breaking

by jamelah

Posted to Stories on 2001-10-23 15:47:00

He had called this morning, asked me to meet him at that coffee place a couple blocks away. I hadn’t wanted to say yes, but I didn’t want to have him tell me over the phone, either. So, instead of my planned orgy of television watching and junk food eating, I took a shower and put some clothes on.

I pulled a deep breath into my lungs, smelling the air as I trudged through the gray-brown slush in the street. It would snow today.

He was already there when I arrived; he smiled and waved me over as I stomped the winter sludge off my shoes. I walked over to his booth, slipped out of my coat, sat down. My face was already blank. This was his game, I’d let him start.

“It’s awfully gray today, huh?”

“It’ll snow later,” I said, taking a sip of the coffee he had already ordered for me.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice trailing off.

“I figured that you didn’t just call me over to stare at me,” I answered, sipping my coffee again. “So…”

“Well,” he started again, apologizing for his recent distance, and I sat thinking of a million things I could say to shock him. Instead I watched his face, looked at his mostly-brown eyes, thanked god for my brilliant poker face.

He finished, and I could tell that he was waiting for me to say something. “Okay,” I said, obliging him.

“That’s all?”

“What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was expecting a bit more from you, that’s all.”

Somewhere deep inside of myself, I smiled. Who said girls can’t be macho? I took another sip of coffee, regarded him over the cup’s rim. He watched me. I shrugged.

He ran a hand over his face, let out a breath. “Don’t you care?” He was trying to look disappointed in me, but I could see, for a second, the hope that flashed through his eyes.

I wouldn’t let him see that he had just kicked me in the stomach with that look. “What does it matter if I care or not,” I said finally, running a fingernail over the tiny crack in my coffee cup.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He actually looked smug. Ah yes, he knew so much about me. I watched him for a moment, thinking that if this had happened a year ago, I would have kissed that look off of his face. I would have reminded him how much control I had over him. But this wasn’t then. So instead, I examined my fingernails, picked at a chip in the polish.

“It’s not supposed to mean anything,” I said, watching the exasperation flash across his face. I let him wait a moment. And then, “But it means that it doesn’t matter if I care or not, because you’ve already decided what you’re going to do, and how I feel isn’t a factor.”

“Listen,” he began, his voice low, “it’s not that–”

“No,” I interrupted, “whatever you’re looking for isn’t here. You think I don’t know that you’re looking for something else? Stop playing Mr. Sensitive. I know you more than you think.”

“Hey–”

“Just stop it. You’ve gotten all you can from me, so you need to move on. I understand you, is all.”

“What do you think you understand?”

I smiled at that. I made sure it was a real dazzler, too. “I understand that you’ve gotten all you can. You’ve peeled off all my skins, and the challenge is gone.” I thought for a moment, scratching my forehead. “Go play savior to someone else.”

“Savior? What the hell do you think I am?”

“Isn’t that what you do? Find people and try to fix their problems? And after you’ve fixed them up, you move on. Jesus, you’re such a fucking parasite.” I couldn’t believe I had said it out loud.

The initial hurt on his face was replaced by self-righteousness. “How long have you thought that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Okay? Just go find someone else with two tons of baggage and help her unpack. I’m tired of you.”

He stared at me for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak. He closed it after a few seconds, looked out the window. “It’s snowing.”

“I knew it would.”

“I guess I’d better go.”

“Yeah.”

He fished out his wallet and dropped a couple of bills on the table. Ever chivalrous, he was still paying for my coffee.

“Listen,” I said, “It’s not that–”

“No. Thanks for being honest with me.” He shrugged into his coat. “See ya around,” he said, walking away.

Instead of watching him through the window, I took a final sip from my coffee, which had by now gone cold. I sat for a moment, contemplating the emptiness across from me. I stood, letting out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding, and put my coat on.