How to Break a Heart

 

Inspired by @freddy_birdy on Instagram. His post was about how you never quite forget where you were when your heart was broken.

Well, I have written a lot and expressed much about my heart being broken. But here’s the flip side: I also remember where I was when I broke someone’s heart - for the last time.

Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash

My bags were packed, I was ready to go, and I was standing right by the door. It would be the last time I would ever see that house, our home, and it didn’t bother me, not one bit. My heart was somewhere else, I was distracted, and I couldn’t wait to leave. I didn’t pause for one minute to think of the pain I would leave behind. I was waiting for my friend Susan to come take me to the airport.

Then the door opened, surprising me. Adam walked in, evidently a hurried lunch break from work to say goodbye. “So, you’re off then,” he said, as he glanced at my luggage. His hands were in his pockets as always, a slight crease appeared between the eyebrows, and a worried look in his eyes. His usual cheer was absent, although he still smiled at me when I turned to look at him.

“Yes,” I said.

“How are you going to the airport? Do you need a ride? I can take you if you like? I can call and let them know I'll be back late.”

“Susan’s taking me,” I said. I could tell he was not okay, but I had no words of comfort to offer him.

He walked around the house, emptier now, and silent. The dog was gone, and I soon would be too. I followed slowly, pausing while he paced, watching him, my mind on the time, my ear listening for Susan’s car. He sat down on the couch we had bought two years ago, our first new purchase after we’d bought the house. He placed his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped under his chin as he studied the carpet. I could tell he was struggling with himself. I set my purse on the table, and sat on the arm of the couch next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. It trembled.

“Don’t go!” It was a soft plea. I was silent. There was no time for this. There had been six months for this but he had to do this now? We had been over it a few times. I was not in love with him anymore. He just wasn’t the man of my dreams. I wanted so much more from my life. Passion and adventure and… and… I didn’t even really know what. But I knew I was leaving. Going home.

I gently but impatiently rubbed his shoulders. What was to be said? I had already said everything and I didn’t want to start again now. There was no time. Susan would be here any minute.

“Adam,” I said as gently as I could, “I really am sorry. Very sorry.”

As I watched, I saw large teardrops slide down his fists which were at his eyes, and fall onto his blue jeans, darkening the fabric. My stomach clenched. For an instant, for just that instant, I wanted to hold him close and tell him that I would be with him always and never ever leave him. For that instant I wanted nothing more than to wipe his tears and see him smile his boyish grin again. I wanted to hear the steady rhythm of his heart, hear him laugh, sing, and watch him set a dance floor on fire.

But I did not. I did not tell him that. Instead, I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked him levelly in the eye, and told him, “You are going to be just fine, Adam. You probably deserve better anyway.” And that was the truth of it, no matter how I want to weave that story, the truth was that he deserved better. Sometimes I think I tell myself that so that I can feel better about what I did; the truth is never that simple though. I did what I thought was right for me then. It just turned out, luckily for both of us, that  it was the best thing for him.

“NO!” he said, grabbing my hands in both his. The tears were streaming fast down his dear face. I looked at him, wanting to memorise every feature, because I didn’t think I would ever see him again. The stubble that darkened his jaw was a day old, the greys at his temples had increased, his shirt was open at the collar… It was a blue checked shirt. His brown eyes tilted down at the end a little, making him look sadder, and the dark circles under his eyes matched mine. Adam had the sweetest smile I’ve seen on a man, but that was nowhere to be seen then.

We sat like that for a minute or two. Me just gazing at him, and he holding back his tears and fighting to control his feelings.

I heard a car come up the drive. We stood up together. I leaned in to hug Adam goodbye. He hugged me and quickly pulled away. There was a honk as Susan announced her arrival. Adam and I looked away from each other. I moved towards my suitcases, and he stood motionless. I opened the front door and waved to Susan who was waiting by her car for me.

I carried one suitcase and took it out to her.

She put it in.

I walked back inside. Adam stood with his hands in his pockets studying the tiles in the foyer.

I picked up the second suitcase and took it to the car and Susan and I heaved it in.

I went back in. He was still there as I’d left him. I moved past him to the table to collect my purse. I looked around one last time. The blue carpet I had never liked, the large French doors that looked out onto the green lawn he tended so carefully. The rose bushes that grew around the lawn that we had planted together. The kitchen where I’d created miracles and disasters. The drawing room with the maroon sofa set. The doors that led into the other bedrooms. The door that led into what used to be our room. Everything was eerily still and quiet. This was it.

I moved to the front door. My heart pounded like I’d run a marathon. “Adam, you’ll be okay,” I said to the silent figure still standing in the foyer, frozen to the spot. I think I was reassuring myself more than trying to soothe him. I could feel Susan’s sympathetic eyes on my back.

“I’m leaving,” I said to him again.

He looked up. “Bye, Anu,” he said softly. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” I said. 

I turned around and pulled the door shut behind me. It was a big blue, wooden front door. There were large urns on either side, and sconces on the walls. Elegant, I remember thinking when we bought the house.