Artgirl

9//car radio

CHAPTER 9: CAR RADIO

"Heartbreak makes everything taste bitter, but your lips seem sweet. Oh, but my love, if I kiss you one more time, will you poison me like you did once upon a time?" y.o. (@foreversmilin)

Zoey Willow Hunter

     I, almost always, saved a little bit of empathy for cheaters.

In shows or movies, the side to be taken is the victim's; the one who got his or her heart broken. Of course, in some cases, the cheaters are full-on assholes, who couldn't give two fucks about their significant other. They slept or kissed other people with zero regard towards another person's feelings. In other cases, they were genuinely sorry. Their eyes fill up with tears and their heart gets broken at the same time as the other's, because they realize how badly they messed up.

What I never voiced out loud was my urge to grab the cheater by the hand, sit down with them, and talk to them. I wanted to understand why they did what they did. I wanted to see their side of the story, no matter how horrible it was. I wanted to be my own judge of the story, to put a face on who was to blame. (Most of the time, it was alcohol. Or sheer vulnerability.)

 I never imagined that I would end up being one of those cheatees. I built up an image of the man I'd marry one day, the man I wouldn't doubt the idea of spending my life with. He would never hurt me, never look at another woman. He'd look at me, if other women hit on him, with eyes of love. He'd smile and I'd think: my God, he is beautiful, and he'd be thinking the same thing.

I thought James was that man, once upon a time. Our story would've made people smile in envy; two kids who grew up to be each other's sweethearts. Two seeds who became intertwined and blossomed into two majestic trees, branches never separating.

But the branches broke too early. Both trees were dying. Their roots, once messed into each other, were slowly freeing themselves from each other. The fruits and the flowers fell, went away from them, because there was no longer purity to grow from. The love was dying; it got buried in the mud and wasn't getting any sun.

I avoided him for a full week, closing doors in his face, letting his calls go to voicemail and hearing him plead to see me; I went into full-on hibernation. I called him back after Jessie convinced me to face this instead of hiding from it and asked him to meet me at the store during lunch break.

The limits of the 12 to 1p.m. lunch hour were to be broken, but at least I had an excuse to stop the conversation, if I couldn't handle it. I wanted it to be a last choice, if all went wrong. I didn't want to be afraid of this. I wanted to put on a brave face, in front of him.

After all, no one could be strong in my place. I was all that I had, I was my best friend, at this moment.

He walked in, I heard the bell ring. I took five deep breaths before stepping out of the storage room.

"Zoey," he breathed out.

At first glance, I saw my best friend, the one whom I was sure would never hurt me. Then, the image of him kissing another girl, touching someone else, popped up and I wanted to puke all over him.

He held a bouquet of white roses, all fresh. He took a step forward and blurted out, "happy anniversary, I guess."

He gave me the bouquet and I tried my best to put it on the counter, instead of throwing it in his face.

Be strong.

My eyes dropped to his lips and they were saying something I couldn't hear. I was losing my mind, imaging them kiss someone else. I thought he was apologizing, because I'd heard him say the words so many times, they were embedded in my mind.