by Jennifer Lesser
I walk into school, and I’m beyond invisible. It is as if my former friends are making a conscious effort not to see me, as if I’m in direct sunlight, or someone handing out brochures no one wants at the mall. I walk nervously by their territory, their lockers near the art room. They are in a circle, overstuffed backpacks facing out menacingly, like fists, or shields, or bodyguards with zippered faces.
They seem to be laughing louder than they usually do. Tommy has made a joke, no doubt. They all gather around him, basking in the aura of his popularity. As I walk by, I look for Tommy. We find each other instantly. For less than a second his black-brown eyes stand out in the circle of wolves. He sees me, the girl he has trashed and burned. He turns away too quickly and laughs unnaturally.
It has been 38 hours since Tommy broke up with me. I knew from the moment we drove away in our separate cars that coming back to school would be the hardest part.
I walk into school alone with no group of friends, no one to be seen with. I have become one of the spectral masses that only attend school in order to be the person who sits behind you in math class, the extras in the film.
I don’t know what to do. I have 10 minutes before biology. I am suffocating beneath the feeling that nobody knows me, the feeling that I don’t exist without my other half.
I decide to walk to the library and back to my locker again. Maybe if someone sees me they will think I have forgotten something and not that I have no friends.
Biology begins. Tommy is on the other side of the room now. It is as if he never knew me. I imagine that Saturday didn’t happen. I imagine that I was out of town. Then he would be sitting next to me, gnawing on my pen because he knows it bothers me.
The teacher asks him a question. He gets it wrong. I cheer.
Saturday was too warm for fall. I remember that as I got out of my car to meet Tommy, the glare off the pavement made me lose my balance. The world felt uneven, unnatural, even then.
We learned about foreshadowing in English class, about the rain before the car crash, the thunder before the unwanted guest’s arrival. I should have known when the glare blinded me not to come and meet Tommy. I knew what he was going to do, yet I still blow dryed and straightened my hair. I still put on my make-up to get ready.
Tommy walked through the Starbucks door at 5:34, late, in his typical fashion. I had so many questions I wanted to ask. “What does your text message mean? What happened at Angelo’s party? Why didn’t you even speak to me yesterday?” But I just sat there, watching as he ordered some sugary, frozen drink.
“Hi,” I said in a voice too quiet and low-pitched to be my own.
He nodded and didn’t look up.
I watched as his finger lightly touched and then violently squashed a water droplet. “How are you?” I asked in the same lifeless voice as before.
“Fine.” He didn’t look up at me.
“I should probably…,” he started to say, his finger now dragging the droplet across the table. “I should probably…probably…”
I stared at him dully, as if he had already finished his words.
“I should probably go,” he said with a look too quick, too unnatural—a guilty glance.
I read his face with skepticism and questioning. I didn’t want to make this easy.
“Look,” he said, “the thing is, I don’t really want a girlfriend right now.”
I kept staring at his forehead. His eyes concentrated on his thick fingers and the droplet of water spread thin across the table. It was as if he were not speaking to me but telling me the story of what happened to another couple, as if he were telling me how Angelo dumped some girl.
“Why?” I heard myself ask. I looked down at my hand and realized it was sweating from being clenched for so long.
He mumbled something about homework, school.
I felt my throat close up. “You don’t do your homework,” I said matter of factly. “You sit next to me in biology class. I know you don’t do your homework.”
He looked up again quickly.
“It’s about Angelo’s party, isn’t it?” I asked, more gently than I intended. I wanted to be angry, to be connected with what my body was doing. I wanted to feel passion. Instead I felt as if I were watching television. He was just some guy, and I was just some girl. Soon the wacky friend would come in and everything would be all right. I wanted a laugh track to go off, anything to disrupt the silence at our table.
“You like that pretty girl you were talking to, don’t you?” I asked, again too kindly.
“It’s been 10 months,” he said, finally looking me in the eye. “I guess…I don’t know. You know what I mean…” He was looking down at the table again.
“Yes, I know what you mean,” I said. “You just don’t want me anymore.” I sounded so pathetic that I started to cry. It was embarrassing for both of us.
“Look, don’t cry. I mean, I don’t know…it has been a long time and like, you know, maybe we could, I don’t know, maybe take a break.”
He had said it. There was a heavy pause. The only thing moving was his wet finger on the tabletop. We both watched as he continued to spread the broken droplet, forcing it to dry up.
I hiccupped loudly. I always hiccup when I cry.
“I guess I’ll see you at school,” he said.
He left me facing his empty seat.
Check five reasons why you think young people your age avoid dealing with problems in their relationships.
- Don’t want to risk security.
- Fear of getting hurt.
- Fear of losing a relationship.
- Fear of hurting the other person.
- Don’t want to risk being unpopular.
- Too emotionally attached.
- Insecure about making new relationships.
- Don’t want to fail at a relationship.
- Don’t want to be alone.
- Don’t know how to break up.
- Don’t know who they are apart from a relationship.
Breaking up as friends
In one religion class the teacher has students practice breaking up and leaving the other person feeling okay. Here is some advice from these students.
Talk to the person first before telling your whole class.
Never have someone else tell.
Talk about breaking up more than once. One person may have been thinking about breaking up for two months and not get why the news is a big deal to the other, for whom it is a total surprise. Don’t expect a response right away; give the other person time to think.
Tell what is going on in the relationship simply and gently. For example, “Things aren’t clicking.” Or, “We’re going different directions.” Or, “It seems like we both are wanting to be with other people.”
Affirm the positive personality traits one likes about the other instead of just the negative. Talk it out. Be honest. You have to communicate.