From the moment my alarm went off, the day was a disaster. When I opened my eyes and rolled over in my bed, I rolled into a puddle of water that had been dripping from the ceiling for God knows how long. I slipped in the shower while shaving my legs, leaving a 6-inch slit from my ankle up the back of my calf. My coffee was garbage, the filter folded over leaving me with murky water loaded with coffee grinds. The top button of my pants popped off when I sat down at my desk. I opened a fraudulent link in an email and entered my information into the screen because I’m an idiot. Then I spent three hours with the IT department being lectured about phishing and internet security. By lunch, I was ready to fake sick and head home, but had second thoughts remembering that my bedroom could potentially resemble a small lake at this point, knowing my super, and that wouldn’t improve my mood.
So, I kept on trucking through lunch, ordering chicken tacos and receiving fish. For some people that might be tolerable but considering I can’t stand the smell of haddock let alone stomach the taste, my lunch ended up in the garbage. My forefinger had not one, but two papercuts, oh, and get this, I snapped the heel off my favorite shoes while walking to my car at the end of the day. It was one for the record books. I’ve had bad days before, dealt with bigger and badder moments, but never one with a constant stream of continuous torture.
Instead of going home to whatever disaster was awaiting, I called Myles. My escape would be take-out, wine, and my boyfriend. At least one thing in my horrible day could go right.
With the music blaring, I sang at the top of my lungs on the drive to my favorite Chinese restaurant. I ordered two combos, waited fifteen minutes, and took my take-out bag. After pulling into Myles’ driveway, I got out and bent over to grab the take-out on the passenger’s side, splitting the seam of my pants in the process.
“For the love of shit.” I cursed, standing up and hitting my head on the door frame. Balancing the paper bag in one hand, I rubbed the sore spot on my head with the other. I was just about to shut the door when I realized something warm was dripping down my forearm. It took me a couple of seconds to clue in that the sauce from the containers was leaking through the bag. The sauce had made its way down my arm and onto my newly ripped pants. Flustered and done with my streak of bad luck, I slammed the door and marched to Myles’ front door.
Myles was standing in the doorway taking it all in. His girlfriend in all her glory, unbalanced on uneven shoes, wearing beige pants streaked with bright red sweet and sour sauce. Winner, winner, Chinese dinner.
“What happened to you?” He couldn’t contain his laughter and rightfully so. If things had been the other way around, I would have had a field day.
“It’s been a day.” I sighed, handing him the dripping, sticky, take-out bag. Pushing my hair out of my face, I realized my mistake when my hair caught in the stickiness on my skin. “Of course, I would manage to get food in my hair.” My patience with things was nearing an end. My eyes were burning with unshed tears that were begging for release after dealing with the overwhelming crapshoot of a day.
“Why don’t you run to the bathroom and clean your hair. I’ll dish out the food. I think we should probably use plates.”
“Do you have any plastic ones? That would probably be safer for all involved given my level of clumsiness today.” I kicked off the broken shoes. Sadly, they would be heading to the garbage when I got home.
“Are your pants split?” Myles exclaimed when I bent down to move my shoes into his closet.
“Oh, haven’t you heard? Split pants are the new thing. It’s like when girls used to wear their thongs above their pants, except backward. Sort of.” I joked, more amused with my humor than he was. His face was somber, prompting me to give a more practical response. “They split outside in the driveway when I leaned down to pick up the food. I’ve seriously had the worst day. I’ll fill you in once I wash this stuff out of my hair.”
“Grab a pair of sweatpants from my room too. That way you can get out of those pants.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. Whether or not he was aware, those sweatpants would be coming home with me tonight. My shoes would need to wait until I got home for their trip to the garbage, but these ripped, stained babies right here, they would be starting their voyage to the dump ASAP.
Myles had two plates loaded with rice, chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, and beef and broccoli on the table with two glasses of red wine. My eyes darted to the wine, an oasis after walking through the desert.
“Thank you!” I pressed a hard kiss to his lips before sitting down to eat.
“Well, you brought the food. The least I could do was make sure it didn’t end up on the floor.” He chuckled and forked rice into his mouth. “So, this day of yours?”
“I swear, anything that could have gone wrong did.” For twenty minutes I relived my day, not leaving out a single detail. By the time I’d arrived at the mishaps just outside of his door, I felt so much better. The dark clouds of the day had lifted.
