Bittersweet

I stood there not knowing what to do. I wanted to blame myself for coming here. I wanted to blame him for coming here. I wanted to blame the little bimbo dangling on his arm for simply existing.

Okay.

So maybe she’s not a bimbo but coming to a reunion knowing that the still bitter, still in love ex-girlfriend of her current boyfriend makes her a bimbo in my list.

Okay.

So maybe she doesn’t know I’ll be here. Maybe she doesn’t even know that I’m an ex-girlfriend. Oh hell. Who am I kidding? She’s my ex’s coworker. And a month after I got dumped they already went public. Yes, I got dumped. Does that explain why I’m this bitter and confused? Yes. Does that explain why I want to set her tiny dress on fire, with her in it, and watch that smug smile disappear from her face? No.

So, I stood there and decided the only thing I can do was leave. I just can’t be in the same room with them. Not now and maybe not ever.

As I turned to look for our hostess, I felt him behind me. I knew it was him even before he spoke my name.

“Amie.” Yes, my mom named me love, only in French. And, guess what? It did not save me from wishing the ground would just swallow me whole right now.

I pretended not to hear him. I turned and went straight to the main door. I was just crossing the threshold when I felt his hand on my shoulder, “Amie, please.”

“Let me go, Nick. I can’t do this right now. Please, just, let me go.”

“Amie, please. I just wanted to know if you’re ok.”

Hearing that made me turn and look at him. I looked at him and saw, once more, what made me fall in love with him. I saw him and remembered everything, everything that made me happy, sad, desperate, and ecstatic. But it also brought back memories of the past couple of months and that made the most impact. I started to laugh, that hysterical laugh that bubbles up and forces its way out when you no longer know what to feel and what to think.

“You want to know if I’m ok. You, of all people?”

“Yes.” He replied with a confused look on his face.

And seeing the confused look on his face just made me shake with hysteria once again. Between shaking my head, laughing hysterically, and battling to breathe I managed to answer him, “You’ll never know how I’m doing, Nick. Not now. Not ever, again. You gave up that right when you left me.”

With that I left him standing by the door and walked as swiftly as my shaking body would allow me. I did not turn to look back at him because the hysteria is starting to turn into an entirely different kind. By the time I got to my car my vision was so blurred that I could hardly unlock the door.

But, I managed. I managed to unlock the door. I managed to get in my car. I managed to stop crying and wipe my face dry. And I managed to drive myself home.

I managed all of these and I know that I’ll manage to keep living my life one day at a time until I can find a new reason to live for.