good riddance

Their voices carried across the street and up to my windows, where I sat staring out at the sky, smoking a cigarette. The words were meaningless, it was the tone I recognized, the fervent, angry yelling was what I heard. And it was the first time since we were done that I felt a sense of relief. I'll never have to take part in another screaming match again.

As I've been unpacking, I've found things from the first time we were together that I held on to, for some reason, but now no longer feel the urge to keep. It felt good to get rid of the letters, notes and pictures that marked the time we shared.

At first, I wasn't angry. I think I was more shocked than anything. Once that wore off, once reality began to sink in, one unpacked box at a time, as the days became weeks and the weeks became a month, I was really just sad. I was just disappointed. I hadn't gotten angry yet.

The first strike was the phone call. His voice was terse and angry. I hadn't heard it in a month. Among the things he'd decided we needed to discuss were the phone bill, some leftover mail, and the few things I couldn't move. He set a limit on the phone til December 4th, which I was grateful for.

The second strike was his ultimatum that if I wasn't able to move them by a certain date, he would give them away. I've done nothing but make this easy on him. I left immediately. I got a new apartment within two weeks. I hadn't called him at all. I moved my stuff in three trips in my boss' car. I couldn't take a couple things and just figured I would get them eventually. The idea that he would demand something else out of me was just too much.

Lastly, of course, was money. I'd given him almost five hundred dollars in one month to cover the expenses from the half of the month I was there, the phone bill for November and what I was sure was coming, overages in my minutes. I gave him fifty bucks for that. It turned out that my overages cost $170 and he wanted me to pay as soon as possible and get off his phone plan as soon as possible. Well that was just too much. I had to borrow $1400 to get into an apartment and he wanted me to happily cut him a check for $120?

All of this has made me realize that even though I was disappointed, I still imagined that we might be able to be friends at some point, but now I don't see that even being possible. I've always thought the phrase He's dead to me was a little ridiculously dramatic, but I finally feel the urge to say it.

The things that tied us together were so easy to cut. I got my stuff, the post office knows my new address, my phone number is back to being mine. Six weeks and it's like we never knew each other and never will again.