?” she asks.

“I was at Abby’s last night. I texted you I was going to stay over.”

She shrugs. “I never got your text. But, my phone did some sort of update yesterday, so I wonder if I just missed it.”

“You could have texted me you know.” No response. I put the last of my things in the hamper, then change into my nightshirt. Suz is back to reading her book and I don’t know what to say to her anymore. So, I go to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

When I come back to the bedroom, I trip on the rug next to her side of the bed and am barely able to keep myself from falling by pressing my hands into the mattress next to her. “Aaaccck!” I shout. I clutch my right wrist, which took the brunt of the impact. I know it’s not badly injured, but it still hurts a bit. Suz doesn’t look up at all.

“Do you have eyes on top of your head to know I’m fine, or do you just not care?” I ask, irritated. “I mean, you had to have felt me hit the bed, even if you didn’t see anything.”

She slowly drags her gaze away from her eReader to look at me. “I saw, I felt, and I heard, but you seemed like you had it handled. What did you want me to do?”

I sigh heavily. “Care? At least ask if I was okay. Something. Anything.”

“Are you okay?” she asks with as little feeling as possible.

I throw up my hands. “I don’t want you to ask me because I told you to. I want you to be concerned about me.” I pause to see if she’ll have any reaction. “But you aren’t, so that’s just fine .”

“I really don’t understand what you’re so upset about,” she replies, still not putting her eReader aside.

As a love song plays from her phone, it dawns on me that I’m not upset about her not checking on me from this little incident, I’m upset because she doesn’t care about me in general. She didn’t check to see where I was when I didn’t come home last night. We’ve been living completely separate lives and it’s taken this long for me to come to terms with it.

“No, you don’t, do you? I think I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight,” I reply, finally. I walk to my side of the bed, pick up my pillow and walk out of the room.

* * *

“Well, you know my feelings on the matter,” Abby says, taking a bite of her salad. “You should have done this months or even years ago.”

I convened a summit of my closest friends at our favorite lunch spot, Denise’s Café, the next day to discuss the “Suz Situation.” Abby and Isaac both had the day off, and Nate and I decided to play hooky today as well. Nate and Isaac were only too eager to give their two—or make that four—cents and eat the delicious food. Especially after they came over last night to give us the news about their impending nuptials. I’m sure they’d rather talk more about the wedding today. Abby came for the food since we’d already hashed this out last night. But I knew she would probably throw in some more opinions before the lunch was over. We’re gathered around our favorite table by the window, and I’m growing more certain of what I must do as the conversation wears on.

“I don’t know about years,” Nate interjects. “Things were good there for a while. And she really was there for Clare after the…you know…”—he lowers his voice to a whisper—“ accident .”

Isaac puts down his sandwich and wipes his hands on his napkin before speaking. “Was she though? I mean, yeah, she helped out with the planning aspects of the funeral and the estate and stuff, but that’s what she’s good at. Technical and organizational stuff, you know? Was she really there for Clare in the emotional sense?” He shrugs. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“Helping me out with all the arrangements did take a huge burden off while I was healing and gave me more space to grieve, so in that sense, I think you could say she was there for me emotionally,” I reply. “However, I do see your point, Isaac. So, if she wasn’t there for me emotionally then, then she hasn’t really been there for me…ever.” This realization weighs heavily on me, and I put my head into my hands. Nate and Abby each lightly rub my back.

“Oh, girl,” Nate begins. “I know it’s hard. You put your heart into something—someone—and it just wasn’t reciprocated.”

I slowly lift my head. “It’s not that. I mean, it sort of is, but I feel like such an idiot for believing in us for so long when it’s obvious to everyone around me that there was nothing to believe in. Hell, it’s even obvious to Suz! She has never once called me her girlfriend, partner, significant other, or anything to show that I mean anything to her other than a rent check.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Abby and Isaac say at the same time as Nate says, “That’s not true.”

