"Has He Hurt You?"

The 90 degree heat of this August day was getting to my head. 

Sweat rolled down my face in little beads, I wiped it away with the back of my hand. 

I was in a parking lot of traffic, cars honked, people were yelling from their windows, some woman had even gotten out of her car and was leaning against the driver side door. 

Clearly the heat wasn’t doing much to the people around me, as a teenager in the car to my right scrolled aimlessly on her phone. 

An older man in the car to my left flipped through a newspaper, while laughing to his buddy, who drove the car. 

I slammed my palm down on the steering wheel, for the air conditioning in my car was doing little to nothing, and I was about to melt. 

Luckily, it seemed as if my little gesture of rage had triggered something, as the cars slowly began to inch forward. 

Slowly but surely, I managed to get to the exit. Finally, I was going to see her. 

Margaret Levine, my ex-girlfriend. 

I’m still in love with her, and I think she’s in love with me, but I’m not sure. I arranged this lunch to talk about things, I know what I’m going to say, I know how I’m going to sit, smile, and add gestures with my hands for no reason, because I know she likes that kind of thing. 

As I turn down the roundabout, entering Margaret’s little town called Riverstoll, my heart beats a little faster, and my emotions are a little more heightened. 

I was almost there, turning into Margaret’s neighborhood, a small, close knit community called Pecos Ranch. 

Memories began to flood my senses when I pulled onto her street. I remember how I sped down this road when she said she was feeling sick. 

I remember how I eased my new car down the street, surprising Margaret with balloons and her favorite movie on DVD for a birthday celebration. 

I remember when I was about to meet Margaret’s parents, and almost got a ticket, I was going so fast. 

I tell myself that now is not the time to start getting all icky with emotions, that right now, I have to be confident and strong. 

I park my car in the usual spot behind Margaret’s white sedan. Even seeing her car starts a small little ping in my heart. 

I miss her. 

Grabbing the small gift bag that contains the perfume I bought her, I get out of the car and take a deep breath. 

Here I am, staring at Margaret’s townhome, taking steps towards her townhome, walking up the stairs and ringing the doorbell, standing a little taller. 

I predict what it’ll be like when she opens the door, maybe the smell of her famous lasagna drifting out. Maybe she’s wearing her special red sweater, the one her mom bought her. Maybe her hair’s in a ponytail, maybe it’s down, maybe it’s braided. 

But what I don’t expect is when the door opens, it’s not Margaret at all. 

It’s a man. 

His hair is dark, his eyes are dark, and he wears nothing but an ACDC T-shirt and boxer shorts. I gasp a little, unable to control my surprise. 

It’s almost a little funny though, how this man is exactly the opposite of what I look like, my beach blue eyes and bleach blonde hair. 

He looks me up and down. “You selling something?” He sounds incredibly accusatory, and I shake my head. 

“No, No, I’m here to see Margaret.” I say, smiling a little bit at just being able to say her name out loud again. 

He nods, looking confused and not taking his gaze from me, but shouting back into the house, “Margo? Some guy is here for you!” 

Margo?

Seconds later, there she is, coming down the stairs, still tying her dark pink silk robe around herself. 

She looks perfect, her hair is a little bit darker, and cut into thicker layers. Her eyes look brighter, and if it’s even possible, bluer. She’s still at that perfect height, where the top of her head came right under my chin. 

She stops in her tracks when she sees me.

“Cody?” The shock on her face is surprising. 

Could she have forgotten?

I nod, “Yeah, it’s me.” 

Margaret rushes forward, pushing the guy away and muttering something about making breakfast before shutting the door behind her, and then it’s just me and her, standing on her porch. 

“Hi.” I chuckle, smiling a little. 

Margaret smiles weakly, “What are you doing here?” 

I shake my head in a “duh” kind of way. “Um, we had a lunch planned?” 

Her eyes go wide, and a hand goes to her forehead. 

I guess she could have forgotten. 

“Oh crap Cody, I’m sorry, things have been so crazy lately, I totally forgot.” She looks sympathetic now, but she still doesn’t look that overjoyed to see me. 

At least, not as happy as I’d want her to be. 

She points to the light pink gift bag that hangs limply at my side. “Is that for me?” 

I nod, holding up the bag, and she takes it, holding it at her side like it didn’t matter.

“Cody, what are you really doing here?” She asks, her smile faded, the sympathy gone, she looks mildly annoyed. 

“I told you, we had lunch.” 

Margaret shakes her head, “No, I mean, why did you want this rendezvous, why did you just have to meet with me?” 

I shrug, not really sure how to put the answer lightly, so I don’t. 

“I still love you.” I keep my eyes hopeful and my stance tall, as if the way I present myself is going to win her over. 

