Week 1 - Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Matthew Ryan Fischer

“Where do I go from here?”

“I don’t know, Nancy. Where do you want to go?”

Nancy took a deep breath and slowly thought about things; the fog was starting to clear, and her mental strength was finally beginning to return. She thought back and remembered having kissed Kirk’s fingertips, slowly, passionately, one at a time. She thought back to the gentle touches, tender and caring. She thought back as she stood in the doorway, looking into the past as she was about to leave it all behind. She thought back to it all, one last time. One final indulgence before it was finally time to move on.

 Nancy was talking to her psychiatrist, but she didn’t focus on that, she focused on just how comfortable the chair was. She could sink back into it and simply relax. She could fall asleep here, slip away and be gone. That was a nice feeling – to be gone, even if only for a little while.

Nancy was very well-dressed and very well-composed. She had a meticulous nature and liked having everything in its proper place. Nancy believed people should take care of themselves and get dressed up no matter where it was they were going.

“I feel weak,” Nancy finally said, not answering the question.

“You’re not.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how I feel.”

“That’s okay. Many people feel weak when a relationship ends. But you broke up with him – that took courage...”

Nancy thought back to the times she had cried. That didn’t feel very courageous. She loved Kirk so much, so very much. But she had been crying far too often.

Nancy looked at her finger tips – her nails were bright red. She had spent a lot of money on herself, nails, and hair. She felt like spoiling herself, as if that would make her forget, as if it would make the past the past and lock it there.

“Do you like my nails? I just had them done.”

“Is that really what you want to talk about?”

Nancy was silent. Her psychiatrist leaned forward.

“Why don’t you tell me about him?”

“What’s the point, you know?

“You might feel better.”

*                             *                             *

Nancy lay in bed next to Kirk. She read a book; he just watched her.

“What?”

Kirk didn’t say anything; instead he winked and smiled at her.

“Stop it. What?”

“I just like looking at you. Read your book. I’ll be fine.”

Nancy smiled back and playfully commanded him to “Say it.”

“Don’t be silly. You know it.”

“You love me,” she mocked, her tone frisky and girlish. “You luv me.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away from him.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“You’re a brat.”

“Maybe.”

*                             *                             *

Nancy tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair, fidgeting. She was uncomfortable and losing the composure she normally exhibited. She wanted to stop thinking about the past. She couldn’t will herself that ability though; all she could do was make herself more nervous thinking about how she didn’t want to be thinking about it.

“He’s gone. None of it matters now.” Nancy rubbed at her hands, her anxiety rising. “He’s gone. That’s all you need to know.”

“If that really is the case, then I’m not sure why you came to me...”

Nancy looked away, embarrassed and sad. A strand of hair fell over her forehead – her perfect new hairdo already failing.

“I guess... I don’t know where to go from here. I miss him so badly. I don’t know why exactly, but I do. I guess I don’t know how to move on.”

“That’s normal. You’re normal.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“We aren’t here to talk about me.”

“How am I supposed to trust you?”

“Of course I have. We all have.”

“We were in love...”

*                             *                             *

Nancy cooked breakfast. The morning sun cast a beautiful shine on her hair. She loved her hair. She loved how it looked in the light. Everything seemed pristine and beautiful. It was like a fantasy come true. That’s how she wanted the world to be. That was what she wanted to be real.

Kirk walked in, but didn’t say anything to her; he just nodded and made some guttural sound of acknowledgement. They didn’t always talk first thing in the morning. Sometimes they needed caffeine in their systems before they would do much more than grunt. He tried to step around her to get to the coffee pot, but their kitchen was small and Nancy just got in his way. They both moved in the same direction and it was obvious that Kirk was already frustrated with the day. Nancy told him to sit and she would pour him a cup of coffee.

After setting his cup down, she turned back to the stove, but their breakfast was already starting to burn. Nancy meekly apologized to no one in particular. Kirk just looked disappointed. He was late for work and didn’t have time to wait.

Once he was gone, Nancy stood in the middle of the kitchen, alone, in silence. She didn’t care about the food. She didn’t care about Kirk. She wasn’t sure what she cared about, but she didn’t like the empty feeling that came from being alone. Everything felt slightly worse. It felt like the lights were dimmer, the shadows darker, and her mood just a little bit sadder.

Even though he had just been there, she was all alone.

*                             *                             *

“Nancy, are you okay?”

Nancy wasn’t listening. She was thinking back to Kirk, back to the way things had been. She stood and began pacing. She was nervous. Her heart was beating too fast and she felt a little sick to her stomach. She wasn’t sure she wanted the session to continue. She wasn’t sure she would be able to continue.

Nancy looked her nails – her fresh, bright new nails – and suddenly she had a newfound strength she hadn’t had a moment before.

“He was good to me.  He really was.”

“I never said he wasn’t.”

“Well, if that’s what you were thinking, you’re wrong.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything, Nancy. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”

Nancy didn’t speak. Instead she thought about the past and when they were very happy together.

