Looking
PART 3
So we made it through high school, relatively unscathed, except poor Jessie
still has emotional scars from her afternoon chat with her mom. I still have
physical scars from the first (and only) time I brought it up later and tried to
joke about it. I should have learned my lesson the first time. Apparently it's
not the type of thing you can look back and laugh at, even years later.
We did have to endure the occasional taunts of our ignorant peers, but overall,
we were pretty lucky. University life made things a little trickier. After I
spent a year taking pre-requisites at a local college, waiting for Jessie to
finish high school, we both attended Harvard. (A/N: I have no idea what programs
are offered at any American university, so I just picked Harvard and am
pretending it has everything I need it to have for this story. Capiche?) In my
senior year of high school, I had discovered a passion for writing.
Despite always doing well in English classes, I never really enjoyed the
subject. I think it had to do with the teachers because I hated Dimitri, but I
adored my teacher in my final year at Upton Sinclair. That year, whenever
I wasn't in school or with Jessie, chances were I was writing.
In our first year at Harvard, Jessie lived in residence and I lived in a tiny
apartment off campus. We considered being roommates, but I wanted to live
somewhere quiet for my writing, while Jessie wanted to be around a lot of people
and get `the whole university experience,' as she called it. Broaden her
horizons or something like that. A couple months into the first semester, we
started having some problems. I guess I should have expected it, but I still
naively thought we'd live happily ever after and never have to go through the
crap most couples deal with. She was making new friends and I was starting to
feel like she didn't need me anymore. Back in Evanston, we were the centre of
each other's universe. Suddenly, I felt like Jessie had realized she didn't want
to spend the rest of her life with her high school sweetheart after all. Like
she had been selling herself short by being with me.
God, the day Jessie broke up with me was the worst day of my life. She was
coming over to spend the day with me. We'd both been really stressed about exams
(she was pre-med) and had been fighting over stupid things a lot lately, so I
was looking forward to spending a relaxing day with her. Just the two of us.
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"Hey beautiful," I greeted her. I was really hoping today would be a good day
for us. I knew we needed to spend some quality Jessie/Katie time. I really
thought we just needed some time together and everything would go back to being
great again.
"Hi Katie," she said slowly. Right away a little red flag went up in my mind.
Jessie wasn't normally so hesitant when we greeted each other. By now, I should
have gotten a `hello' kiss, or at least have been wrapped in a hug. No, I didn't
like this at all.
We went inside the apartment and just as I was about to ask her what she wanted
to do for the day, she started with, "Can we talk?" That had me headed straight
for full-blown panic mode. I tried to keep calm, but somehow, deep down, I knew
she was about to break up with me. In my irrational state though, I hoped it
would be something else. Anything else. For a second I even selfishly hoped
someone was sick or had died. In that instant, anything would have been easier
to hear than what was coming.
So we talked. Well, more like she talked and I listened as she ran off a list of
the reasons why we shouldn't be together. She gave me the standard lines about
how it wasn't me, it was her, and that she still loved me but needed some time
apart.
"I don't believe you," I said after she had finished what sounded like a
well-rehearsed speech. "I don't believe you really want this."
"Katie..."
"Jess, no. This isn't you talking. This is the idea that you're supposed to
`explore who you are' in college and a bunch of other senseless bullshit
talking. The Jessie I know...the Jessie I *love* would never break my heart like
this." By this point, my eyes were watering and I was fighting a lump in my
throat the size of a grapefruit.
"Katie, I'm sorry," she said softly. The tears started flowing down my cheeks
despite my best efforts to contain them. "I just think this is best…for both of
us." She reached out and brushed my hair out of my face, smoothing it behind my
ears.
I wanted to be mad. Who was she to tell me this was best for me? I wanted to
scream at her to get out and stop trying to make herself feel better about
ripping my heart out. But as always, I was powerless in her hands. I leaned into
her touch as she smoothed my hair. I looked at her through teary eyes and
couldn't say a word. For a second, I thought I saw some hesitation in her eyes.
We watched each other for a moment longer than was necessary, and I could have
sworn I still saw love in her eyes, like she had forgotten why she had come in
the first place.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked quietly. Then she remembered why she was there
and pulled her hand away quickly. I was jolted by the sudden loss of contact.
"I...I should go," she said. With that, she gathered her things and left the
apartment, not once looking back at me.
She left and I watched her go. All the while I was dying inside, wondering how
the hell I was supposed to go on when the one person I loved most in the world
had just decided she didn't want to be with me.
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