“But it is, and I am. It’s over, if it ever was anything to begin with.” I take a big bite of my grilled cheese sandwich in an attempt to drown my sorrows in copious amounts of cheese. Denise’s makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches. I swallow and say, “Alright, enough about Suz and me. Let’s talk about your wedding or something else fun.”

“Well,” Isaac begins, “we talked and looked at our calendars last night, and we settled on a date.”

“Really?” Abby and I say almost in unison.

Nate nods. “Yep. We’re getting married on November fifth.” To me he adds, “You know how I’ve always wanted to get married in the fall.”

“I can’t believe you let almost this whole lunch go on with me droning on about Suz and you sitting on this amazing news,” I say. “You should have cut me off sooner. I don’t want to be Carrie Bradshaw, always talking about my stuff and never anyone else’s.”

Isaac tsks, then adds, “No, you needed us and we’re here for you. You’re nothing like Carrie. Believe me, Abby would call you on it if you were. Isn’t that right?”

Abby laughs heartily. “You got that right.”

She winks at me, and all those feelings from last night start flooding back. No, Clare, that was just one of her regular winks. Get a grip! I manage a smile back, but it’s tentative at best. I probably look like I’ve got something in my eye.

Abby looks down at her watch. “Oh, I have to run. I’m meeting my parents for coffee in like thirty minutes.” She rolls her eyes. “Clare, can you make your own way back to the apartment?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?” I ask, concerned. Abby’s relationship with her parents is stilted at best, and she tries to avoid seeing them when they’re in town.

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Nothing major.”

I take the hint that she doesn’t really want to share too much in front of Nate and Isaac, so I let it drop. “Okay, well, I’ll see you back at your place later then.”

“See you then. And congrats on setting the date, guys!” She picks up her jacket and purse and heads out the door to her car.

“I wonder what that was all about,” Isaac says. “I take it from your bewildered expression that you don’t know either.”

I shake my head. “I have no idea. She usually avoids her parents when they come to town, so it’s a little strange.”

“Oh, she’s probably doing the coffee date just to avoid a longer visit with them later,” Nate adds. “I’m sure she’ll fill you in later when the menfolk aren’t around.”

Isaac and I laugh at that. “Menfolk?” Isaac queries. “When did you turn country?”

“I’ve lived in North Carolina all my life. Occasionally a little hillbilly slips in.”

To me, Isaac says, “Am I making the right choice? Should I back out now?”

“Haha,” I chuckle. “You’re making the right choice. He’s just got to keep you on your toes is all. You can’t know everything about each other already.”

Isaac looks over at Nate who is making puppy dog eyes at him. “How can I not love this man? Even if he does say crazy things like ‘menfolk’ out of nowhere.” They kiss and it’s incredibly sweet to see, although it does make my heart hurt slightly with the fact that I’ve just decided to break up with Suz.

Crap. I still have to break up with Suz.

“Alright, I need to go rip the Band-Aid off and deal with the Suz situation,” I say, taking a last sip of my iced tea. I wipe my hands on my napkin, gather my things and stand up.

“Do you want us to come with you? I’m not sure if it would help or not, but we’re happy to be there for moral support,” Nate offers, and Isaac nods his agreement.

“Thanks, but I need to do this on my own. I’ll text you later and let you know how it went.” I put on my hoodie and sling the strap of my cross-body purse over my head and onto my shoulder.

“Good luck!” Isaac calls as I walk out of the café.

* * *

I step off the bus at the stop in front of my apartment. Really, it’s Suz’s apartment as only her name is on the lease—a fact that she loves pointing out to me—but I feel like it was a tiny bit mine for a while. My nerves are so jangled I almost drop my keys when I hear the squeal of the bus pulling away. On the one hand, I can’t believe I am breaking up with Suz, and on the other, I can’t believe I’ve waited this long.

