“Oh, now you never want to marry me?”
“I don’t know, Patrick! That’s what I’m saying!Jesus, we’re twenty fucking years old! Why do I have to decide right now whatI’m going to do with my life?”
“Wait, wait, wait. Back up a second. Why areyouyellin’? Why are you even mad at me right now? Ididn’t say anything, Kinsey.Youbrought this up.”
I weighed my options: to give him the truth, orgive him a lie. “Because this, scares me.” Truth. “I love being on my own rightnow, Patrick. Like Ireallylove it.”
“I know you do.” His voice was quiet, strained.He was upset. “And I knew you would.”
“Don’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you.”
I took a deep breath, blowing the air against thephone. I closed my eyes, pictured his face. Opened my mouth, tasted his tongue.
“I think …”
“Don’t do it, Kinsey.”
“Patrick, I want a break.”
“Don’t give me that shite. Just say you want tobreak up.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing the words out oneby one. “I want to break up.”
Dead air filled the space between his phone andmine. I needed to fill it, to hear anything but the breaking of my heart.
God, I didn’t know it could hurt so bad.
“I just …” I took a deep breath, rememberingthe smell of his Old Spice deodorant. “I just feel like our lives have beendecided for us. I want to choose for a while.”
“Andy’don’tchooseme?” His voice cracked with the strain of his heart busting open.
“It’s not that. It’s—”
“That’s exactly what it is, Kinsey, because ifit wasn’t,y’wouldn’tbedoin’this!” His breath hit the phone in quivering gasps. “Are youseein’ someone else?”
“What? God, why would you even think I could dothat?”
“Well, I don’t know, Kinsey. I didn’t think youcould dothis, and I’m just over here,wonderin’ if I know you at all anymore.”
My vision clouded with tears and memories, mybreath held in my tightened lungs. The heart that once belonged to him waslying on the floor, bloodied and battered from six minutes of conversation thatI never could’ve seen coming. Was that what college did to people? Was it worthit?
I wanted to know what he was thinking, what hewas doing, but after what had been said between us, what I had done, I wasn’tsure I had the right to ask.
Then, he spoke. “So, this is it?”
I hesitated at first, and then, I told myselfthat the hard part was over. That was a lie, of course, but it’s what I had todo to tell him that, yes, we were done. To give myself options. To give myselffreedom. To give myself the chance to truly decide what it was I wanted.
?
Six months later, I went home for Easter. Ihadn’t heard from Patrick since that night. Not even during Christmas, when Ihad come home. Didn’t dare to catch a glimpse of him, didn’t dare to knock on hisdoor, didn’t dare listen to the panicked screams coming from the dying organ inmy chest.
God, I missed him. I found that the single lifewasn’t for me. I found that other guys were assholes, more of an asshole thanPatrick and his tickling fingers. I found that none of them knew how to kiss methe way I liked, and I didn’t have the patience to teach them. I found that abroken heart was worse than the thought of children, and I found that I wouldalways choose him. Hands down, it would always be Patrick Kinney.
I had decided I was going to ask him to take meback. I told myself that he would; he was Patrick, and he loved me. But still,I was nervous, as though he would be a different person after only six monthsof separation.
Six months—it had felt like an eternity, but itwasn’t a long time, in the grand scheme of it all. How much could’ve possiblychanged?
