the good, the bad, and the ugly

It always starts with hope and ends in disappointment. 

The flitter of butterflies against your stomach, the flush of blood to your cheeks, the nervous glances, the thinly veiled stares. The giddiness overriding your entire system after one single compliment. Oh, how I wish I could hold onto that feeling. The simplicity of it all, of the way my body would respond to his touch, a simple nudge enough to send me spiraling. How I wanted nothing more to make him happy and to keep him safe. How I hoped and dared to dream that he could be mine, would be mine. That he could love me as his. 

But the childlike joy of it all is never meant to last, is it? Endless hours of conversation trickle to mere seconds sprinkled throughout the days. Your jokes don’t make him laugh anymore. Your stories don’t enthrall him. It all comes to the point where he couldn’t care less how your day was. As if he expects you to always be there for him. He expects you to listen to him endlessly, reassure him endlessly, love him endlessly. He expects and thinks that he doesn’t have to try anymore. All he ever does is shoot down your concerns, painting them as monsters that go bump in the night- childish fears that should never exist, to begin with. 

And they never should have existed, to begin with. And I wouldn’t have started to feel those fears if it wasn’t for the way I could feel him slipping between my fingers each time I reached to pull him closer. I was supposed to give him his space. He wouldn’t let me forget that. I needed to take a step back and stop breathing down his back all the time, about everything. But then again, he was the one who started not letting me see his texts, canceling dates, and never having time for me anymore. Which wasn’t about me. It shouldn’t be about me. It wasn’t about me. 

“None of this was about me, was it?” He stares at me blankly, confused. We both know that he knows what the right answer is here. The question instead is whether he’ll give it to me or not.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The arms folded against his chest. The forced indifference crossing his face, barely masking his frustration. But the slightest tinge of panic flashing in his eyes confirms what I already know. What I was dreading would be true. 

“You never really loved me, did you? I know how important Lexi was to you. I know how hard the breakup was for you. But you promised, you promised, you didn’t love her anymore. I asked you so many times about it before I said yes to you asking me out! I asked, do you still have feelings for her? Am I overstepping anything here? Is there anything left between you two that I should know about? And you said no. Every single time.” He swats away the finger I point in his face, my anger nothing but a mere annoyance to him. 

“You’re overreacting.” 

“Really?!” My anger sparks quickly at his backhanded comment. It’s always there, at bay, ready to be let out at him at a moment’s notice. A moment just like this one. “Because every time I ask about her, you get defensive and try to shut the conversation down. Then we don’t talk for days. You don’t answer my texts, my calls, nothing! And then-” 

He huffs in impatience, rolling his eyes for measure. Did he just roll his eyes at me?! The nerve of this man! I swallow hard, clenching my eyes shut to regain my composure. Despite the fiery anger continuing to fill my veins, I try to remain calm. As much as I would love to let loose on him, a part of me knows that I love him too much to let it happen. So, instead, I try to regain some level of control. 

Deep breathes, Harper, deep breathes. 

I let the scent of the ocean fill my nose, then my lungs, then slowly rush out of my mouth. The sound of the waves slowly collapsing against the shore crashes against the wild beating of my heart. My body tenses, but I let the sound wash over me. Soothe me. Deep breathes. In. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three. Feel the breeze in your curls. Feel the sand in between your toes. Feel the weight of your sandals in your hand. Let your anger be taken away. Free yourself, just a little. For this moment, at least. 

“Harper? You not going all mute on me again, are you? Harper? Harper!” Snap, snap, snap. I flinch away as he gets closer and closer. Squeezing my eyes shut harder, I try to ignore the snapping of his fingers in my face. My free hand clenches into a tight fist as his breath comes closer and closer. So close. So close, I can smell the alcohol lacing his words, slurring them together. 

Screw being calm. 

My eyes fly open, and I catch his wrist before he can snap one more god-awful time. I tighten my grip into an iron-tight vice. He winces and whimpers like the weak puppy he is, wiggling as he tries to slip free. Pathetic. I twist his wrist once for good measure before letting his arm drop back to his side. He massages his wrist, his eyes still locked with mine. All that’s left on his face is a look of pure disgust.

“What the hell was that for?! You know I injured this only a few weeks ago. You could have reinjured it! It’s still healing!”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you started acting like such a prick! Actually, no, you’ve been acting like a prick for a while now. You go so easily from ignoring my entire existence to acting the next day like you didn’t shut me out for hours, sometimes days, sometimes even weeks! And you never apologize! It’s the same excuse like it’s my fault you can’t even talk about Lexi!”

“It would be easier to get talk about her if you didn’t keep bringing her up! That way I could maybe, actually, get over her!”

“I only bring her up because I saw your texts!” 

He freezes.

“What texts? Harper? What the hell are you talking about?”

“The texts. I saw them once. I saw her name pop up on your phone when I handed it to you at dinner. I thought it was nothing at first. That’s until I remembered you swore you stopped talking to her ages ago. So, from there, I tried to check your phone now and then. To see if she texted you again.”

He throws his hands up in the air, eyes growing wide as the news sinks in. “You were spying on me?! And you say I’m not trustworthy?!”