I put the key in the lock of the downstairs door, then climb the four flights of concrete stairs to our floor. When I reach the first landing, I hear the telltale banging of the construction crew working on the dilapidated elevator. Of course I decide to move out right when the landlord is finally fixing it.

When I reach our floor, I’m a little winded, so I walk at a leisurely pace to our…her door to allow me time to catch my breath. Being real, I’m not entirely sure what I’m planning to say to her when I get in there either, so I should use the extra time to figure that out. Am I? Nope. I am, however, fretting over whether I should open the door with my key or knock. Why are you being an idiot, Clare? Just open the door.

I fumble with my keys so much when I do finally make it to the apartment door that the sound must be enough for Suz to hear from the other side, because she opens the door before I can get my key in the lock.

“Clare?” she says, confused.

“Hey. Yeah, I was having trouble getting my keys out. Sorry,” I reply.

“Oh.” She steps back so I can come in.

Sticking my keys back in my purse, I walk in, and she shuts the door behind us.

“I was just getting ready to have lunch. Are you having anything?” Suz asks.

I shake my head. “I had lunch already.”

She walks into the kitchen. “Cool. I’m just going to make—”

“We need to talk,” I interrupt. My heart is racing and I’m willing myself not to panic. Most of the time, my panic attacks are brought on by severe stress, but sometimes they can be triggered by more minor things. Although, breaking up with one’s “girlfriend” is not all that minor, in the grand scheme of things.

She turns, her mouth still open from speaking. She closes it, then says, “Uh. Okay.”

“Sorry. I need to get this out. Then you can make your sandwich or whatever, I just need you to listen for a few minutes.”

“Fine,” she replies. She leans against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down. I take another and feel a little relief. One more deep breath, cleansing exhale out and I feel okay to begin. “Suz, I can’t do this anymore. I feel like I have given all I can to this relationship, but I’m not being given anything in return. Hell, you don’t even call me your girlfriend. I need to be happy and find someone who will acknowledge me and love me for who I am.”

She looks askance for a moment, and I turn to see that Shelley has jumped up onto the couch in Suz’s favorite spot. “Can you get your cat off the couch?”

My blood boils with frustration. “I’m breaking up with you and you’re worried about the cat? Seriously? Were you even listening to me?”

She looks back at me. “I heard you, but then I saw your cat jump up onto the couch—where she’s not supposed to be—and thought you could deal with that while I work on what to say in response to what you said.”

“Fine,” I say, exasperated. Thankfully, my heart rate has slowed down and I’m not feeling panicky anymore. Just angry. I stalk over to the couch and gingerly pick Shelley up from her relaxed position there. She’s not happy with me for disturbing her, even though I relocate her to her favorite window perch with a beautiful sunbeam. “Blame Suz,” I mouth to Shelley.

I return to the kitchen to find Suz in the exact same position, but her eyes are closed in contemplation. I know this look well as whenever she’s coming up with what to say, she simply closes her eyes while she formulates her response instead of engaging with the person on the other end of the conversation. It’s unnerving.

I’m settling down on one of the chairs in the breakfast nook, knowing this could still take a while, when Suz’s eyes suddenly pop open. She turns slightly to face me anew before she speaks. “I have to say this feels like it’s coming out of the blue for me, so I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it.” She starts to pace and counts with her fingers as she recaps what I’ve said. “You aren’t given enough back from what you put in. You want to be happy. You’re upset because I don’t call you my girlfriend. You can’t do this anymore. And, what do you mean by ‘this,’ exactly?”

“This,” I reply, waving my arms between the two of us. “Our relationship. We’ve been together for how many years now and you don’t seem to comprehend any of it. This is exactly my point.”

Suz stops pacing and sighs. “Clare, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean by ‘relationship,’” she says using air quotes. “I thought we mutually decided we weren’t so much dating as just rooming together. You know, after we tried and failed our experiment to…” She trails off gesturing vaguely with her hand.

