Over You

“You’re going to leave me alone at Christmas…”

“You’ll be okay. You said you had to work that day. You’ll be too busy to notice I’m gone.”

That’s not exactly how it would work, and we both knew it. I’d had it. I had gone out of my way to get you really thoughtful birthday gifts just a week before, even though you’d been treating me like crap. I’d been doing everything I could to make this work. All of the effort was on my part, and now you were flying back home for Christmas and leaving me alone in a new city, a new state to fend for myself.

“Go to church. Lots of people go to church on Christmas.”

You went on with your plans. “I’ll be back January 3rd. We’re going out New Year’s Eve so I want a couple of days to recover.” Oh, great.

I began to think how wise I’d been not to move in with you. It’s not that I was such a conservative give-me-the-ring kind of person. It’s that I wasn’t sure of you. This move had been good for me, but not because of us. I’d never been able to explain that to you. I’d needed to leave home, to get away from the place I’d lived all my life and experience something new.

We celebrated our Christmas the Saturday before you left. You were disappointed with the gifts I got you, and said so. “You did so good with my birthday gifts…” Not that your gifts to me were anything to brag about, but you couldn’t — or wouldn’t — see that. I didn’t say anything.

I drove you to the airport the next morning and dropped you off at the terminal. “See you January 3rd!” you said cheerily.

“No,” I said firmly. “That’s it. It’s over. I’ll take care of your house while you’re gone, feed your cat like I promised, but I’m done.” You looked at me quizzically and left. I knew you didn’t believe me.

Not one phone call for nearly the entire three weeks, but you had an excuse: I’d broken up with you. Finally, New Year’s Eve day, you called. I didn’t answer, but you left a message. “I’m coming home early. My flight gets in at 10:00 p.m.”

I’m not picking you up. I had no plans, but I turned all the lights out about 9:45, just in case you were early. I knew you’d have a hard time getting a cab home to your place, you lived so far from the city limits. I knew you’d head to my apartment. You did.

Pounding on my door. I didn’t answer. Swearing.

The next day around noon you called. I still didn’t answer. I put your key in a padded envelope and mailed it to you.

You called again.”What the hell are you doing mailing my house key to me? Anybody could’ve gotten it and broken into my house.”

This time I returned your call. “It’s over.” I said. “Got it? It’s over.” Silence. You hang up.

You tried calling a few more times, but I’m done. I’m over you.

Photo Credits: (swan) © Indiloo Designs – Fotolia; (heart in window) © robsonphoto — Fotolia