Her memories were like little flashes. She could remember moments, seconds, but they weren’t cohesive in any way. They were just little bits floating in space – a look, a smile, a dance. She knew she knew Kirk, she knew she remembered him, but her memory wasn’t telling her a story, it was just making her feel brief flashes of thought and emotion. There was a rapid energy to them. They were powerful, but short. Had their relationship been that short? It had seemed to go on forever while it was happening. But if all she could remember were short little moments, then didn’t it mean it had been a short amount of time? Or maybe it was just a small amount of importance.

She didn’t want to believe that. She wasn’t ready to believe that.

“He was good to me… He loved me...”

She could see a picnic in a park – they wrestled on a blanket he had laid out earlier. She could feel his kisses. She couldn’t remember walking to the park or walking home. But those things must have happened. But she could remember his smile as they lay together on the blanket, looking into each other’s eyes. She wished she had taken a picture of that – a shot looking down on them and seeing them both smile together. Like God watching them. A frozen moment in time. It would have made it real. It would have been proof. She could have shown her therapist the picture and it would have proved that everything had meant something.

“He loved me, and I loved him,” Nancy continued.

She could feel his arms wrap around her. She could feel his warm body pressed against her backside. She could remember feeling important enough to be possessed.

Some of her best memories were of the times they made love. She always felt closest to Kirk when they were actually touching, when they were feeling. It was proof. She could touch it. It was real. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to question it. Touching him always made it seem real.

She missed touching him. She missed feeling so certain.

“I loved him,” she repeated to herself.

There were, of course, the other times. The times she did not want to exactly remember. There were times they were cold or distant or mean. There were times where Kirk slept and she would wonder what she was doing with him. There were times when Kirk was out that she thought about packing a bag.

She didn’t feel like talking about those times. Those were her times and she didn’t have to discuss them here if she didn’t want to. She could talk and tell only what she wanted to tell. That was the beauty of it. This was her chance to be right and to never have to worry about anyone telling her any different ever again. Kirk wasn’t there to tell any different. Her psychiatrist wouldn’t know the difference. The past was hers and hers alone. And so was her future.

“We were in love.”

“You don’t need to be defensive. I didn’t question that.”

“I’m just saying, if that’s what you thought—“

“This isn’t about what I’m thinking or not thinking. This is about what your thoughts are about what you think happened. You don’t have to justify why you were with him. I’m not here to judge that.”

Nancy sat in silence, fidgeting a little. She touched her cheek, a reaction as if the words had been an actual slap. She slowly lowered her hand, fully aware of the motion, worried what her psychiatrist was thinking of it.

“We don’t have to talk anymore today if you don’t feel up to it,” continued her psychiatrist. “Do you feel like talking anymore?”

“Maybe we should reschedule—“

“We can. That’s up to you. But I don’t want you to do that just because you feel like running away from me. With or without me, you will have to work this out at some point.”

“I think I should leave now.”

Nancy stood to walk out.

“Nancy, I can help you, if you let me. Running isn’t going to help.”

Nancy stopped in mid-motion – the words struck her again, but with greater force. It was like a fist punching her in the gut. She flinched as if it had actually happened. She wasn’t sure why she should have. She didn’t hurt. She knew she hadn’t been hit, but she reacted all the same. She bit her lip and dug her left ring fingernail into her thumb. The pain gave her something to focus on, something else to think about.

She thought about Kirk and tried to smile. She was brave, she told herself. She was the brave one here, even if she wasn’t.

“Nancy—?”

“Shut up,” Nancy muttered under her breath. “Just… just give me a moment.”

Nancy stood there for a moment and composed herself. She released her finger from her thumb, the color returning, although an indentation remained. She was pretty sure there was a bit of blood in her mouth. She had tasted blood before.

She shook like she was cold and pushed the thoughts from her mind. She told herself she was in control here, no one else but her.

After a moment, Nancy sat back down and looked directly at her psychiatrist and answered the question that hadn’t been asked.

“Of course I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem it.”

“I am.”

“Was Kirk physically violent with you? Did he ever hit you?”

“Why would you ask that?”

Nancy looked away.

“You can tell me if he did. Nothing is going to hurt you here.”

“Stop. Talking.”

For a moment, Nancy thought about leaping across the room and clawing at her psychiatrist. She was certain that she would have if she had said anything else in that moment. The two of them just sat in silence for a prolonged second.

“Do you think Kirk ever cheated on me? Do I seem like that sort of timid little victim to you?”

“Do you think he cheated on you? Would his actions be easier to understand that way? Would that help justify your leaving him?”

Nancy chuckled at that. She wasn’t sure what she thought. She wasn’t sure it mattered to her. She just wondered. Her psychiatrist seemed more interested in finding reasons that she did. She didn’t need any more justifications that she already had.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Why did you ask me that?  Don’t you think you’re pretty?”

