Leaving (verb) to go away from

He was becoming increasingly distant. He was hard to locate. He “worked” almost constantly. His mind wandered while we were together. He began losing weight, keeping himself more groomed and polished than usual. His verbiage changed, suddenly using “young” words. He began watching different shows, listening to different music and locked onto the song, “Shut Up and Dance With Me”, often showing me the video on his phone, commenting on the dancing girl. Country music suddenly became his “thing”. And then he began finding fault with me, almost all the time, pointing out little nit- picky things, paired with the words, “I can’t be with a woman who …” and colored that in with whatever it was I did that he didn’t like, suddenly, at that moment. Finally, he began “booking” appointments in the evening, telling me he has to work odd hours because he can only meet up with people when they’re available, too, and I noticed these appointments were usually on Thursday and Friday nights. It got to the point where I never saw him, but he stayed in touch with me, telling me to the smallest detail what he was doing, when and where. This was very unusual behavior for this self proclaimed “Alpha” who reported to no one. Why was he “reporting in” to me? So I asked one day, ” … Are you seeing someone else? Have you met someone?” He replied with a phrase he would come to use often as a club and a shield when I began to get wise: “Hun, if you’re going to accuse me of something, I’ll just go out and do it.” Terrified of pushing him to cheat, I said, “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m asking because everything feels weird lately. You’re different. … do you want out? Have you met someone?” He answered, “Uh, with what time? When do I have time to fuck around? I’m working non-stop. Where am I going to meet her, Home Depot? You think there are hot chicks roaming around Home Depot? … have you been to Home Depot?” That became his answer every time I asked after, if he had met someone else. “Where am I going to meet her? Home Depot?”

One night, he came over, alarmingly not himself. He was quiet, distracted, distant. He came in and sat on the couch. He never sat on my couch, he always went straight to my bed, took off his shoes and laid back to watch t.v., where I would join him for the rest of the evening. … but not this night. Sitting in the living room, he looked at his watch over and over. The atmosphere was thick, and it was as if we were strangers. He was preoccupied and totally absorbed with whatever was swirling in his head. I’d never seen him like this, ever, and small talk was awkward, so I stopped talking. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. At 9:00 pm, he looked at his watch again and said, “I gotta go. I have to go home to sleep because I’m out really early. Got a job in the city and I … I want to be out early, beat rush hour.” He stood up without making eye contact. He mindlessly adjusted the watch on his wrist and looked around, clearing his throat. I said, “But tomorrow is Saturday. There’s … there’s no rush hour traffic on Saturday,” and without acknowledging what I had just said, he walked to the door. I jumped up and followed him, willing him inside not to leave. ” … Oh … ok. Well … I’ll walk you out,” I said, and he answered, “You don’t have to.” What? What’s going on?  I followed him outside and on the walkway, I tilted my face back to kiss him, as I always did for the 3 years together, but this night, he turned his face away and gave me an awkward hug. Startled, I said, ” … no kiss?” “Oh,” he answered as he leaned down to kiss me … and for the first time ever, he missed. It was as if he forgot how to kiss me, and the only thought I had was that it was as if he had become used to kissing someone else. … but that’s ridiculous. He works too much to mess around! He mumbled, “I gotta go. ” He walked away toward his car, not looking back, not answering me when I said goodbye.  I noticed also that he was in his Audi, not in his truck.  He said he was working all day,  but he was definitely not in work clothes, and not driving his truck. That’s weird. Is he lying to me? … He got in his car, and drove off.

That was last time I saw him.

Eleven days had come and gone. He stopped calling. He stopped texting. When he would send a reply text to me, they were short, succinct, brief answers. Even these dwindled to almost nothing. Finally, I got the courage to confront him, dreading what I had suspected, telling myself I was probably wrong, but something is happening. I decided I would call him that morning, before I had to report in to work. It was the first staff day of the new school year, (Friday, the kick off to Labor Day Weekend) and I was heading to a new school, new staff to meet, new protocol to follow, and new routine to learn before the students returned after the holiday weekend, ushering in Fall. I was nervous … I don’t like change. But I just could’t go another day wondering what was happening with us. Three years together, a lot of life lived between us; we weren’t casual, we were “us” and he suddenly dropped out.

I arrived early and sat in a far corner spot of the parking lot, mentally rehearsing what I would say to him. I called. No answer. I sent a text, “Baby … what’s going on? Why are you avoiding me? What’s happening?” He answered. “Hey. We’re pouring concrete right now … I’m managing a ton of new guys and we can’t make any mistakes … We’re laying the floor. I can’t do this right now. We’ll talk later.”  What? … you can’t do this right now?  You can’t do what right now?  Tears immediately burned my eyes because I knew what that meant. Oh God. No no no. I texted back, “Can’t do what? What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?” My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I could hear it in my ears. My phone chimed with his text: “Shannon, I can’t do this anymore. I need a break from all of this.” “What? You need a break from what? What happened?” ” I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry. We’ll talk in a few days.” I panicked as I texted back, “No! Baby, please! What happened? Did you meet someone? Is there someone else? Tell me!” My eyes were so blurred with tears that I had to blink rapidly and raise my eyebrows to see my phone, being aware enough to not smear my eye make up because I had to go in to the school. Oh my God. Not today, don’t do this to me today. Oh my God. Please. What did I do wrong?  The phone chimed again:  “Shannon, your life is too much for me. 3 years later and you’re no better off than when we met. You still live paycheck to paycheck. I’m tired of trying to steer you.  I’m exhausted.  I need a break.  I need me time, now.  I need to work on me.”  “Please” I texted back, “Just talk to me. I don’t understand!” … and here came the killing shot. He replied, “You are a wonderful woman, the best girlfriend I ever had. The very best. You’ve treated me better than anyone ever has, and I know I’m crazy to let you go, but you need to find a man who will love you. I’m so sorry, but I don’t love you and we need to go our separate ways. I want you to find a man who will treat you as wonderfully as you treated me. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”  I read and re-read that text over and over in disbelief.  He’s leaving me. He’s leaving me.  Oh my God. No no no no. I answered, “But YOU make me happy! I am happy! We never even fight! What happened??” I was blinking back tears so I could see, and wiping my nose with my sleeve, my face dripping black mascara tears that splashed on my white pants. My phone chimed. “Don’t text me anymore. This is over. Shannon, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, but I am so sorry. Please leave me alone now.” My hands were shaking so bad I could hardly hold my phone. Hot tears streamed down my face and I realized I had been holding my breath. I leaned back in my seat, trying in vain to gather myself and not ruin my first impression by looking like a snotty mess when I went in to a whole new school to meet a whole new staff. God, the timing. Not today. Please.  My phone chimed again: “Hey girl, where are you?? We’re starting. I saved you a seat … hurry up or you’ll miss orientation. I think they’re introducing you.” Because that text wasn’t from him, I burst and began sobbing, bent over, forehead resting on my steering wheel, my hands folded against my chest, my body shuddering with heaving sobs. I could feel my heart breaking and it was as if I was trying to hold my chest together, so my heart wouldn’t fall out. It was a sensation like no other. My phone chimed once more and I scrambled to get it, hoping he had changed his mind. “P.s. Do you have any gum? Where are you?? We’re starting!”

To be continued …