The First Goodbye

Four bin bags in a row by the door. One messenger bag; for the important stuff. Waiting for dawn to break, sitting on the couch; drinking tea, and contemplating what to write in the note. A note seemed like the only way to say it.
To my left was the army cot, filling the rest of the space this side of the room. Only the Japanese would call this place spacious. Alan’s head was turned to the wall; he lay on his chest with arms sprawled out either side. He always sounded like a rusty gate when he slept; squeaking open and closed. If he were a gate, I would have used a whole can of WD-40 by now; just to shut him up. I was sure that was one thing I wouldn’t miss.
I knew it was too soon to move in; we’d only been together three months when he asked. True, I had always been here- but it was the beginning. Lovers are always caught for breath without each other early on. When I got my notice from my landlord; it seemed like everything was pushing me his direction.
After another four months, we’d become a miserable old couple. This bedsit left no room for mystery; I’d seen him bite his toe nails on this couch, and had let him squeeze my blackheads. The things you wait to do when you're on your own; we did together. The allure was gone... Maybe if we’d left more often we'd have more to say.
At first, we spent all our time in bed; sharing secrets, making love and spooning while watching movies. I used to get cramps from lying in bed. My body was restless; now my mind has caught up. I no longer want to lie in bed; I want to live. Besides, our arguments left me not wanting to be touched. Our passion was the wrong kind; it was all pouring into the arguments.
Slurping tea, and tapping my pen; searching for something nice to say. The kindest thing I can think of is ‘Sorry’, except I’m not. The last few hours replay; I keep affirming those thoughts that kept me awake earlier.
The single bed I once thought of as cosy, perfect for cuddling had began to suffocate me. I was clinging onto the edge. I would look at him and wonder how he could sleep so soundly. I packed my bags.
When you spend this much time together, your mind starts to play tricks when you spend some time apart. He was stirring before I went to the party. I may have been vague when I got back; but I didn’t cheat. The name calling, smashing my ‘worlds sexiest woman’ mug- I can see why he’d think that was just, but he was wrong. I draw the line at the point where he threw me against the wall. He crossed that line even further when his hands squeezed around my upper-arms, shaking me, as if all the sense would just fall out.
‘Liar’ he spat.
I’d talked to an old flame, but I’d told him how happy I was. If only I’d possessed some psychic ability. Although, considering a quibble over ownership of five euro had the coffee table kick- flipped on its back a few days ago- I didn’t need a special ability to predict this.
If I leave now; maybe I could spare myself a lifetime of regret. I know for some obscure reason I love this man. Infact, I hate to think of my life without him. I'll even miss the things I hate, and nobody wants to be alone.
I flashed back to earlier; my face was hot, I dug my nails into his flesh; spitting words with venom. I wanted to tear him apart, but I succombed to him. Despite the slap; I hugged him back when he cooled off. I understood that he had not meant it, and never wanted to hurt me. We always hurt the ones we love.
I scribbled ‘It’s just not working’ on the A4. I didn’t sign off. Writing anything more seemed pointless. I put my cup by the sink, grabbed my coat and slung my brown messenger bag over my shoulder. The rest of my possessions may not be intact by the time I could return, but you take all sorts of crazy risks in relationships. I clicked the door quietly as I escaped.
But there was something niggling.
Following a recent obsession with peanut butter, and my carelessness- I found myself in a crisis pregnancy centre
‘The line is very faint.’
‘No matter how faint, if there are two lines; it's positive.’ The lady told me.
I want to tell you the story of how brave I was; to find a place, and raise my child alone; or to never have found myself in a situation like that again. Life doesn’t work like that; you can’t just snap on happy endings when the real one disappoints you.
So I went back to Alan, defeated. I was homeless, unemployed, and not exactly wise to begin with.We talked, while hours ticked away; holding each other. Alan was remorseful, having nearly lost me. He decided this was our fate; we’d start over, and really give this our all. We’d be a happy little family, making up for our own shattered families.
As I lay awake in the quiet hours; I tried to imagine my new life, and couldn't. I’ve reached the stage in early adulthood where I realise things don’t work out; I’m not so special. My heartbreak is happening somewhere else to somebody else; and its just as instense.
You can’t just walk out the door when shit hits the fan; that’s not what adults do. Perhaps he'll change, or maybe I'll leave. All I have the power to do right now is curl up on my side; and take comfort that this story is incomplete.