Ex-Requited

“Don’t even fucking think about sending that.”

I thought you were happy…I’m sorry. It was only the start of a long paragraph of text. I sat mesmerized by the cursor popping in and out on the screen in an endless rhythm, reading over the words I had spent the past hour constructing. I had never intended it to come out this long, but rambling was hardly something new in our conversations together.

“Peter!”

My eyes snapped back to the present as I looked up to see my annoyed friend ever-so-slightly breaching my comfort zone in a desperate effort to get through to me.

“I would say ‘welcome back to the world of the living,’ but I doubt either of us consider being here to be a blessing,” Cody sighed. “Now, please tell me you’re not thinking about texting her again. Not after all the shit you showed me.”

I considered my options for how to respond to such an accusation, but the words didn’t come. I had essentially known this man since my birth, and by this point he knew me better than I knew myself. I didn’t need to humor his question with a lie he would only see through.

“Come on, let me see this,” Cody said as he made a sudden leap for my phone. I tried to pull it away before he could see the depressing display still waiting on the screen to no avail. He always had been the quicker one between the two of us. Cody cleared his throat dramatically before reading the first words he saw aloud. “‘It truly stings that I’m begging for a scrap of human decency from you, but I’d still give anything for you to talk to me like a real person.’ Christ, dude, you’re a regular ball of fuckin’ sunshine! Are you trying to become part of her Taylor Swift horror story, Peter? Because you’re about to be the next victim.”

I snatched my phone back from his hand before he could spy any further and scowled at him. “What, do you expect me to not sound bitter after the way Gwen cut me off?”

“No, I expect you to stop trying to reach out to someone who clearly doesn’t give a fuck whether or not you’re okay,” Cody replied. His words were as abrasive as ever but there was a soft, genuine tone to his voice that wasn’t common for him. He must have been serious. “Look, Gwen did show a lot of promise once upon a time. It’s unfortunate for both of you that she chose to play things out so carelessly. But you are not the one with the problem here. Do you really think trying to force a conversation is going to make her suddenly care about you again?”

“I…” I began, but words failed to find their way from my mind to my mouth. He was right. I knew that much. “I want to at least believe it could happen.”

“Peter, if Gwen cared about your health, she would have made some kind of effort by now. Anything she says or does from here onward is for her own sake, not yours. Hell, do you not remember what happened last week? Or rather…what almost happened?” His voice cracked mid-sentence unexpectedly, causing me to wince.

I did remember. I knew what was coming as soon as Cody brought it up and tried desperately to keep my mind from reflecting on it, but a dark cloud enveloped my thoughts until I couldn’t see anything else. My vision went dark. Until suddenly, I was sitting back in that spot once again, swinging alone in the night, desperately searching for a desire to live. Instead, I had found nothing but reminders of those haunting words that were seared under my eyelids every time I closed my eyes.

“I hate that I made you think there is something wrong with you. This is all on me.”

“I want you to find someone who doesn’t keep you guessing all the time. That’s not me.”

“I hate hate hate that this is coming in a text, but you know I probably couldn’t articulate it well in person. I’ve given you mixed signals and I hate that.”

“I still feel like we can be friends, Peter, for real…but I’m not good for you, really.”

“It’s best if we cease all communication.”

I wiped a tear from my eye in frustration. That was the line that really finished it. It had been crazy just how far and how fast things had plummeted, but why was I getting so angry with myself for mistakes made by someone else?

My introspection was interrupted as the darkness of the night was split in half by red and blue lights in the near distance. Cody appeared, flanked by two officers, tears dotting his eyes. I had never seen him in such a state, but my mind was not in the right place to react at that moment.

“Put that thing down, man, please!” Cody pleaded with me, gesturing to my shaking hands. “Nothing is worth this, do you hear me? Not a fucking thing.”

I looked down to my hands in confusion and nearly fell off of the swing in shock. The kitchen knife lowered from its pointed position against my chest, escaped my unstable grip, and softly tumbled into the grass below unceremoniously. Its reflection shined back into my face, showing nothing but a pathetic display of wet eyes and a torn spirit. The freedom the blade could have offered me fell down with it.

How long had I been holding that? The small hole that now decorated the center of my shirt stared back at me. A couple drops of blood dotted the dirt below like an amateur’s Picasso tribute. I hadn’t even noticed the pain that only then came rushing over me from the shallow incision. Not good enough.

I raised my gaze from the painted knife glinting in the moonlight back up to my speechless friend. I stared deeply into his eyes helplessly until I crumbled into nothing and suddenly found myself back in the present, where those same eyes faced me with similar concern.

“Yeah, I remember,” I said harshly. I felt my eyes fighting to keep from a repeat performance of the image reflected that night. Even after all of that, Gwen hadn’t reached out. “Look, how about we go hit the town or something? I’m in desperate need of a distraction.”

Cody seemed tempted but stopped himself. “I’d love to, but those officers did recommend you stay inside with someone you trust for the time being. Tell you what, how about I make you the old Peter Special? You can vent out your frustrations and get some nutrition on those bones,” he lamented. “You’ll forget about that bitch in no time. Scout’s honor!” As if to further his point, he raised a palm to his heart.

I picked myself up, but as soon as he disappeared through the kitchen door, my worst intuition took hold and quickly tapped send on the mass of pre-written text still standing by on my screen. A moment of silent regret as it processed, but then it was done.

Delivered, 5:05pm. Opened, 5:06pm.

Typing…typing…

Opened, 5:06pm.