Emma Myre was everything. Cute, curvy, smart. Everything. But there would always be something ticking in the back of my mind if I stayed with her, I knew it.
The ticking would be from a clock. This clock was counting down the minimal days to which I had left before Lia found the love of her life and was whisked off to some romantic place like Rome or Greenland with her perfect guy. Well, fuck that. I’m winning.
Lessons Learned
I lifted my fork from the dusty napkin and twisted it on the table. Emma was staring at me, waiting for me to say something, but there just wasn’t anything to say. I didn’t want her anymore. I’m not even sure if I ever wanted here, and I definitely don’t want her now. Does she still want me? Why would she buy me lunch if she didn’t… right? I mean, something about this lunch felt weird, from the second she picked me up from my house.
***
“Aaron, when are you gonna get a damn car? I’m not your fucking taxi service. When we go on dates, you should pick me up. I mean, shit, Aaron. Shit.”
I hadn’t even stepped in the car. I sunk in to her low Nissan Altima and slammed the door.
“Damn you’re such a bitch,” she said, punching the gas and throwing my head into the rest behind me.
“Where are we going?”
She shrugged.
I rolled my eyes. “This was your idea. You should know where we’re going.”
“Yeah, probably. But I just knew that whatever place I picked you’d find something to bitch about. ‘I hate rice,’” she mimicked in a deafening voice. “’Burgers are fattening, beans upset my stomach.’ I mean, where the hell can we even go in this town, Aaron?”
I shrugged. “Let’s just get sushi.” I knew she liked sushi. Anything to get her to just stop talking.
There was silence for a while as light faded in and out of the car. We were driving down one of my favorite streets, where tall oak trees lined the sidewalk and only let in small streams of light through their thick branches. I had tried many times to get Emma to see the beauty in this.
“It’s our one year anniversary next week,” I said.
She nodded, pursing her lips. She really was beautiful. And the sad thing was that her lips were my favorite part, just when they weren’t open.
“Do you know what you’d like to do?”
Emma shook her head.
“I was thinking-“
“Can we just, like, watch a movie or something? I’m not really in to big surprises and stuff.”
I frowned. What was she talking about? She used to yell at me about not surprising and showering her with gifts and trips. Now she didn’t want to do anything?
“Look, if this is about the fight we just had-“
“It’s not! I just don’t want you to get me anything. I don’t want a gift.” She pulled into the parking lot of the sushi restaurant. It had horrible food, but a great view of the Pacific Ocean. We got out of the car and she looked at me over the top. She smiled with half her mouth. “You’ve given me enough, really. I just… I’d rather you save up for a car, you know?”
I smiled. It had been hard commuting to college and back all this time without a car. I had to ride my bike to the bus station, take a half an hour bus ride, and then ride my bike for ten minutes down a deserted highway to reach my small, and very new, digital arts college. A car would be nice.
We joined at the rear bumper and I reached out my hand but she kept walking. I sighed. Emma wasn’t really one for public affection, unless an old high school friend of hers was around.
We walked into the glass-walled restaurant and a friendly-faced Japanese woman led us to our table: second row away from the ocean, but we still had an excellent view of the sun setting behind San Francisco, creating a classic silhouette of the city. It was really romantic. I wanted to hold Emma’s hand, but she kept it under the table, out of reach. Instead of leaving my hand awkwardly on the table, I picked up my fork and started twirling it.
“Do you love me?” I blurted out.
She chocked on the water set down for us at the table. “What?” she asked between coughs, her eyes filling with tears.
“Do you love me?” I repeated, though I knew she understood what I had said.
“Aaron, you told me you wouldn’t-“
“That was four months ago! A quarter of our relationship. You have to be feeling something by now?” Then I said something I instantly regretted. “Please?”
“OH! So now you’re begging me?! What kind of girl do you think I am! Because a man begs for my love means I have to tell him I love him?!”
“No, Emma, you know that’s not what-“
“No, Aaron. I do know.” She rubbed her forehead and looked down at the wood table. “Aaron, I don’t love you,” she said in a soft voice, “And I don’t think I ever will. And I don’t think you really love me. And I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”
It probably should have felt like a bullet going through my heart, and I probably should have felt like crying, but it didn’t really come to that much of a surprise.
“Oh.”
She frowned. “Oh? Oh! That’s it? I break up with you and all you have to say is OH?”
I nodded. “I guess I don’t really want to be with you either.”
She shook her head. “No. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”
Her voice was steadily raising and people were starting to look at us. “What do you mean?”
“I want you to love me, you dumbass!”
“Why, so you can torture and humiliate me?” I stood up. “Well I’m not gonna give you that Emma!”
She sunk into her chair. “I just wanted you to beg for me. I wanted to know you still cared.”
“I do care about you Emma. I just don’t really like you.”
We stayed there for a while, people waiting to hear what would happen next. The sounds of chopsticks hitting the glass plates were nowhere to be found. Eventually she nodded. “I guess this is one of those life lessons you’re always talking about, huh?”
“Yeah, it is.”
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