The Lie I Told Myself

“I don’t love you anymore.”

 I saw Parker jolt as if I had shot him. A bullet might have hurt him less than my words did. He stared at me, and I could see first shock, denial, and then pain etched into his features. He stepped forwards, slowly reaching out his arm as if he wanted to take my hand. I moved back, away from him, away from us, away from all we had been and all we could’ve been. He saw me move away from him and stopped where he was, letting his arm fall to his side.

“Please, Mel, talk to me. Tell me how to fix this. I don’t want to lose you, I can’t.”

 His voice broke on the last word as emotion overcame him. He dropped into a crouch, folding in on himself and grasping his head in his hands. “Please, give me another chance, just tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it.”

I almost broke then. I almost dropped my guard and ran to him, almost threw my arms around him and cried with and comforted him. I almost did what I wanted to do, what I should have done. Almost. But almost doing something is meaningless. The only thing that matters is what you do, and what I did was to turn my back on him as I repeated, “I just don’t love you anymore.”

As I walked out the door of his apartment I didn’t look back. Once the door closed I took a shaky breath and felt my eyes flood with the tears I had been fighting back as my last words repeated incessantly in my head. I had told Parker I didn’t love him anymore.

I had lied.

Five months later, I stood at my cash register, scanning through item after item, working on autopilot as I counted down each minute until the end of my eight-hour shift. I handed the customer her receipt and told her to “Have a nice day.” I had said this so many times already that day alone that it had become automatic, a thoughtless reflex.

I started scanning through the next customer. This was a smaller purchase, just a bag of carrots, a loaf of bread and some peanut butter. I scanned through the items and read the small screen in front of me, started to tell the customer their total, but when I looked up and saw Parker in front of me, everything stopped. My words turned to dust on my tongue, my mouth suddenly parched. The constant background noise of the store faded into silence. It was as if the lights had gone dark but for a single spotlight glaring down upon this customer and me. I had to grasp the edge of the register to keep myself standing.

As I looked at his face, this face that I knew so well and that was so familiar to me even after all these long months, I could tell that he was surprised too, meaning he hadn’t purposely chosen this register knowing we would meet. He had probably done what everyone does, picked the shortest line and been oblivious to the cashier until he had to hand over his money.

I was frozen. I couldn’t seem to make my brain form coherent thoughts; everything was a scramble of emotion. I knew one of us had to do something, but it seemed as if we were both waiting to see what the other would do first. Would this be just a simple pleasant meeting of old acquaintances? Were we going to pretend we had no past and just get the transaction done with as little interaction as possible? Or was this about to be a very awkward meeting, or worst, would he get angry with me and make a scene? That didn’t sound like Parker, although I’d never been his ex before and so I couldn’t be sure what to expect.

I tried to open my mouth to say hi, hi would be harmless enough. But all that came out was “Um.”

I felt my face flush red, and wished I could be anywhere but here. Thankfully Parker had more luck controlling his mouth. “Hi Mel.” He gave me a little smile. I felt guilt drop on me like a bucket of water, drowning everything else.

It both awed and unsettled me that he was able to look right into my face with such a steady gaze. Meanwhile I was looking anywhere but at him.

“Hey Parker.” I said as I stared at the floor.

I could feel his eyes boring into me. He had always had the unnerving ability to read my emotions, as if he could look into my head and know what I was thinking. When we were together, whenever I had thrown some petty tantrum, instead of fighting me back he had always been able to talk to me and find out what was really bothering me, even if I hadn’t realized it myself. Now I felt like he could see right through me.

Gathering my resolve, I finally returned his gaze. Now that I was looking at him, I could see that he was wearing the jacket I had bought him last Christmas. His hair looked like he had just had it cut. He looked a little tired, and his eyes had a certain heaviness, a sadness, that hadn’t been there before. A fresh wave of guilt crashed over me.

Suddenly I heard someone clear their throat, which reminded me that there was a line up of customers waiting for me to cash them out so they could get on with their lives.

“How much do I owe you?” Parker asked as he pulled out his wallet.

“$9.50.”

He handed me a $10 bill and watched as I counted out his change. I started to feel panicked, like I was missing something important or forgetting to do something. In a few seconds our transaction would be over and we would be apart again. Perhaps this was the last time I would ever see him. Maybe he had a new girlfriend. Should I ask how his family was? The whole time these thoughts were thundering through my head he seemed so calm and collected. How did he do that? Maybe he had moved on and didn’t care that we had once been best friends, maybe he was content to get his change and walk away from me forever.

 To be fair, I was the one who had walked away first.

