I looked in the mirror, taking a final swig from a bottle of Sainsbury’s brand red wine. A gulp of courage as I wiped some stray mascara from under my eye. The Suitor and I were due to end our 9 month relationship in 10 minutes time. The time bomb couldn’t be defused. I put on my favorite trench coat from Anthropologie, checked my perfectly painted face again, gave my hair one more spritz of Boots hairspray and walked out the door.
I named the time. I named the place. Starbucks, Clapham Common. 7pm. He might be laying our relationship to rest but I was going to make the funeral arrangements.
There he sat, I made sure I was 10 minutes late, with a big mug of coffee, reading the Metro. I assumed he was reading the science section, he always read that bit first. I looked at him and felt numb, who was this man? But I smiled and sat down. We talked about the coffee, I know he hates it so why was he drinking it, and about how he had to study, always had to study. He said he thought I was probably upset about the text message last week. The text message where he told me I couldn’t come over. He said that he had needed time to himself. I said it was upsetting, that I could take a hint.
I paused….
I said “It’s not working is it?” Shaking my head. And he said no.
“I think we should break up,” he said.
I agree, “We’ve been trying to revive a dead horse huh?”
He responded with “Ya I guess.”
I told him lets not point figures, we’ve had some good times and its time to part ways. Cliches I know, but I couldn’t think of anything better.
Honestly I couldn’t bear to hear the reason why he would reject me. I smiled even though my eyes were a little misty.
He said he hoped we could remain in contact, he hoped things wouldn’t be awkward if we saw each other at a party. He was trying to ease his conscience. I assured him that they wouldn’t, but that it might take a few weeks.
I talked about the birthday party I was going to on Old Street. A lie because I wanted to look gorgeous when we broke up. I said he could come pick up his TV and VCR when he wanted. He said he was going to give it to charity anyway. We made a bit more small talk.
“Is this a bit awkward?” I asked.
“Yes it is” he said. The most honest thing he’s ever told me.
I said I should go anyway, I’m expected at the party. I smiled again and said I’d see him around. I hoped I wouldn’t, not for a while at least. And when I did see him, I’d be thinner and happier, and hanging on the arm of someone who I was genuinely in love with, and he would love me too.
I got up from the table, was everyone in Starbucks watching me? Out the door quickly.
I rounded the corner at Clapham Common tube station, just out of his sight. But instead of going into the station I walked on, past through the Common in the direction of home. I bit my lip and choked back the tears until I found a bench overlooking the grassy fields. Big tears, like the rains of Hawaii rolled down my cheeks and I stared blankly at the sunset. The light was exactly as Claude Monet depicted it in his painting of the houses of parliament. In the dusk of evening the sun glowed a rosy polluted pink. A swan and some ducks waddled past and beyond a football matched carried on despite the quickly diminishing light. The world cant be this beautiful when my life seems so ugly.
My janky mobile phone buzzed, my housemate, Emma. I tried again to hold back the tears as she talked about meeting up for the weekly pub quiz tomorrow.
Eventually I got up from the bench and continued walking slow like gum was stuck to the bottom of each shoe. Walked past men in suits just getting home from work in the city, past couples jogging, past the usual beggar by the ATM, feeling more horrifically alone than I ever had before.
I made it home, up the 2 flights of stairs, into my room, I collapsed to the floor and wept with my head in my hands.