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Bad Girlfriend by Brooke Cumberland (1)

Prelude: Melt My Heart to Stone

Kate

 

 

There’s nothing like a big slap of reality to get your life back in check. Correction: a strong, backhanded slap across the face that sends you reeling, tilts the world on its axis and never really levels out again so you can regain your stance.

Yeah, it’s pretty painful.

The whole “you only live once” and “live like there’s no tomorrow” couldn’t be truer for me.

At least, now I knew the truth. My new reality.

It’s not about ‘who wore it best’, who so-and-so is dating this week, or the tragedy that happens when the cable goes out.

Those are petty and materialistic preoccupations that don’t mean a thing in the real world. The real world is about life and death. Survival and pain. Choices and consequences.

After weeks of self-pity, I finally came to the conclusion that I needed to do something with the time I had left. Anything, really. Just to know I mattered, in some way. But time wasn’t on my side.

After finding out, I broke up with my boyfriend, Kyle. We’d been dating for the past four years and he didn’t deserve it, but there was no point leading him on. I just saved him years of grief and pain, or so I keep telling myself.

“Kate, don’t do this. I love you,” he pleaded, kneeling in front of me with his hands around mine as I sat emotionless on the couch. I knew he did…and that’s why this was so hard. I went with the Band-Aid approach—rip it off, fast.

Get it over with.

“Sorry, Kyle.” I focus on the floor so I don’t see the pain in his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore,” I lied, but I managed to say it with confidence. If I told him the truth, I knew he’d promise to stay with me, but in the end, he’d only regret his decision.

And I couldn’t let him do that.

“I can’t believe this.” He stood up, brushing both hands through his hair and pacing back and forth in front of me. I tried to remain calm, and appear unaffected in spite of how much this was hurting me—hurting him. I had to turn off my emotions—be an empty shell.

Finally, he paused in front of me and with cold, dead eyes, stared at me as if I was the worst person on earth.

“You’re a bad girlfriend, Kate,” he hissed, and I couldn’t even blame him for the words he spat at me. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. After everything we’ve been through, after everything I’ve done for you…how could you?”

He took another step toward me, his face directly in mine as he bent down. “You’re a bad girlfriend…I’m lucky to be rid of you!” I knew his words were sliced from anger. I understood. He gave me everything—and in return—I couldn’t give him a thing.

As soon as he slammed the front door in my face, I walked to the bathroom for a hot shower. My life was spinning out of control, whirling around like a tornado just waiting to touch land and destroy everything in its path. Things hadn’t been perfect, but after my mother’s death, Kyle was there for me to make sure I ate and slept. But that was three years ago. That was before he graduated at the top of his class in law school. Since then, he’d been hired as a law clerk, working under a judge, and we hardly spent any time together anymore. He’d sleep over a couple of times a week and then rush off to work the next day.

As the water cascaded down my pale body, images of my mother and grandma come to mind. While most twenty-one-year-olds go barhopping to celebrate their birthdays, I spent mine sitting next to my mother’s bed, sobbing and praying. It was just after midnight when she passed away. She died on my birthday.

Five years earlier, I was in a similar situation, watching my mom say goodbye to her mother. It was like déjà vu. Illness had now taken two of the most important people of my life.

So when the doctor gave me that look of pity, I knew. He was the same doctor my mother had gone to two years earlier. She fought. She fought every damn day, but the cancer won. Breast cancer. By the time we found out, she was already in stage three. She was so caught up in caring for her own mother that she forgot to take care of herself.

And apparently, history was repeating itself.

 

As I toss my bags and suitcase in my trunk for my trip, I think about the way he looked at me that night. Like I had ripped his heart out of his chest and left him for dead.

Although I know I did the right thing, I still miss him. He's never far from my thoughts. I wonder if he’s over the hurt I caused him, if he’s moved on yet, and if he still thinks of me. The only thing that gets me through the guilt is knowing he deserved so much more than I could’ve given him.

I had allowed myself to become emotionally detached from Kyle in the weeks leading up to our breakup. I knew it was coming, I just hadn’t known how he’d respond. He’d been working a lot and hadn’t even noticed the increased doctor appointments, my change in behavior, or the fact that I went from being energetic and happy to depressed and hopeless.

I can’t put all the blame on him, though. That’s not fair, considering I never told him the truth.

He was supposed to come with me on this trip, something we planned months ago when Natalee announced her engagement, but now it was welcome silence.

The silence makes me feel numb. Numb to the facts. Numb to reality. Numb to the ache in my chest anytime I allow myself to think about my fate, which isn’t often. Not anymore, at least.

The truth is that I didn’t want Kyle changing his life plans for me. He graduated at the top of his class in law school and had just started clerking. It wasn’t exactly something you took a year off from. I could never let him jeopardize his career after all his hard work. Or perhaps the real fear was wondering if he would change his plans for me once he found out.

Not knowing was better than risking that kind of heartache.