Shannen Camp - The Breakup Artist

Though I felt like scum for deceiving him, I somehow figured that it was better that he never know rather than having him find out and get hurt. Obviously it would be better for me that way, but somehow it had to be better for him as well.

I drove to school, leaving myself just enough time to park in the side parking lot and barely make it to my class on time. I didn’t want to run the risk of seeing David in the hallway on the way to class. I’d also have to remember to wait for a few minutes after the bell rang to make my way to the tennis courts, just in case he decided to loiter around the hallways today.

Miss Tess seemed to take note of my drastic change in style during psychology, but said nothing, as I knew she would. She had observed my happiness in the last few days and had made a few cryptic remarks about how love was in the air, but now she just stayed behind her desk and eyed me suspiciously from time to time. When the bell rang, I made a process of putting my things in my black leather purse and checking my appearance in a little hand mirror until Miss Tess actually had to kick me out of her class.

The tennis courts were nearby, and I wondered as I walked if Alex would have a group of friends with him or if he and Rachel hung out at the courts alone. If he was alone it would be much easier to get the job done, but I was used to having to work around friends, so either way I’d be fine. When I turned the corner to the brick wall separating the pool from the rest of the school I saw a blond boy walk by me. I thought for a split second that it was David and instantly lowered my gaze to the ground, though I knew I was just being paranoid.

Just as Rachel had promised, I found Alex at the tennis courts with a few male friends. I tried to ready myself for the upcoming job, but found that I had no desire for the tasks that I used to find at least mildly amusing. This really had become work for me. If I hadn’t been lying to David about it, I was sure it would at least feel a bit more like it used to, but the new added layer of deception was taking its toll on my conscience. Still, I had gotten this far and it was too late to go back, so I made myself walk those few last steps to the group of boys. I put on an alluring smile for the tall, dark, and handsome boy in front of me.

Because I’d have to get Alex to break up with Rachel, I’d have to play this differently than all of my other conquests. I made no reference to Rachel as I shamelessly flirted with the boy before me. I simply told him that I had gotten lost looking for one of my classes because I was new and tragically not used to the discomforts of the public school system. This, of course, got him wondering about my background. I then hinted at my rich parents and good upbringing, all the while laying on the charm and completely ignoring his love-struck friends. This made him feel special, as I knew it would, but by the end of break he still hadn’t made a move.

I was glad I wouldn’t have to worry about the complexity of explaining to David that I had taken a job but I was slightly disappointed that Alex hadn’t taken the bait enough to choose me over Rachel. I reasoned that, because it was a different type of job, it would take longer than my usual routine of breaking the news and cushioning the blow.

The routine at lunch followed much in the same pattern that the break time scene had. We flirted, he implied that he was single without coming right out and saying it, and I continued to get him interested in me. By the end of the day, I had still come up short, and I wondered if maybe Alex had to actually break up with Rachel before making a move on me because of his parents. It hadn’t struck me before that these kids actually had an image to maintain. I guess I had just figured that because they were rich kids, they’d behave like spoiled celebrities who did stupid and scandalous things just to get noticed.

With this reassurance firmly in place, I walked to my car, thinking I’d give Alex the weekend to stew over my offer. I’d just get his number from Rachel and text him, hinting that I was really craving good company at a nice restaurant. It was my fatal flaw to assume everything would work itself out and so, I shouldn’t have been at all surprised to see David leaning against my car, looking like he could murder someone.

I approached him cautiously, like a child who had dirtied their new and expensive Sunday clothes. He didn’t say anything when I reached him, but he simply stared at me, a mixture of disbelief, anger, and hurt on his beautiful face. I didn’t know what to say, though I knew I owed him some sort of explanation. My embarrassment flooded together with my stupid pride, telling me that I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. I looked down at the ground, refusing to speak first, and biting my lip to keep from telling him how sorry I was. How much I wanted to keep him in my life. How stupid it was of me to take on another job after promising I wouldn’t. How much it hurt me that I’d lied to him. How I wanted him to forgive me and forget the whole thing.

Of course, I said none of that and just continued to stare at the ground. He looked for a moment as if he might say something, but then shut his mouth and walked away without a word, his face a mask of disappointment and sadness. The wetness on my cheeks served as a cruel reminder of my own stupidity. It seemed like I had been crying a lot that week.

David didn’t come to pick me up for our date that night, though I wasn’t sure if I had really expected him to. What I did expect was an angry phone call or email. I expected an angry anything, really. Anything would have been better than the silence I experienced that Friday night. My mother was out, as usual, and I was beginning to wonder if she was just going to stay at some other house now that we’d had our little encounter. The house was completely empty and silent, just like my life. I had tried to call David several times, but he never picked up. I left at least four messages telling him I was sorry and that if he’d just let me talk to him I could explain everything, but it seemed like no matter what I did, he didn’t feel compelled to call me back.

Saturday passed much in the same way. I saw my mother briefly in the kitchen as she was on her way out the door. She gave me a little nod of her head by way of a greeting but said nothing. I had finished my homework for the entire weekend the night before, which left me with absolutely nothing to do. I tried to paint, but found that I couldn’t think of a single thing that would make me feel better.

After hours of sitting around staring at my paints, I picked up the phone and called Rachel.

“Hello?” said a groggy voice. It was almost one in the afternoon, so the fact that Rachel was still sleeping was quite a feat.

“Hey, it’s Amelia,” I said dully. “I was just wondering if Alex has broken up with you yet.” Under any other circumstances that sentence would have sounded incredibly rude and out of place, but as it stood, it was really the only reason I could be calling Rachel.

“Not yet. He hasn’t called me all weekend though, so I’m assuming that’s a good sign. Maybe he’s thinking it over and trying to find a way to let me down easy.” She laughed at this, though I didn’t see what was so amusing about it. “Anyways, if he doesn’t call me on Sunday, I’ll just ditch school Monday to give you another chance at getting him to do it. After that, I’m rescinding my offer.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” I said unenthusiastically.

“I figured you would,” she said, and then the line went dead. I was beginning to notice that none of my clients seemed to posses the ability to say “good-bye” to end their phone conversations. They all just kind of hung up. Maybe it was because in their eyes I was more like the hired help-more like a vending machine than a human being. I ran my fingers through my blonde, messy hair, fully aware that I hadn’t brushed it that morning, and searched through the contact list on my phone. I now had six numbers saved rather than just five, though it didn’t make much of a difference, since that sixth number wouldn’t answer my calls.