Daphne Lamb - The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse

“Neither of you have heard that expression?” I asked.

They continued to stare at me in stony silence.

“You know that joke kills with the marketing department.”

Debra cleared her throat, got to her feet and went into a downward dog position. “No one talk to me while I’m one with the universe,” she said, taking deep breaths.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I meant to ask, who’s this group you saw?”

“They’re weird,” I said. “Almost culty. They sing, they have an odd language of feel good terms and they were really interested in my muscle tone. Or fat tone. Something like that. And I think the leader really wanted to meet the rest of you.”

“Who’s the leader?” he asked.

“Darren Warren,” I said. “He’s the art critic for the paper.”

“Wait,” Bruce said from the other room. He ran over and poked his head in. “Darren Warren?”

“Yes.”

“ The Darren Warren?”

“Yes.”

He kicked the kitchen table and waved his arms in anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “We could’ve had a different conversation that would have led to me becoming best friends with Darren Warren.”

“Well, we just started talking about it.”

“These are things you should tell me right away,” he said. “You know how much I would give to just get in the room with that guy. He spelled my name wrong in a review of The Farnsworth Incident , and I never got the chance to explain it to him.”

“If it helps,” I said, “he seems more excited about TV reruns these days. Besides, you never tried to explain that play to me.”

He rolled his eyes and stood. “God!” he yelled. “Why is everything such a joke with you?”

I was a little stunned at him, but I sucked in my breath. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was wrong of me.”

He paced around the room in a cold silence.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really am.”

He was still silent.

“I don’t know what I can do to convince you of that,” I said. “But we’re kind of living in a time where we probably need each other more than ever…”

He let his voice drop, then went into a heavy pause. “Or something.”

Debra popped her head in.

“I’ve figured out why you look so much better than the rest of us,” she said.

“Oh?”

Bruce stared me down.

She pointed a bony finger at me. “You had a shower, didn’t you?”

I swallowed hard. “Did the universe tell you that?”

“No,” she said. “Just felt I had to say something.” She turned on her heel, winced and hobbled out.

“I can’t believe you were going to hold that out on us too,” Bruce said. “The Verdell I used to know would’ve been more concerned about my interests. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You have no idea,” I said. “The meaningless nothing conversations, the constant arguing. I had to see what else was out here.”

“And just leave us?” he asked. “Was that your plan?”

“If I wanted to leave,” I said. “So maybe.”

He folded his arms. “Great. So when do I get to meet Darren?”

I thought back to the weird calm of the RV site, the all too eagerness of his inclusion of myself and others.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s kind of strange over there…”

I let my voice trail off, uncertain of how to describe things. He stood back, folded his arms, self-satisfied.

“Fine, then. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” he said. “I think we need to break up.”

“Break up?” I asked. “Isn’t that going to be kind of awkward?”

“I think its just time we started seeing other people.”

“Who are you going to be seeing?” I asked, looking around. “Debra?”

She poked her head back in. “What?”

Bruce impatiently waved her away.

“We’ve really just been more friends than anything else this whole time,” he said.

“Debra?”

He sighed heavily. “No, still talking about us. We’ve been playing this charade for too long.”

“Three years?” I mused. “Maybe.”

“Let’s face it,” he said. “This whole situation has changed you.”

“It’s changed everyone,” I said. “Although I’ve noticed that you use me for networking a lot more than you used to.”

“Be serious,” he said.

“I am .” My tone seemed to take him by surprise. “I don’t know why I never noticed it before, but it’s true,” I said. “And if you want to make things really awkward for us, then go right ahead.”

“Then I’ll move out,” he said. “I’ll go find your new best friend, Darren, and you’ll have to sit on the outside, looking at us having all the fun, doing all of his fun projects. He’ll spell your name wrong, and I won’t defend you.”

He stomped over to the couch fort and scooped up his belongings.

“You’re welcome to date whoever you want,” he said. “Welcome.”

“That’s generous of you,” I said. “But I’m a little disturbed that that’s where your mind is going to in a time like this.”

He shoved his things into his backpack, made his way to the door and then suddenly stopped.

“Maybe Steve Harks is single,” I said. “I’m sure someone that eligible won’t be on the market for long.”

He turned around. His face had a gentler demeanor, a complete turnaround from just a second ago.

“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry. You’ve been such a great girlfriend, and I really want us to be friends. I know every couple who breaks up says that, but I really mean it. And if you need anything you can always come to me.”

I nodded. “You too,” I said. “I understand that your career is now coming first, above people and your survival in these tumultuous times.”

“I’m taking the pretzels. I think I deserve it.”

“You’ll have to see if Debra left you any,” I said.

“Son of—”

He stormed out of the house; let the door slam behind him.

Robert entered, chewing on the heel of the loaf of bread that I had pilfered.

“What’d I miss?”

I shook my head.

“Is he getting more pretzels?” he asked. “Because the sticks are better than the twisty kind.”

I let myself collapse onto the makeshift couch bed and closed my eyes.

SO MANY THINGShad happened during the three years since Bruce and I started dating. I had watched him dabble in an unsuccessful open-mic career where he told jokes about online dating. We watched coverage of a presidential election where he picked a fight with my father over his view on tax breaks, and then he made the Boston marathon bombings about himself.

“How is this about you again?”

He’d watched the coverage on TV through misty eyes. “I could have been there at that time. That could have been me.”

“But you haven’t been back to Boston in two years. Were you supposed to be there?”

“Just forget it,” he’d said. “You clearly don’t get it.”

In those three years, he had also slept through every movie that I picked, never ate any of my cooking and always chose a Patriots games over time with me. I supposed I should have noticed the signs, but there we were in this moment in time and it was over. True, the days of us hanging out on his couch over the weekends and spending evenings with friends, well, his friends, were never coming back anyway, but it felt so unnatural to try to reconcile that my plans wouldn’t take into account of his.

“Are you okay?” Robert asked.

I looked up at him. He seemed genuinely concerned.

“There are bigger things wrong, I suppose,” I said.