We followed dinner with a second glass of wine, cuddled up on his couch watching television and sharing kisses. Things had finally turned around and the day ended a hell of a lot better than it had started.
***
I don’t think we should see each other anymore.
The words stared up at me from the screen of my phone. No matter how many times I read them, they still said the same thing. Myles was breaking up with me. Via text! Eight months of dating and he had the nerve to end it while hiding behind a screen.
Was I supposed to respond? I had zero experience with being dumped, let alone being tossed aside by technology. Three times I typed an explicit laced response, only to delete everything, wishing he had the guts to say it to my face. At least then my reaction would have just happened, instead of the awkward debate and over-analyzing of what to say. It wasn’t something I could just wing. I needed help or at the very least a second opinion. So, I called Ally.
“Hey, Mags.” Ally greeted. The background was silent for a change.
“Is your house actually quiet?” I asked, surprise in my tone.
“It is. The girls are sleeping, and Tim is out of town with the band for a couple of days.”
“That must be nice. You deserve some downtime.” The girl was run ragged most days, taking care of the girls while having a husband always on the road.
She laughed. “You would think I’d be enjoying myself, but really, I’m just going crazy. I’m not used to the house being this quiet. It’s weird. Needless to say, I’m happy you called. Take my mind off it.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I called with a boatload of drama, then.”
“Oh, God. What happened?” Ally was used to my petulance for drama, but I had scaled it back since she moved away, and even more after I started dating Myles.
“I just got a text from Myles. He broke up with me.”
“Over text?” She sounded as shocked as I was. “Who the hell does that? Oh god. I guess I’m guilty of worse. I only left Tim a note when I left him.”
“Your situation was a little different. You left a note because you didn’t want to leave. This whole text dumping, it’s like Myles doesn’t even care.”
“Maybe he thought it would be too emotional to do it face-to-face?” She was grasping at straws. Myles and I worked, we had fun and things were simple. But our relationship had never made any real traction. The emotions were low key at best.
“Definitely not. It was just easier and faster to do it with a few keystrokes on a phone.”
“Well, that just sucks ass, Mags. I’m sorry.” Her concern was genuine.
“I think I’m okay with the whole thing. I just wish he hadn’t done it through text. I mean, what am I supposed to send back? Or am I even supposed to respond?” That’s what I really wanted to know.
“Oh, I think you should respond, with a few choice words.”
“So, if I do respond, that’s okay?” I wanted to respond. It would be weird to just let his message stand without saying my piece.
“I think it’s expected. Anyone would respond. You deserve an explanation.”
“Does it really matter? His reasons for ending it are irrelevant now.” Placing Ally on speaker, I opened the text message and typed out my response.
Okay, sounds good. Take care.
I hit send before I could overthink the message.
“There. I just sent a response.”
“What did you say?” Ally asked, fully invested.
“Just said, ‘Okay, sounds good. Take care.’”
“No, you didn’t. ‘Sounds good’? Seriously?”
“Well, what was I supposed to say? I don’t want him to think I’m over here crying about it.”
Did you ever really care?
Myles’ message popped up on my screen.
“What the hell?” My voice raised a little too much, taken back by his message.
“What?”
“He just texted back and said, ‘Did you ever really care?’. How can he say that? I wasn’t the one who ended things through text.”
“What an asshole!”
“See, I told you I would bring the drama. I’m not responding to that. We’ll just end up arguing and I don’t feel like dealing with that.” I meant it too. No matter how much his words bothered me, it wasn’t worth the time or energy to fight it out. Not when the outcome would be the same.
“And you never fail to deliver.” Ally laughed again. “I wish we lived closer. You should move here.”
“I like it here.” I might not have anything concrete keeping me in Texas, but I did have friends, a job, and was comfortable there. Following Ally, would feel like intruding on her life, not building my own. I wasn’t willing to do that. Not even for my best friend.
“You should come to visit soon then. It’s been too long.”
“That I will agree to.” By the end of the conversation, I had a roundtrip flight booked for the next weekend and something to look forward to.
Despite the excitement of my upcoming trip, Myles’ words were still on my mind while I laid in bed. I thought I cared. I tried to care, but what If I’d only been trying to try? What if I never really wanted us to last?