What Becomes of the Brokenhearted, Part 1

 

It was the first time I'd been back to the skating rink since she and I parted ways. It'd been one of our special places, but from here on a location I promised to forever avoid. However an all-Whitworth skate night, coupled with a bit of friendly peer pressure convinced me it wouldn't be so horrible to go along, at least for a couple of hours; to come out of my shell, get out of my comfort zone. So I allowed myself to venture back to a place of good times past.

 

Walking inside, I was immediately bombarded by the sound of happy, noisy young people on skates and "Rock and Roll All Night" by Kiss blaring over the PA system, everything seemed the same as when I'd come as one half of a couple. All that was missing was her. Though I was with a group, a wave of loneliness washed over me and while queuing up in a long line to get skates, I prayed I wouldn’t hear any of the songs she and I skated to, or ones that reminded me of her. I wasn’t sure I could take it.

After lacing up my skates, I turned to face the action on the rink. A person with blond hair darted by who was quickly lost in the crowd of other skaters. But I kept staring until whoever it was emerged again from the pack and skated back in my direction. And when I recognized the smiling face that seemed happy not to be seeing mine, I felt an abrupt stab of dread in the pit in my stomach. It was her.

 

Naturally, I didn't want it to be her. But then again, I did. Kind of. We broke up in November and the only communication since had been one long letter I wrote to her followed by a longer one she wrote back to me. Apparently we parted with a lot of things still left unsaid, but at the end of her communique, she suggested the possibility of getting back together. Someday. And like a car running on fumes, that's all that had kept me going- waiting for someday.

But her letter came in January. It was now May 6. We didn't attend the same school, spent most of our time in different parts of town and hadn't seen or spoken to each other face to face in 6 months. However during that time of space and separation I often imagined what I'd say if we ever did see each other again. And of course I just knew it’d be straight from the heart, sweep-her-off-her-feet stuff. I practically had it all memorized. But with the moment perhaps now at hand, I suddenly couldn't remember even how to talk.

 

So I turned away and decided to just wing it. Pretend I didn't see her. Wait until she saw me. Just get out there and skate with my friends and let the chips fall where they may.  And heck, if we did accidentally sort of bump into each other, she might actually be pleased at the idea. It certainly was within the realm of possibility. Right? But I never made it onto the rink.

 

Facing the migrating swarm of skaters before wading out to join them, I heard a familiar silly scream. Even in all that noise, I knew it was the same playful scream she often used around me, whenever she wanted to register surprise or mischievous shock. But this time it wasn't me sneaking up from behind and saying, "Boo!" It was somebody else. And when he came around next to her, she took his hand and they glided away, side by side.

 

Uh-oh. My worst fears were coming true right before my eyes. But like seeing an accident on the side of the road, I couldn't look away either. I kept staring as they kept circling. And judging from the body language it was clear he wasn’t a distant relative, and this wasn’t a first date. They were easy and informal with each other. Close is a better word. Everything they did conveyed the same cozy one-on-one friendship she and I used to share. In fact, the flirtatious mannerisms suggested they were probably little more than just friends. 

 

The dagger in the heart, though, was watching them do a slow twirl in the center of the rink. Holding each other's hands while gradually spinning they pulled together tighter, until ending in a snug embrace, followed by a tender kiss. It was the same sweet little dance she and I had done the first time we skated together out there, too.

 

So that's what we looked like. 

 

When it'd been us, I think I may have been embarrassed; but caught up in the thrill of the moment back then decided I didn't care. And for anyone observing from a distance we probably looked kind of cute. But it was sickening now. To me it looked like a death spiral: mine. I was going down and watching my life flash before my eyes and swirling down the drain. When they broke smooch she smiled and looked at him exactly as she used to look at me. I wanted it to just be a bad dream but I was wide awake and knew I'd just witnessed my apparent replacement receiving the same sweet embrace of loving friendship she'd once given to me. And I wanted to die.

 

It felt like all the air in the building had been sucked out and if I didn't get out was going to suffocate. I wanted to barf and quickly unlaced one skate, then the other, and dropped them both on the floor. I didn’t even return them, just left them where they fell. Then my heart raced like a marathoner as I fled to get away. Forcing my way through swarms of humanity to get to the door and away from them, I heard the PA announcing the first couples skate. God, get me out of here! Now! When I finally got to the door and burst outside, I almost knocked over a guy coming in with his date. "Hey watch it, a-hole." Ignoring him I sprinted to my car, fired it up and burned rubber getting out of the parking lot and back to the highway, leaving her and him and Pattison's North Skate Center behind me. 

 

But if I thought it was bad after our initial break up, this was a million times worse. It felt like my heart had been broken for a second time. At least before, even as we were slipping apart she still liked me. And according to her final letter said she even still loved me and hinted at a possible reconciliation. I knew now, though, that was never going to happen. I was history, just a minor player from her past. She'd moved on, something I never thought would happen. And though I’d seen it with my own eyes, I was completely unprepared for the finality of what it all meant. It meant there’d never be her and I again; only them. For us it meant there’d never be any reconciliation. And for me it meant it was over. No going back, over. Forever, over.

I drove quickly away from the rink, south and back towards town with no future or destination, only a past that was back in the rear view mirror. I kept replaying the last scene over and over in my head. Her kissing him. The same lips that used to kiss mine were kissing someone else. And seeing it was torture; like having a steak knife plunged into my abdomen and turned a quarter inch to the left...then the right…..over and over....I'd lost her.

My howls of agony drowned out the radio. Damn, damn, damn! Noooooo!!!! My eyes stung with wet tears and I continued driving aimlessly. I drove and cried and pounded the steering wheel and cursed and cried and drove some more. I drove in big circles from one end of Spokane to the other, driving myself crazy. Why? Oh, dear God, why? I'd lost her.

 

I began to recall, back when our friendship had developed and then deepened; the absolute ecstasy and wonder of falling in love for the first time. There’s nothing like it and no words to describe it. Conversely, as the friendship died, I got to experience the cold, empty, bottomless ache of a first time broken heart. There’s nothing like that, too; and no words to describe it either.

And now, she'd broken my heart again though she didn't even know it. But it was excruciatingly clear to me that the chasm between us was never going to be bridged. So I kept driving and crying and praying.  Please God, please make this pain go away. But He didn't hear me. I'd still lost her and it still really hurt; the kind of hopeless hurt that seemed to have no beginning or end. So I just kept driving.

More next time...