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<Café De Marquis PART 4>
Her eyes were pleading with me not to contest, not to beg and not to struggle. I wasn’t near that gigantic mirror but I bet my eyes were wide. My fists were balled for sure, struggling not to bullshit her just to keep her around. I thought about things…for a moment. I decided to shut up. I let her let me have it. She started slow, listing a few instances of my bad behavior. From backing out of dinner plans to being a little too friendly with the waitress. She hollered about how I would shut down when my core values were challenged. I just wanted to talk about that shit after sex. I would have loved to talk about that shit all night after. But of course not talking about that kind of stuff makes her not want you. Cycles man….hindsight is a bitch.
“I know.” We were not improving. How I loathe being put on the spot.
“Is there someone else?” I blurted it out, I said it without looking at her and in a voice so flat I wondered if it really belonged to me.
“Do you want the gifts back?” All I could manage was talk of possessions.
“You can keep them. And I’m keeping yours.”
By this point my hands were deep in my pockets and I was looking at her old, tan carpet. My body felt cold and foreign, a suitcase for my soul…all that mortal coil stuff we heard someone read in high school English. Pretty bad shape for someone who intended on demonstrating his control over the elements in his life. Being the one who hurt instead of getting hurt; the one who made the clean breaks every time. She eventually kept talking but by they I was far away; inspecting my suitcase for damages. It doesn’t really matter what she said after anyway. She did what she needed to do…mission accomplished.
I couldn’t stop the tingles jumping through my body, I couldn’t stop the sinking feeling coming in waves. I didn’t know what they meant so I ended up just feeling generally uncomfortable. Which made my feet do that stupid shuffle thing. Which made my eyes look for something to look at besides her face. Which made the words stay behind my teeth and my hands in my pockets.
I eventually crawled away from her apartment, she watched me leave from her window and felt satisfied. She had told the truth, just like the man on the bench told her to.
I walked home in the rain and the bum didn’t say anything to me as I passed him by.
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Here we are…sitting in this same damn café but this time we are ignoring each other. This time the hodge-podge of styles in the café don’t feel comfortable and warm, but tacky and not oddly glitzy. I’m just projecting my own feeling on the café again. This time I caught myself doing it. This time there is a wall that isn’t coming down. It is over. What we had is over and I feel like it didn’t even matter to her at all. She got her clean break and I am just torn and frayed. This tea is terrible and I regret paying for it. I regret even coming here. I wasn’t even thirsty. Just my luck I happen to run into the person I want to see the least in my favorite place.
She sits with her back to me, reading a book with a half empty blue smoothie resting on the table. Her fresh pack of cigarettes lay beside it. Heather always liked this place because she could smoke here. I’m sure there are other reasons but that is the main one. I wonder did she even see me when came in, did she even look up. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.
It is probably for the best. She is better off without me. I was distant and fake to her. I’m distant and fake to everyone. It was how I played the game. I just did poorly this quarter. After a time out I’ll be fine. I look up from the paper just in time to watch as my ex girlfriend gets up to leave, taking slow but sure steps out of Café de Marquis.
‘Don’t let her go’
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