“This is not even remotely funny you ass! We talked about this!” I tried to laugh, but my voice just cracked. I felt like a was hit on the head with Mjolnir. Could it be true? Did he mean it? Was this a bad joke?
“I´m not trying to be funny. I don´t think this´ll work anymore. I want out. I´m really sorry, but I want for something else, someone else. “
My brain short-circuited a few times, I just couldn´t wrap my mind around it. I really thought, we had something good going on. We were both damaged people and this was a good reason for us working so well together – or so I thought.
“You mean it? You wanna break up.. with me?” I asked again. His “Yeah, I´m deeply sorry. You are a great person but it´s not enough and you deserve.. blah blah…” turning into gibberish, my core went numb. Funny, I missed the numb feeling, now I could recall. It was good not to feel anything. Or didn´t I? What was the underlying little voice in my head? Crying, not softly but with vengeance? I pushed it away, welcoming the numbness. Okay, so he WAS leaving me, he WAS not in love with me.. Was he ever? We never said those words, they seemed so intimate, so vulnerable, so without protection. But I thought (again, just my thoughts) he was okay with it. He wanted this. Being casual around each other, being comfortable without analyzing and commenting on everything.. Huh, seemed to be a wrong conclusion on my part. He didn´t love me. He liked me, this I knew.. but maybe not? Maybe I was just someone very convenient for him to be with? To share life, when he was around? To share sex?
My brain did a short circuit – again. Everything seemed foggy, my feelings, my thoughts…
I looked up and met with cerulean orbs. He looked disturbed. Why?
“Sarah, can you hear me?”
“Yes”, I nodded. Was he gonna stand there and pity me? I must seem like a child to him I thought.
“Sarah, I´m so sorry..” he began, but I interrupted him: “Okay, I get it. If this is what you want…. I´ll accept it.” My voice broke.
With these words I tried to leave his apartment and turned to the door. The feeling of a cold hand on my wrist surprised me. “What?” I looked at him perplexed.
“You look pale, Sarah. I didn´t want to hurt you..”.
“Please let go of my wrist.” Annoyed I yanked at my arm and was relieved when he let go. He was just looking at me, eyes soft and pleading. But there was something else. Like yearning. Like he was heartbroken himself. But why? Must be wrong..
Again, I turned to the door and this time he didn´t stop me. I left. His apartment, the compound, his life. And therefore, my life as well.