“I only looked at your lock screen! I never actually read any of them!”

“Really? Never?”

“Ok, I did once! You know, my face is in your phone, so I can unlock it. You never changed that. So, when I pick it up, it recognizes my face, and I can see what your notifications say. I never had a reason to look and actually see what they say, though. But, once a while later, I picked up your phone and saw that she texted. I was not going to read what she said. That was until I saw her saying how great of a time she had with you the other night. And then, literally, right after that, she sent another text saying that she’s so glad you guys are getting better together again.” I try to chuckle. But it comes out stiff and brittle. Forced. “Those were her exact words.”

His eyes frantically search to look anywhere but at me. God, the disappointment. Always the disappointment. I feel it pool in the back of my throat, mixing with a heavy dose of nausea and heartburn. “When was that?”

“You’re not even going to look at me now? Wow, not even going to look at me or deny any of this.” 

He glances back at me, but I glare him down before he can look away again. “When was that? Harper, seriously.”

“I am being serious. Ok? This is all serious.” I pause for a moment, unsure if I should tell him the truth. But it feels like we’re far past that now. “About four months ago. And I’ve seen more texts from her since then. Since I knew to really start looking for them.” 

He scoffs, eyes widening in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I never know with you. I can never tell how you’ll react! Your moods change so quickly that I can never catch up. I didn’t know what to say. If I’d make you mad, or if you’d think I’m making this all up, or if you’d stop talking to me again. Oh, don’t look at me like that. How many times do I have to bring it up before you acknowledge that you do that? The whole passive-aggressive ignoring thing. Until you need me for something, and we start talking again.”

“Ok, ok, whatever. Not the point.” He lets out a deep breath, sighing. Loudly. Is he disappointed? Did I do something to warrant him being disappointed? “I just can’t believe you kept this from me.” Pearly drops of tears suddenly race down his cheeks. They leave behind watery streaks that catch the light of the moon, glowing silver against his dark skin. I swear I’m hallucinating. I must be. He’s crying. He’s actually crying. Not only that, but he managed to start crying at the drop of a hat. Unbelievable.

But, god, he looks almost like an angel, innocent and pure. And for a moment, I almost feel sorry. My heart races faster, my breath starts to shallow and quicken, my hands become clammy with misguided shame and guilt. My body urging me to apologize. But I can’t if I did nothing wrong. 

A few sickening moments later, my fear slowly starts to wane, and I crash back down into reality. My limbs feel heavy, leaden, drained from all the energy I spent trying to control the war raging in my head and heart. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” His mouth falls open, but I am too tired to hear him out. “I didn’t do anything. You were the one who chased after me right after your breakup. I was the one who gave things time- to help you move on from Lexi. To make sure you were fully over her before we committed to anything here. I did it for you, and so much for you, and yet here you are. Standing in front of me. Crying. Acting as if I’m the sinner and you’re the saint. In the immortal words of Ms. Katy Perry,” I can’t help but chuckle internally at my brain’s mistimed attempt at humor, “you’re hot then you’re cold. And I don’t want to deal with being burned, then frozen over, over and over again by you. I deserve better.”

A beat. A pause. A moment passes. For a second, I think he’s going to apologize. He’s going to finally actually apologize. But that moment passes. And all that’s left is disappointment. It’s the only emotion I can say for sure he’s feeling right now. 

“So that’s it. We’re done. It’s time to move on. You’re… breaking up with me. Just like that. Wish you’d given me a little more time to prepare.” 

“Well, wish you didn’t start seeing your ex behind my back when you promised countless times to my face that you were over her. It honestly makes you nothing but a pathetic, worthless waste of space.” I can’t stop the words quickly enough. We both wince as they imbed themselves into their target. Him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that was too far. But it’s true. It does make you pathetic.”

He looks away, arms folded once more against his chest. A last-ditch attempt to throw up his walls and protect himself. But this time, I can excuse the lack of eye contact and the tears starting to fall again. They patter softly and quietly against the sand, but I can still hear each one drop in the silence. A moment passes. And then another. And then another, before he finally manages to speak. 

“You’re right. You deserve better. So, you should go.” I’m about to say something, but he senses this and quickly shuts it down.

“Just go, Harper. You’ve done enough.”

What else is there really to say? And so, I say nothing. I turn away from him and start walking away down the beach. I walk, and walk, and walk, not looking back. I walk, ignoring the pulling of my heartstrings tight behind me, cringing as they snap one by one. I walk, ignoring the rising crescendo of my heart rate, the swirling edges of my vision clouded with tears, the voice in the back of my head telling me to turn around and go back. Go back to him. Go back and apologize.

There’s still time to fix this. 

Every fiber in my body tells me to keep going, keep moving, keep walking away. But for once, my heart and head are telling me the same thing. And so, ever so slowly, I turn around. My breath catches on the last bit of hope I have left. Is he still there?

No. 

He’s gone.

And so is my hope. It dissipates as quickly as he had walked away himself. Only one thought pierces clearly through the growing storm of emotions taking over-

It always starts with hope and ends in disappointment.