Megan Thomas

     The tears trickled down my face.  I clung to my pillow for support.  I fell onto my side, my skin constricting rapidly against the cement floor.  My knees found their way to my chest and I trembled.   I had asked my parents to lend me the money.  They disagreed with Greg and I having sex but, made the reservation for the hotel anyway.  
     Mom told me that she could see how happy I was with him-she reminded me how she didn't condone what we were doing but she loved me so much.  They wanted me to be happy.  I knew that they would say no to lending me money to spend the night with my boyfriend.  Dad surprised me when he called the Days Inn, made the reservation for two nights and put it on the credit card.  I thought they would be angry that I would ask them to help me to sin.  They were not.  
     Mom always told me that if I decided to do things backwards and have a child before I was married that I should go find a new family while I was out ruining myself and the family name.  Dad said I was the best and deserved the best out of life.  The only way I could get the best was to get married and start a family.  Pass along my good sense to the next generation. Maybe work after the child graduates from high school.  Shit.  Why not wait till I'm 112 to start living my life?  This was the argument we'd had countless times before.  Greg was different and they knew when to back down.  
     
     "Hi honey, what's up?"
     "I just got back from the doctor.  I messed up my knee pretty bad playing ball."
     "Oh God, are you all right?"
     "Yeah.  I guess but, they couldn't do much for me."
     "I'm sorry."
     "So what's going on with you?"
     "I was thinking about coming up to see ya-if that works for you."
     "Great!  We could stay in the guest housing if you want-I stayed there with my parents, it wasn't too bad."
     "Whatever.  I guess I'll meet you there, or call you if I get lost."
     "OK.  Oh, Jamison wants Shawna to call him.  I'll see you in a little while.  Bye."
     "Bye."

I handed the phone to Shawna, "Call Jamison."  The phone was soon handed back to me. "Hello?"
     "Hon, my knee is hurting and stuff.  Why don't you come tomorrow night instead?"
     "I would have to leave at 5 Tuesday morning to make it to my class."
     "5, it'll work out.  I see ya tomorrow night.  Okay?"
     "Okay, bye."  
I breathed in sharply but, no air seemed to reach my lungs.  The tears welled up in my eyes as my heart sunk.  Questions ran through my mind.  I left the room.  
     Hasn't he missed me?  I haven't seen him since Valentine's Day.  A month.  Am I just a good lay?  I have given up so much to be with him.  I rearranged my entire week just so I could spend the last two nights with him.  He'll be gone at least a year.  I won't be able to afford to fly across the world to see him.  He can't expect me to give up everything.  He chose this job 'to be all he could be'.  What did he think he'd be doing in the army?  Waiting for his time to run out? Of course they would send this group of young guys over.  They're  still pumped about serving their country.  I love him-does he think that this is all a joke?  I can't deal with this.  I can't just go up and sleep with him.  I'm worth more than that.  I need more than sex.  I want him to give me as much as I give him.  
     
     "Why'd you do this?  I haven't had a chance to get you a gift.  I haven't even been out to get you a card."
     "You don't have to get me anything.  I just don't want you to forget me after you've gone."  
     "How could I ever forget you?  I'll go in to town and get you something tomorrow. Okay.  You're too good to me.  I feel        like shit, its Valentines Day and I don't even have a damn card for you.  If I would have known you were coming I would        have done something..."
     "It's not a big deal at all.  You've been away in training for two weeks.  When were you going to be able to get me a       present?  I just wanted to surprise you."

I love him.  I can't deal with this. I can't go see him tomorrow night or ever again.  I'll break up with him.  I have to.
 I pull out the nearest drawer.  Soccer clothes.  
I'll go jogging.  I need to figure things out.  I can't sit in here any longer. I need to leave-to get somewhere.  Everything will come to me then.  I just need to escape for a while.  

