Love Undone

All that was left was a crumpled ten dollar bill and a greasy paper bag. There wasn’t even the stench of bad take-out in the apartment and yet, I was sick to the core. I wish we hadn’t stayed in last night. Why didn’t we go to Julia’s housewarming? She was only my closest friend in the world and he knew that. He knew all too well that she was one of the few girlfriends I had left but he didn’t care. He claimed that she was jealous of our relationship; he reasoned that she was out to ruin what we had worked so hard to achieve – nearly two years of overcoming petty arguments and celebrating dating bliss.

On our fifth date, Ben told me he was starting to fall for me. He was sincere, intelligent, ambitious, and funny. He loved to talk and even more so, he always seemed interested in what I had to say. Even when he didn’t agree with me on a certain issue, he would merely silence me with a kiss and tell me how cute I was for speaking my mind. And I believed him. I believed everything he told me because I was falling for him too.

I believed in him and our love. I think he believed in me too but somewhere down the road, he stopped respecting me. Maybe I shouldn’t have passed on the job promotion in Boston, but I knew his last long-distance relationship had failed miserably. Or maybe it was my dropping my night class, but I had good intentions – I wanted to have more time to spend with him. I justified all these acts and more by convincing myself that our love was more important, that he was more important. But I sensed that he wasn’t satisfied with my gestures of love, so I tried harder.

After one year of serious dating, we, or rather he decided that we should move in together. I had just graduated from college, so I thought it was a practical idea…after all, I needed to find an apartment anyway. Three days after graduation, I packed up all of my belongings and despite the lack of support from my parents, I moved in with Ben. At first, living together turned out to be a great idea and a wonderful experience. I loved waking up every morning with him beside me. I made dinner on weeknights and Ben would bring home flowers for the apartment almost everyday. He said the flowers could remind me of him in his absence and I told myself I loved him even more than I had imagined.

I loved him. I still love him. But that wasn’t enough, I realize now. Last night, for the first time that I can remember, Ben didn’t want to talk. We ate our meal in complete silence and after he finished, he instinctively walked over to the window. He said our view of the city was magnificent and that he was amazed by how much movement and change occurred right outside of our window. He said watching everything outside reminded him of his ambition – he wanted to start his own company, buy a condo in the city, and travel more. Ben always shared his dreams with me – they were ours – but tonight, he spoke of his future as if he had already moved on without me. He turned back towards the window and his gaze froze on the night sky as though he were silently mourning something he had lost or was wishing he were out there looking for something he hadn’t yet found. From the reflection in the glass, I saw the face of love for the last time. I whispered his name but he merely lowered his eyes. If he had seen the anguish on my face, he wouldn’t have walked out the door. Perhaps he wasn’t looking hard enough. Or perhaps he chose not to look back.

Next week would have been our two-year anniversary. He hated planning our nights out, so I made reservations for us at his favorite restaurant. I bought a new dress and I even splurged on an absurdly expensive stereo system for him. God, what cruel irony this is that I’m sitting here listening to part two of his gift – a CD I made of fifteen love songs that remind me of us. What does Brian McKnight know about our love anyway? Romance died a long time ago and to think about it, so did I.

(my original submission for a short story contest, October 2000)