“But babe… I mean, Emily, you can’t… stay here,” he stammers, shoulders hunched.
I thought I was angry before, but now I’m furious. Did he really expect me to be moved out less than twenty-four hours after breaking up with me? This makes me wonder… How long has he been planning on breaking up with me if he could so callously suggest moving in with my parents as if it’s even a reasonable option?
Trying to swallow down my impulse to strangle him with my bare hands, I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes.
“I am not moving in with my parents.” Inhaling another breath to calm myself before I continue. “I need time to find a new place and figure things out.”
He shifts on his feet, looking so uncomfortable that I almost feel bad for him until I remember why we’re in this situation. I imagine impenetrable walls of stone growing around my heart, each brick representing a fresh wound, sealing off the possibility of more.
“Okay, but I want you to leave here as soon as possible.”
The words were devoid of warmth or inflection; Logan’s monotone command echoed through the emptiness of the room. Any tenderness I had for him is gone. My eyes brimming with unshed tears, I nod slowly, then look away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. I refuse to let him see me cry. I have nothing else to say to him at this moment. No matter what happened, it would change nothing; the damage was done. There was no turning back for us now that my walls were up.
A few more agonizing moments of silence hung heavy in the air, the only sound the quiet hum of the refrigerator before heslunk away, leaving me alone with my cold meal and a heavy sense of foreboding. I wonder absently if Logan had secretly hoped I would grovel or beg for him to let me stay. Or if he had expected a different reaction, but the words “I don’t love you anymore” hung heavy and final in the air; the silence that followed felt like a physical weight, crushing any hope of reconciliation.
So much for a good start to the new year.
This year is going to suck.
3
emily
I’m lying on the couch with Spike while his sister, Buffy, warms my feet as I search for apartments on my phone. I’ve been at it for what feels like hours, but in reality, it probably hasn’t been that long. My search has come up with nothing affordable in any of the nicer areas of town. The ones I found that fit my budget are probably unsafe for a single woman to live alone.
With a groan of frustration, I tossed my phone onto the couch, buried my face into a pillow, and let out a muffled scream. My wild flailing sent Spike tumbling, eliciting a furious, outraged meow. He flicks his tail at me in agitation as he saunters away.
Logan is gone for the day. He normally would tell me where he’s headed, but since we’re at a standoff, he left without a single word to me. Judging by his outfit, he was likely going to the gym to get in a workout. Something we would have normally done together, but since I’m still nursing a hangover, I had no desire to get off the couch anytime soon.
I still can’t believe he expected me to have my bags packed so soon after dropping a bomb on my life.
I met Logan three years ago when I joined the local gym, which was around the same time I started my first nursing job at the nearby hospital. I was never an athlete in school, nor was I ever very active, but I felt it was necessary to start a fitness routine to help me get healthy after ruining my diet and waistline with endless hours of studying and eating trash during nursing school. The stress and the calories have not been kind to my body.
Plus, endorphins make everybody happy, and who doesn’t want to be happy? After researching all the options for gyms in the area, I finally worked up the courage to try out a free class at the local gym. Everyone seemed friendly, even if I felt my soul leave my body during what was supposed to be a scaled-down version of everyone else’s workout. And yet, despite the brutal workouts, I still found it in me to drag myself back to the gym at least three times a week.
Logan often attended the evening classes while I went to the morning class since I work evening shifts. However, he would drop into the morning class from time to time. It was hard not to notice Logan since he would often take off his shirt during the workouts. I’m woman enough to admire an attractive and fit man, so different from the last guy I dated who had a “dad bod.”
At some point, we ended up chatting after workouts. During the holiday party hosted at the gym, we ended up talking the whole time and connecting. We started casually dating, but within a few months, he asked me to move in with him since my lease with my college roommates was ending, anyway. Initially, he disliked my two rescued kittens and relegated them to the deep bowels of the basement of the apartment, but he eventually warmed up to them.
I was so happy to start a healthy relationship with someone I thought had good morals and was a stand-up guy.
Our relationship was so smooth. I can’t even recall any singular event or fight we ever had. We always just… got along. I enjoyed our quiet moments together just as much as our conversations.
I thought he loved me, but it felt like I was talking to a completely different person than the Logan I knew and loved when he told me he needed me to move out of his apartment. He felt cold and detached. Robotic. It’s as if he just turned off his emotions to me, and I’m left in the dark without direction.
Sigh.
It’s still New Year’s Day, and I have yet to set my obligatory resolution. After the mess that was the last twenty-four hours, if there is one thing I was certain of, it was that I refuse to put myself in a situation that makes me unsafe or uncomfortable just to fit into Logan’s timeline. By his own account, he has had months to come to terms with his decision, while I haven’t even had a day to figure out the next step.
Logan can suck it until I find a suitable living arrangement. He can sleep in the guest bedroom or on the couch for all I care.
I sit up with determination and make a New Year’s resolution: this year will be the year for me. It will be the first time I’ve been single in years, and I am going to enjoy every second. I want to meet new people and enjoy new experiences. Maybe I’ll even try some one-night stands to see how I like it since I have never had one before.
Yes, this year will be for me and only me.
But first, I think I need to find a roommate.
4