“You know, life isn’t really like that. You can’t ask me one simple question and figure me out. You aren’t going to make me think of something or have some sudden epiphany and then everything will be alright. Things don’t really work like that.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it! You’re trying to change me. You’re trying to make me into someone else. You aren’t going to fix me! You aren’t going to remake me. This isn’t some scene. This isn’t your moment. I don’t want to be fixed. I don’t want to be different. I just want a way to move on. But you can’t give me that, can you? You can’t make me forget and make me move on. And if you can’t do that, then you’re useless. You’re useless, aren’t you? I don’t know why I bother.”

Nancy suddenly realized that she was crying. She hadn’t realized it before. She had tears running down her cheeks while she yelled. It was incredibly cathartic. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was all she really needed.

“I’m sorry; I don’t feel like talking about this anymore.” Nancy stood and walked towards the door.

“This won’t get any easier once you leave.”

Nancy nodded in agreement. “I know…” She reached for the doorknob. “I know, but it’s time for me to go.”

Nancy began to turn the doorknob.

“If you walk out that door—“

Nancy paused, her hand still firmly grasping the doorknob. She looked back at her psychiatrist. The words echoed in her mind. “…you walk out that door…” Nancy felt faint. She felt nauseous.

“…I won’t be able to help you anymore. You’ll be on your own…”

Her psychiatrist’s words faded away.

Nancy looked back at the room. She was holding the doorknob, but she wasn’t at her psychiatrist’s office anymore. She was in the bedroom of her apartment, the one she shared with Kirk. The room was a mess – half her possessions in boxes, the other half spilled out all over the floor. There were dresser drawers on the floor and it looked like a shelf on the bookshelf was broken.

Nancy looked at all the contents of her life and thought about how little any of them mattered. They were just things – things in boxes, things on the floor. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was her walking out that door.

Nancy shook a little. She was afraid. She hurt inside. This was it.  There was no turning back from this. She cried and cried and dropped to her knees. The tears kept coming. She wasn’t sure how she was able to weep so long.

And then she heard the front door to the apartment slam shut. Instantly she stopped crying, but she was more scared that before. The slam had been violent and she immediately thought it was Kirk coming home – perhaps drunk, perhaps angry, perhaps worse.

 Nancy stood and exited the bedroom and stepped out into the hall.

“Hello?” she asked, but there was no reply.

Nancy turned the corner and walked into the living room.

“You’re strong, Nancy. Always remember that.” It was her psychiatrist, standing there in her living room.

“I thought… I thought you said you wouldn’t help me anymore.”

“I thought you didn’t need my help anymore.”

Nancy took a deep breath and fought off the tears.

“It’s funny. I… I guess I should have known you’d be here.

“Are you happy with the way things turned out?”

“I guess so. I’m not sure yet.”

“That’s okay too. Not going to do anything stupid, are you? No noose waiting in the closet?”

“Is that why you came here?  Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Not really. I don’t think you’d want that. I’m just concerned about the future. I didn’t know if you were up for it. I wasn’t sure who was really running the show.”

“I… I don't know. I’m not sure anymore. All the things you tell yourself get all mixed up together and you have no clue what’s real and what isn’t. I’m tired. I know that.”

“It’s okay to be tired. I am too.”

“Yeah. I would think so. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not giving up.”

“I know you aren’t. I’ve seen how strong you really are.”

“So is this it then? This is what my life ends up being?”

Her psychiatrist walked to the front door of the apartment.

“Where do I go from here?” Nancy asked. “What am I supposed to do?” Nancy grew more hysterical. “Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?!?”

Her psychiatrist opened the front door of the apartment and pointed at the bright outdoors. “That’s up to you…” the words echoed.

Nancy looked at her and realized she wasn’t looking at her psychiatrist, she was looking at herself. There she was – calm, clean, and immaculate. It was everything she hoped to be, the person she always knew she could be.

“How would I know, silly?” the other Nancy asked.

Nancy took a step back, startled and a little bit frightened. And in stepping back, she kicked into something and almost tumbled over it.

Nancy looked down at the ground and saw it was Kirk’s dead body, there on the living room floor, which had almost tripped her.

I’m not even here…” echoed the voice in Nancy’s mind.

She stared at Kirk’s body. There was a pool of blood on the floor.

She remembered the knife. She remembered swinging it back and forth, slicing through the air, slicing into him. Over and over and over again. She looked at her hands – there were little specks of blood on her hands. Her bright red fingernails now revealed a different sort of paint.

Suddenly she remembered everything.

“Where do I go from here?” Nancy asked no one in particular.

She looked at the front door – no one was there. Her psychiatrist wasn’t there, she hadn’t ever been there. Nancy was talking to herself.

Finally her strength returned and she calmed down. She kissed her fingertips and tasted the blood, his blood, lovingly. It tasted like freedom. She gently touched Kirk’s head and ran her fingers through his hair. She had always felt better after touching him and she did now as well. Touching his body made it all real – it was over and he was dead. She never had to worry about him again.

Nancy stood and walked away from Kirk, away from the body. She walked to the door and looked back one last time – one last time before it would all be put in the past.

And then she was gone, a remaining bloody hand print left on the door as she made her escape to freedom.