Naturally she’s bringing up our one “failed experiment”—as she puts it—or attempt at sex as most others would call it. It was shortly after we moved in together and it was pretty awful, I’ll give her that much. It wasn’t either of our faults really, but I think we just needed to work on things in that department. Suz, on the other hand, didn’t want to. She said, “I’m fine if we just never do that again.” But I certainly don’t remember anything about us deciding we weren’t in a relationship anymore after that. I definitely missed that memo.

“I do not remember mutually deciding we weren’t in a relationship anymore,” I reply. “If that’s the case, then why do we still share a bed?”

It takes a while for her to respond to this. “Convenience?” She shrugs.

“Really?” Flabbergasted would be an understatement.

“You know I hate change.” Another shrug.

I throw up my hands. “I could have moved into the other bedroom. Did you ever think of that?”

“I guess not,” she replies, crossing her arms again.

“I’m basically just a rent check to you then, aren’t I?”

Silence except for the sound of cars passing by on the street outside.

“Ugh,” I huff. “This isn’t making me want to stay, and is, in fact, making me want to bolt even more.” I stand up, the legs of the chair scraping as I do—the sound of the end. I walk to the hall closet to get my suitcases, and I expect her to say something, anything, in response. Instead, I hear her open the fridge and know she’s making her lunch. Discussion over.

More resolved than ever, I pack as many bags as I can, as quickly as possible. I know I’ll need to come back later to get some larger items, but at least I can take all my clothes, toiletries and such now. Maybe I can get Abby, Nate, or Isaac to help me with the rest when Suz is at work one day, I think. I don’t know if I can bear to see her again after this. At least not for quite a while.

Once I have everything packed, I realize there’s no way I can carry all this down the stairs by myself, plus I need to get Shelley in her crate. I can’t imagine the bus driver’s face when I try to shove multiple suitcases, two duffel bags, a toiletry case and a cat crate on the bus. I sit on the bed in our room and unlock my phone to call Abby, but I realize she’s probably still out with her parents. So, I call Isaac instead to see if their offer of help is still available. Thankfully, they are free and will be here in ten minutes with their car.

I think about going back into the living room to wait for them, but I can’t face Suz. I survey our room and bathroom, to make sure I haven’t missed anything, and find a tiny picture of my parents sitting on the windowsill. I’d almost forgotten about it. My mom always said it was good luck to put pictures of people you’d lost in the window so their spirits would be reflected back to you. I have no idea where she got that from, as I’ve searched Irish myths and legends and never came across that one, but knowing her, she could have made it up. Regardless, I wanted to believe itwas true, so I did it.

I pick up the small frame and hold it lovingly in my hands as I sit back on the bed. They were so happy in this photo—taken on their thirtieth wedding anniversary—both of them laughing at something, eyes sparkling, and the photographer captured their perfect joy forever. More than anything, I want what they had: someone to laugh with, someone to cry with, someone to love and never let go.

Suddenly, I’m thinking about the latest dream again of the faceless one. My father used to tell me when I was a young girl that they would make sure I was taken care of and loved even if they were gone. He said they’d always show me the way, which was a comforting idea, but I never thought much about it until the dreams started.

On the day they died, I chalked it up to too many pain meds for my own injuries from the accident, but when I kept getting the dreams long after I recovered, I couldn’t help but wonder if my parents were sending me messages from the beyond, guiding me toward the one I was supposed to be with.

The dreams always started off with a genderless, faceless person doing romantic things for me like taking me to the opera, a romantic walk in the park, a trip to California, and on and on. I don’t really remember the first one, probably because of the meds, and some of the others are kind of fuzzy as well. When they kept recurring, I started a dream journal so I could record them. The person’s face would be blurred out like on TV, and their body was completely androgynous, but they were wearing a tuxedo. Always a tuxedo no matter what we were doing.

The other night was the first night where I could tell it was a woman, even though the face was still blurred, and the first time I got the feeling it might not be Suz.