 I select an outfit after flipping through the two drawers of cool nylon shorts.  My baggy black shorts will make me look thinner and my red sports bra makes my chest look bigger.  I can run without my shirt on and look good.  
     I undo the top button of my shirt.  The white piece of shell slides easily through its matching hole with only a small bit of urging on.  My second button slips quickly undone.  I move by my bed, feeling the shape of the second button between my index finger and thumb. The front is smooth and feels like the marble counter top in the bathroom.  My finger slides across its front and slows only going over the bunches of thread in its center.  
     The rest of the buttons are ripped from their comfortable position as I pull the two sides of shirt apart.  I drop the shirt and undo the back clasp of my sexist bra.  
This is the bra I bought for Greg.  I knew he would love it and now he'll probably never see it.  
I jerk the side-seam zipper down.  The silk mini skirt slips down around my ankles.  I step out of the fabric encircling my feet and pick up my work out clothes.  
     The shorts slide on and the bra looks okay after a little fidgeting.  I pick up my shoes. Sitting on the bed, I place the left one on my foot.  I straighten my sock.  Then tie the long shoelaces in a flopping bow.  I then move to the right.  I have to untwist the laces all the way down at the toe before I can tie my double knots.  Sniffling, I head out of the door and make my way through the hall, glancing at the identical doors hoping for an open room with a friendly face able to help me figure out what to do.  My head tilted down further when I recognized shoes approaching me head-on.  
     "Meg, are you okay?"
     I look up to find Shawna looking somewhat concerned of my strange situation.  "I'm going to break up....with.....Greg."  The tears gush from my eyes. They spurt out like blood from an artery.  I feel arms around me. "Got to figure out what to say to him.....I don't know.....I love him."  The arms drop after patting my back but, I still feel the thousand pounds of weight on my shoulders.
     "Really.  Well, come see me after you call him.  I need your thoughts on what I should wear on Friday.  Jamison wants to celebrate our two week anniversary someplace nice.  I want to look really hot!"
     "Yeah.  Bye."
The wind whipped around the track.  I began to move.  Left foot; Right foot; Left;  Right; Left. Tears raced my pounding feet.  My arms pumped alongside my body, aiding them in the battle. Forward, backward, forward, back, front, back.  The wind stung the trails of tears flowing down my  cheeks.  
It's not fair.  I'll tell him that I need to come first-no more last place girlfriend.  I'll tell him that it's not fair....and that I love him.  
Wind stung my chest where the tears had stuck themselves.  I raised my damp shirt and wiped off my face.  
I'll tell him that I'm not a slut.  That he has no right to treat me like one.  I tell him that I'll write him as soon as I feel able.  That I wish him well; and love him.  Maybe things will be better when he gets back.  Maybe he will put me first.  I would have married him.   

My feet moved faster:  left, right, left, right.  The air rushed in and out of my body.  Giving me life, also taking it every time  I lost control of the tears and choked.  They continued to march down my face  military style.  Single file.  All in step.  One after another.  They continued this parade as I complete my first circle of the track.  I could hear my feet hitting the track in step with the tears.  They sound like the men running at the base in the morning, the sound gets louder and louder until your own heart beats with the talk of their feet.  
     
     "Do you think we can make it?"  
We were in his bed still clinging to each other.  The drying sweat made our bodies stick together.
     "Yeah.  As long as you don't dump me for one of the other guys.  I'll be all alone and you'll have twenty guys begging for your time."
     "Whatever.  What about you?  You'll be gone a month tops, before you find somebody prettier and funnier than me!  You'll come home and want nothing to do with me."
     "You drive me crazy.  I love you."  

The cool wind stung my lips.  
His kisses never hurt.  They always sent shivers down my spine and put butterflies in my stomach.  
My arms dropped from exhaustion; lower to my sides yet still pumped me on with vigor.
     Twenty laps later,  the wind had gained strength and froze my face where the tears had been.  I felt dizzy my world was fuzzy and dark.  I couldn't tell if I was out of shape, or if the circular running had gotten to me.  That sometimes happens.
I suck.  What a loser.  I can't keep a good boyfriend much less figure out how to break up with him.  Maybe I should just wait till he ends it.  He'll know how to do it.  He'll make it out to be his fault.  I'll be off the hook.  I wish I had the guts to do it myself.  I'm not happy.  What's the point?  I would never be able to make him happy as his wife.  He's so good looking and charming.  Everybody adores him.  We don't match up.  
I went to my room, grabbed an apple and headed to the kitchen.  The apple was soft, making it difficult to carve.  
I should call home and tell them what I'm going to do.  I might as well get their lecture about it being my choice but that I'm making a mistake over with.  They've always loved him.  They probably love him more than they love me even.
I pressured my finger on the blade.  A moment the knife was accepted-huddled by my skin then without warning it penetrated.  The knife blade was sharp.  I sliced skin as I ran my finger over the blade.  I wanted to be in control, to say stop or go.  I watched for the five seconds it took for blood to show.  I cut the apple pieces smaller and smaller.  A pile of apple flecks littered the cabinet.   I placed the knife beside them and wiped the blade where I thought I saw apple peel.  

Returning to my room, I sat on the cold tile floor.  The phone crept into my hand.  I began pushing numbers.  Ringing.  He answered on the other end.  I placed the phone down and retrieved the knife for purification.  I traced my tear stains with the knife.  Starting in the corner of my eye, I tickled my cheeks with the cold metal point.  Again I traced, this time harder and longer.  From my eye, down my cheeks;  pausing at the corner of my lips.  I smiled.  Liquid covered the tip of the knife.  Tracing began again.  This time I stopped only after I reached the tear stains in my shirt.  I moved the knife up.  I realized that a few tears had stopped at my neck. I used the knife to connect the sides together.  Lousy tears.  Couldn't make it all the way?  Gave up, huh?  You can't win if you quit.  Quitters never win.  You must be thorough in your work. Complete every mission.  You must succeed.  I paused to look at the phone as it spoke to me and moved quickly to end the ringing.