Part II

I'm staring at a cloud that looks like Richard Nixon's face. It's cold out, the hard breeze from the ocean is making it so. Sitting along the sea wall, we try and stay warm while looking across the shore towards Navy Pier.

This isn't when I had planned on any talking taking place, that was supposed to happen after dusk. The lights of Navy Pier shooting along the wharf as the sunset shoots across the sky would have provided the perfect contrast to an otherwise terribly uninviting conversation. But I hadn't planned on it being so cold, and to wait until dark would be just waiting for it to get even colder.

What are you thinking about? is a common question. Serves as really the only conversation starter when we both know the other has something on their mind. Neither have ever been very good at just... coming out and saying something, but when it comes to beating around the bush we would both be neck and neck racing for the gold.

So, what are you thinking? she asks.

I smile and shake my head. That cloud looks like Richard Nixon's face, I say.

Really? I was just thinking it sorta looked like a poodle.

One and the same, really.

She smiles.

Silence Silence Silence.

She starts to say something but stops.

What? I ask.

Nothing, she says.

I know the steps to this dance by now. Okay, I say and lie back on the concrete.

She breathes in sharply. It's just... um... I just feel like I have to tell you something. I don't want... I don't want anything to get awkward while I'm here or... or anything.

Okay.

No, nevermind. Sorry, it doesn't matter.

Please, I'm already braced for the very worst. Hit me.

... What's the worst?

(You've really just flown out here to make sure I understand that you no longer have any feelings for me, in fact... you have a new boyfriend, a new boyfriend that you are very happy with and may even love, and... and you just need me to know that because... because you really did want us to work out once upon a time but... but you've moved on.)

You're married and are pregnant with twins, I say.

She lets out a sigh that was originally supposed to be some sort of forced giggle.

No... I kind of... I kind of have a new... a new boyfriend.

I nod to my self and focus in on Nixon's face. If I squint my eyes enough, I can sort of make out the poodle.

Silence Silence Silence.

Sorry, she says.

Why? I ask. My voice sounds a bit more sardonic than I mean it to.

Silence Silence Silence.

She says something that means nothing to me. A string of apologies we've already run into the ground the past eight months, useless explanations and justifications and assurances that mean absolutely nothing.

Silence Silence Silence.

What are you thinking? she asks.

I laugh. It doesn't matter.

Yes it does.

No, it really really doesn't.

And though it doesn't, it really really doesn't, she convinces me with her eyes that I need to at least pretend that it does. And I talk. I talk for so long, about nothing really. Half the words I say are recycled, not even cut up and pasted in a different order. The other half is just a bunch of words I feel obligated to say, words I feel like she wants to hear or words I tell myself I will want to have said in the future. I'm not sad yet. At this point I don't feel like I'm allowed to be sad.

I saw it coming, didn't I?

She keeps apologizing. I obviously look more flustered than I allow myself to feel. But there is nothing for her to apologize for, and I say this.

Silence Silence Silence.

Do you really think you would have been happy with me? she asks.

I was happy with you.

But... but I don't know if I would have been happy. I don't... I don't have one memory of ever being truly happy, Andrew.

My heart, already in my stomach, drops down to my balls and I feel ready to vomit.

Really? I ask. I mean... really?

Silence.

Yes.

I take a short breath in and cock my head. That... that sucks.

I don't want to believe it. I can't.

It's like the very beginning of an earthquake when you realize everything you are familiar with and rely on around you is falling apart, but you can't slow down enough to think about what that everything is. You don't have enough time to understand what it all means, you just... you just know that it's happening.

I want to think that she's just convinced herself of this to help her move on, that she's just... been away from me for so long she's had enough time to... to just pretend... to pretend in order to move on.

Silence Silence Silence.

More talking starts up, but I stop paying attention. All I can think about is the fact I we still have a whole day ahead of us, and a whole three more days after that.

We eventually rise and start to head to the Art Institute. It's free on Thursdays from 5 until 8. I thought it would have been fun.

I'm very quiet, now. It's a bit of a walk. She tries to spark conversation. What are you thinking? has never been more aggravating.

And she plays games with me, trying to race me down small sets of stairs, making jokes, touching my elbow, bumping into me with her shoulder, playful things, little games we used to play all the time when we were together.

And I realize... these games we play are games she plays with everyone. This is who she is. And I fell in love with this girl, like most people do, because she was kind to me and made me feel... like we had something.

And suddenly... we never did.