Margaret’s eyes go wide again, “Oh geez.” She mutters, placing two hands on her hips and letting out a breath. 

“Yep.” I’m not sure what to say, as the opposite of what I was expecting to happen, and what I prepared for is taking place. 

“Cody, I don’t feel like that anymore.” 

7 words. One mouth. 10 syllables. One broken heart. 

My mouth falls open a little. 

Margaret makes an astonished sound, and looks away. “C’mon, I mean, it’s been almost a year, you really expect me to feel the same way I did before you broke things off?” She exclaims, poking me in the chest when she says the word “you”. 

I shake my head, “I mean, I guess not, but who is that trailer park trash in there?” I motion to the door, unable to preview what I said before I said it. 

Margaret looks offended. 

“He is not trailer park trash, he is kind, and he cares about me.” She looks at me skeptically. 

“What have you done?” I whisper, she looks down, I tilt her chin up with my finger, she pushes my hand away. 

“What do you mean?” She doesn’t look interested in talking to me, and I now realize the reality of the situation, and I’m generally surprised that she was okay talking to me to begin with. 

“He called you Margo, your hair is darker, your nails are painted black, and you hold yourself like a high-schooler.” I mutter, staring at her. 

Margaret laughs in astonishment again, “Oh my god, I mean, of course, perfect, perfect Cody, coming to my house, to insult my boyfriend, my looks, my personality? You’re such an asshole.” 

I shake my head, grabbing her by the elbows. “No, Margaret, that’s not what I’m trying to tell you, I just want to talk to you.” 

She squirms out from my touch, “Don’t touch me, and no! I don’t want to talk to you anymore, you were the one that ended things with me, so why are you the one that wants to come back?” 

I froze for a moment. 

She has a point. Why am I the one that wants to rekindle our relationship? 

Margaret sees my realization, and inches towards her door. 

“Exactly, think about that.” She mutters, and starts to turn her doorknob, but I catch her arm. She yanks it away. 

“I said, don’t touch me!” She shouts, and the door is opened without Margaret even doing a thing, for there stands her trailer park dude, this time wearing pants, jeans to be exact. 

“Leave her alone, man.” He growls, yanking Margaret inside the house. 

“Hey, Josh, that hurt.” She whispers, rubbing the spot on her wrist that he grabbed. 

I don’t focus on Josh, I focus on Margaret, who looks in pain, annoyed, and tired. 

She looks tired. 

I only realized something about her appearance now. 

The dark, dark, circles under her eyes, the purple and yellow bruises that snake up and down her wrists, slightly covered by the sleeves of her robe. 

The bruises and scratches on her legs, out in the open. 

“Has he hurt you?” I say under my breath, looking Josh in the eye. 

Margaret moves in between the two of us, tears pricking the edge of her eyes. 

“Cody this isn’t your business, okay? I’m sorry, but I’ve built a life outside of you, and I-I just don’t have feelings like that for you anymore.” She tells me, placing two hands on my chest and giving me a gentle push. 

She steps fully into her home, pushing Josh away, and telling him to make eggs. 

As Josh walks down the hallway towards the kitchen, Margaret looks at me solemnly. 

Her lips are pursed, she’s crying a little. 

This is not what I intended to do here today. 

I feel horrible, a lurching feeling in my gut overcomes me. 

“We’re just too different, Cody. I can't be with you, not anymore.” She says, her voice soft, but demanding and painful at the same time. 

I shake my head and turn away, managing to stumble down the stairs and into my car. 

I don’t look back at the house as I pull away, but manage to catch a glimpse of Margaret closing the door, shaking her head a little as I drive away. 

This time, I slam my palms against the steering wheel again, but for a different reason. 

For pain. For love. 

We’re just too different

Her words play like a broken record through my head, over and over until tears blind my eyes and my hands are beaten to a pulp from slamming against things in my car. 

I feel so foolish, because I know Margaret’s right. 

Why did I end things with her? I know I still have feelings for her, I know I still care about her, so why did I do that? 

I drive all the way home drowning in self misery, and by the time I’ve collapsed on my couch I’m so burnt out from crying, and then feeling stupid as I cry, telling myself, “Cody, you’re man, act like one.” 

So, I turn on the TV, and stare blankly at the screen, mulling over the thought. 

I’ve lost her. 

Day after day passes, and I still can’t get over the fact that Margaret’s truly gone. 

There’s no more driving to her house to apologize. No more getting her perfumes and shit to win her over. No more. It’s all done. 

Then, one morning, maybe 4 days after I’d gone to Margaret’s, I woke up, and decided to be productive. 

I take a shower and brush my teeth, and while I scrubbed my back molars, I thought, 

Well that was a freaking downer.

And I ate breakfast with a sad smile on my face.