Whatever it was, he at least appeared completely in control, whereas I was the opposite. Maybe this lack of control is what caused me to do what I did next. I didn’t know what I was going to say until the words were out of my mouth, and even then I could hardly believe I had said them.

As I reached out to hand him his change, our hands touched briefly, sending a shock through my arm. As our eyes met again, I heard myself ask him, “Do you think we could get together some time?”

He looked at me for a moment as if trying to gauge my motive before answering, but he must have seen the surprise I felt that was rapidly replaced by pure embarrassment.

Still watching me closely, he answered, “What time is your shift over?”

I had never been so thankful to be working the afternoon shift and not the night shift. “I’ll be done in half an hour.”

He nodded. “Okay, why don’t I grab us some coffees and meet you out front? You still take three milk?”

For the first time during this encounter, which had felt like hours but had somehow hardly lasted two minutes, I smiled. He remembered my coffee order.

“Sounds good. Thank you Parker.”

He just smiled and nodded his head once in response before he picked up his groceries and walked off.

As I began scanning through the next customer’s items, I saw him turn and look back over his shoulder once before he left the store, as if to check that I was really there and he hadn’t just imagined the whole thing.

I could tell he was being cautious with me. He wasn’t sure what to make of me and wanted to keep me at arms length to protect himself, but what did I expect given how I had ended things with him?

Through the remainder of my shift I was on edge, minute after anxious minute dragged by until at last, I found myself clocking out, removing my name tag and grabbing my bag from locker. I stopped by the rest room on my way out to check my hair and apply some lip gloss.

My eyes found him as soon as I stepped out of the store, standing nearby, holding two cups of coffee.

He smiled as I walked over to him and he handed me one of the cups.

I smiled back, “Thanks.”

We stood together for an awkward moment. “Do you want to walk?” We used to walk along the waterfront often, and the evening air was cool and refreshing, making the idea of walking along the water inviting.

He gestured for me to lead the way and we started walking towards the water. I knew that as I had asked him to meet, he was waiting for me to take the lead conversation wise as well.

“So, how have you been?” It felt unnatural to be this formal with him. After all we had been through in our year as a couple, it was strange being so distant from him.

“I’ve been alright, still working at the hospital so that keeps me pretty busy.”

As I sipped my coffee, I thought about the night we had found out he had been hired as a pediatric nurse at the hospital. We had both been so excited and had gone out to his favourite Italian restaurant to celebrate.

“How are things with you?”

We had reached the waterfront path lined with benches. As we sat down on one, I thought about how honestly to answer his question. Should I give the quick polite answer and tell him that I was doing well. I could act as though since breaking up with him my life has flourished, and I had a new boyfriend and things were great and I was happy. But if ending things with him had taught me anything, it was that I needed to face the truth. I had lied to myself, convinced myself that I didn’t love Parker, and I had told him this lie too. Now I wanted to be as truthful as possible to myself and him.

I took a breath, and decided that whatever happened, at least I would know I had been honest.

“That’s actually why I asked if we could talk. I need to tell you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

I felt him stiffen beside me, but he let me say what I needed to say. I knew he would, because he was Parker, and Parker was kind and gentle and thoughtful and frankly, far too good for me. I had always known that. That was part of the reason I had been afraid of our happiness together. It seemed too good to be true, at least too good to last. So before anything could ruin our joy, I had ruined it myself. I had taken the easy way out, because I thought running away from him would mean that I wouldn’t have to worry about losing him. As it turned out, I had spent the last five months constantly thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, if he was alright. I had gone through denial, not wanting to admit I was a coward and had made a mistake, then anger at myself and deep, overwhelming sadness, with the heavy load of regret always weighing me down no matter what I was doing. Whenever I had a funny story to tell, or if I had a bad day at work, he was the one I wanted to talk to. Knowing I couldn’t had hurt, but knowing I made it that way was unbearable.

I didn’t expect him to be overjoyed at my confession and take me back, but I needed to try and explain what had happened. I thought I owed him that at least.

And so I did my best to help him see through the lie I had told to the truth I had hidden behind it; that he meant everything to me, and I always had, and always would, love him.

We talked for a long time and both went through a roller coaster of emotions, but when we finally hugged each other goodbye, it was as friends.

 “So remember, dinner on Tuesday night.” Parker called to me as he walked away.

I called back, “And whoever get’s there last pays for dessert.”

He laughed, an easy, natural laugh.

I knew it would be hard waiting until Tuesday to see him again, but I was happier than I had been for many months. We were going to the Italian restaurant.