To Infinity

“Take care of yourself,” I stood with my back firmly pressed against the kitchen island of the condo I rented by myself as I watched the man I thought would be the only one I’d ever love glare at me with unforgiving eyes, as black as his crisp dark dress shirt.

They were nice words to say, but they left my mouth bitterly, more as a scoff than a pleasant wish.

He didn’t even try to respond. He simply put his shoes on and left angrily, without so much as a glance back, all while knowing we would never see each other again. It had felt like the last time on previous occasions as well, but then of course, one of us would reach out and rekindle the dying flame. This time was different. When we fought in the past, I’d be crying out of what I had imagined was love for him, and he’d make a passionate exit after looking deeply into my soul and saying that he didn’t deserve me nor could he give me what I truly wanted. 

What he hadn’t realized back then is that all I wanted was him, and instead of him telling me, I don’t love you, I would replace the silence with a lyric from one of our favourite Spanish songs: te amo hasta el infinito. I love you to infinity. Yet, what I hadn’t realized back then is if I was always talking in songs and poetry, and he was responding with silent smiles, he was saying something entirely different between those brooding gaps in conversation.

But this last time, my dark-haired smooth-talking ex not only had nothing sweet to say, he didn’t even have a smile left. His eyes were two deep holes with no emotion even trying to inch its way out in the forms of tears or a laugh. I tried looking into them to catch a glimpse of the man I thought I had known even half of, but upon seeing nothingness, I fearfully looked away. I didn’t know him. 

This life-altering break-up happened two years ago. I had come to realize that I had an awful habit of confusing attachment with love and projecting the way I present myself in the world onto everyone else. And unfortunately, not everyone was so honest and full of love. I threw myself into therapy, I cried for a couple weeks, and then I decided, I would not give up on finding the man of my dreams just because I had been mistaken in the past. 

Now, here I was sitting in the home I had lovingly built with my partner who I was planning to marry in a few days, with my mouth agape at the message I had received in my email. No one ever thinks to block people from their email inbox, do they? My heart rate was elevated, and my fiancé was in the other room working on a home project. I needed a moment alone to process what he had written: 

Hello Joana. I know it’s been years and you may have forgotten about me.

I scoffed at that line. It was so undeniably like him to make a statement that he knew was completely false to get a reaction out of me. Fuck. He had succeeded. I continued to read more out of curiosity and perhaps a pang of sadness - not because there were any feelings left, but the way we had left each other had not been pleasant and so, I had sought closure on my own. That’s always a tough feat.

I’ve grown up a lot. I realize that I treated you horribly during our time together. I also realize I had some of the most fun times of my life with you. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say or do with this message, but I felt like I needed to apologize. I am sorry for everything. If you ever want to reconnect or just get a drink for old time’s sake, my number hasn’t changed. 

Hasta el infinito, amor. 

Alejandro 

I re-read the message a few times. He has not changed. There was an underlying cockiness to the apology. My number hasn’t changed. Either he truly believed that I had kept it or he knew my memory was incredible. He didn't pay enough attention to me as a person to probably know that I had the memory of an elephant. Knowing him, he likely thought I still had it saved in my phone, hoping he’d come crawling back. I am sorry for everything. It seemed like such an easy out to group every lie, disappearance, and disrespectful thing he had ever done into a concise and simple word: everything. I would have felt more inclined to respond right away if there had been more thought put into this message. Something like…I am sorry for manipulating you into providing financial support for my unrealistic ventures. I’m sorry for being forceful with intimacy. I’m sorry for making you feel like all you’ve ever been good for were sexual favours or company when I had virtually nothing else to do. I’m sorry I’d leave you hanging on a regular basis and blamed it on being busy as if no one else in this world is ever busy. I’m sorry –

I nearly dropped the mug I had been grasping for dear life when my fiancé called gently from the other room, “Baby?” 

I sucked in my breath, put the mug on the counter, and replied, “Yeah love, what’s up?”

“Just reminding you we have tickets to that jazz concert tonight, so you should probably get ready soon,” he called back. 

I smiled and a couple tears escaped. How could I even give this message any semblance of attention? 

A few years ago I had really wanted to go see an art exhibit with Alejandro. It just seemed like a romantic thing to do, and after all, I knew we’d both appreciate that kind of thing. I had bought tickets myself because he wasn’t as keen as I was due to not having enough funds at the time. Me being me decided, no big deal, I’ll cover it - I just wanted to go. I bought the tickets and the very same night, he disappeared all night and didn’t bother to reply to any of my messages. I was left confused and pacing my room the next day wondering if I should go alone or keep spamming his phone. He ended up coming just thirty minutes before the event and didn’t bother addressing a thing about the night before. I let it go because I was convinced I was in love with him and we just had to make it work. 

I felt my body clenching inwardly at the memory. Here I was, in this home I had built with a man who deeply loved me, being thrown into a spiral of anxiety and stomach-churning pain once again by words I had read. They were only words. They meant nothing. The reality was that I was with someone who planned things, who showed me on a regular basis that he valued me, who I was about to commit to for the rest of my life - something I had always been terrified of because of my parents’ failed marriage. If he truly just wanted to apologize, then he should feel better knowing that the message was received. However, I had nothing to say to him.

I picked up my phone from the table and caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on my finger, glistening under the kitchen lights and remembered the proposal.

Will you be mine…

At that point I had already been crying.

Hasta el infinito, my love?

And that’s when I had started bawling. 

Anyone can feel it deeply in their chest, in their stomach, and in their bones, when someone means every word of what they say. The same way that anyone can feel it harshly in their being when someone is being insincere. False words wrap themselves around your heart and intestines and squeeze until you feel so much bodily pain you can’t function. Lies twist around your lungs and wrap around your bronchioles a million times until you can no longer breathe. At the end of the day, I had decided that I was finished believing the lies I was telling myself. I wanted to breathe.

I glanced at the message one last time, and then deleted the email from my inbox and trash as well. I blocked the address it was sent from so as not to put myself in this awful, gut-wrenching position again.  

“And that, my sweet liar, is goodbye forever,” I whispered under my breath. 

I then pranced into the room where my fiancé was hanging some art work he had bought simply because it had reminded him of me.

I sighed happily at the life I now had and threw my arms around the neck of the man who took me to infinity and beyond.