Shannen Camp - The Breakup Artist

“Amelia, you aren’t understanding me. I’m not breaking up with you… I mean… I’m sure you might want to break up with me after reading the horrible things I wrote about you… but I’m not going to be the one to leave tonight.” I looked at him quizzically, not quite following what he was trying to tell me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, wiping the tears away from my face. Now that they were drying, the salt was beginning to sting my cheeks.

“You said you only read half of the article? Judging by your very emotional reaction, you only read the bad things I wrote, back when I was observing you… before I actually got to know you.” He looked down guiltily. “Not that it excuses the things I said. I was really awful… I went on and on about how you judge people based on their appearance when I completely judged you before ever speaking to you.” As he spoke I started to feel that same creeping hope come back to me. Maybe things really weren’t as bad as they seemed.

“So the second half is nice?” I asked hopefully.

“Well, that’s the thing. I was trying to write a story about perception. You know? Like how I felt about you and what you did before meeting you and if that idea changed after finally meeting you. I thought it would make an interesting article to have a before and after point of view… just to see if my perception of you changed at all.”

“And did it?”

David smiled at me, pulling me close to him once more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so wrong about a person before,” he said, kissing the top of my head lightly. “And the thing is, I don’t even want to turn the article in anymore. I kind of want to keep it just to remind me how wrong I can be sometimes… but for some odd reason, I’m really not that intent on destroying you anymore.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” I said with a laugh. “Because it’d be nice to not worry about my boyfriend being a soul-crushing, life-ruining leech.”

“I just said I wouldn’t turn the story in… not that I was changing who I really am,” he said sarcastically. I smiled up at him, letting myself feel relaxed for the first time in a few days.

“So are we still on for Tuesday then?” I asked with a grin.

“Let’s bring this guy down.”

Monday night came with all the anticipation of a high-risk bank robbery. Rachel was still faking sick and said she hadn’t seen Alex since the last time she was in school. I had somehow gotten him to agree to take me out to his and Rachel’s favorite restaurant, which I thought was a bit bold of him. This boy was definitely overconfident and needed his ego taken down a few notches.

I decided to go for a classy look for the date and chose a black and white tweed pencil skirt that came up high on my waist with a tucked-in light pink blouse. The cream colored high heels tied the whole thing together and made me look like something straight out of the 1950s. It took quite a bit of convincing to get Alex to just meet me at the restaurant instead of picking me up, but there was no way he’d believe I was as rich and well connected as him if he saw my house. I was hoping I could get there early enough that he wouldn’t even see me get out of my car that was clearly not worth millions of dollars. I finally told him there was a lot of construction going on with our house with the new home theatre we were putting in and I didn’t want him to have to walk through all the dust and debris. This seemed to work because he then quickly agreed to simply meet me at the restaurant.

Walking into the restaurant that night was a bit jarring. I was sure the hostess would see right past my façade and tell me to get out because they didn’t serve my kind there. Luckily when I told her who I was meeting, she made sure I was comfortable at an intimate table for two. Alex arrived right on time and seemed to be surprised that I was already at the restaurant. Apparently he was used to waiting on high-maintenance dates.

“Marie,” he said with a charming smile, “you’re here early.”

“Actually, Alex, I’m here right on time,” I replied, giving him a wink and my most inviting smile. I had to try to keep the small talk up for a while since Rachel said she might be a bit late. We had decided that the best way to get this whole thing done would be to bring her parents along with her so that they would see just how “horrible” Alex was and forbid her from seeing him anymore. Sadly this meant the scene that played out here would probably be very dramatic and loud, but I didn’t mind too much since I was positive I wouldn’t be coming back to this restaurant again any time soon.

I made sure to rest my hand lightly on the table so that Alex could place his hand gently over mine. Our conversation wasn’t particularly exciting, but I pretended to hang on his every word, leaning over the small circular table to get closer to him. The waitress had already come around and taken our orders, which worried me since I had expected Rachel and her parents to be there long before that happened. I was sorely tempted to take out my phone and call her to ask what was taking so long but I knew that would look far too suspicious, not to mention low-class. Instead I let Alex order for me (since I definitely didn’t speak French) and continued to lean into him as if everything he said enthralled me.

After forty-five minutes of listening to him ramble on about why the public school system was so beneath him and he liked when people knew their place in society, Rachel and her parents finally arrived. As much as I didn’t want a scene, I was desperate to get out of that restaurant so I decided to help things along a little. I snuggled up closer to Alex so that I was practically sitting on his lap and made a small, innocent observation.

“Alex, why is that girl looking over here? She just keeps staring and it’s starting to make me uncomfortable. Could you do something about that?” I asked, looking up at him from under my eyelashes.

“Where?” he asked, obviously surprised that I had spoken, since it was the first time since this date started that I had been able to get a word in. As Alex looked around the room, I saw all of the color drain from his face faster than I thought was healthy. After that it didn’t take long for the fight to begin. Rachel strode over to the table like a bull on a rampage with her parents in tow behind her. Alex stood up with his arms spread wide as if trying to say that he had no idea how he had ended up at a nice restaurant with a girl who was definitely not his girlfriend. This, however, didn’t seem to work because Rachel drew her hand so far back that she almost hit her startled mother and slapped Alex hard enough to quiet the whole restaurant.

Though I knew there would be a scene, I hadn’t expected such a forceful reaction, especially since Rachel had planned the whole thing. I thought she would at least cut the boy some slack since she knew he wasn’t technically cheating. This knowledge didn’t seem to faze her at all.

“Daddy, do you see what I have to put up with?” she shrieked, drawing the attention of everyone who hadn’t already been alerted by the slap. “He’s disloyal! I’ve been trying to tell you for so long. I deserve so much better than him, Daddy!” After this proclamation, Rachel broke down into what I can only describe as the most poorly acted fit of crying I had ever seen. Her mother wrapped an understanding arm around her daughter’s shaking shoulders, which I found at least slightly endearing. They might be filthy rich and spoiled rotten but they still possessed human emotion, which was more than I expected. The “human emotion” coming from Rachel’s father, however, was less endearing and more terrifying.