Page 77 of For the Win

No, I will.I can do this.

I focus on my breathing, still too fast.I try to observe thoughts as they drift through my mind without getting involved with them or judging them, trying to just be aware of each mental note as it arises.I know I’ve tended to quickly judge experiences as good or bad.I need to balance my thoughts.

Thoughts of Harrison.His smile.His words.The fun I had with him.That’s a good thing.

We can learn from everything.

I sit like that for about twenty minutes, I think.Then I open my eyes.My mouth droops glumly.I feel better, but truthfully, I’m still hurt.

I could beat myself up over letting my guard down and getting hurt, but I knew what I was doing.I was nervous about it.Okay, terrified.I convinced myself to go out with Harrison because I had to move forward with my life.I knew there was risk involved.I accepted the risk.

I am capable of anything.

Now regretting the ice cream I didn’t eat, I rise to my feet and head to the kitchen.In the freezer I find the tub of Cherry Garcia.When I pry the lid off, I’m disappointed to see it’s nearly empty.Oh well.I grab a spoon and dig into the ice cream.When it’s gone, I open the cupboard, hoping for a can of sweetened condensed milk.Score!

I eat that too.

What am I going to say to Harrison?What am I going to do?

He said maybe we’d go out for dinner tonight.

When the can is empty, I set it on the counter and go get my phone from my yoga bag.

There’s a text from Harrison.

What time should I pick you up for dinner?Anywhere you want to go?

My bottom lip pushes out sadly.Ending things by text is shitty.On the other hand, I don’t really want to go for dinner with him.

We need to talk.

Good, good.I’m a breakup cliché.I wait for his response.

Okaaaay...

I don’t feel up for dinner, but maybe you could come by for a few minutes?

My phone rings.

I scrunch up my face, then answer it.“Hi.”

“Hi, beautiful.”

My heart bumps.

“What’s going on?”

I don’t answer right away.I haven’t had time to figure out exactly what I’m going to say.I want to be honest, but it’s hard to admit how hurt I am.Finally, I say, “I think we may have had a misunderstanding about this dating thing.”

Silence.

Then, “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

I swallow.“Okay.”

I’m still in my leggings and tank top from my classes earlier.I look down at myself.I should change.But it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

I change.

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