Chapter 8
Looking at the person in front of me, I realized I didn’t feel the slightest bit of attachment anymore. Michael had been my
first love–my first real crush at nineteen. But now, I no longer had feelings for him.
I said, “Did you ever stop to consider the implications of being alone with Emily in a hotel room all night? You talk about being like siblings, but you know as well as I do there’s no blood relation.”
Michael’s face broke into a strange, hopeful smile. “Juliana, I knew you cared about me. You’re jealous, right? I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Let’s not break up, okay?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not okay.”
I had pursued him so fervently in the past, but now I was just as determined to walk away. Michael blocked my path, desperation in his voice. “Is it because of that man? Who is he? Did you cheat on me?”
I felt a surge of disgust and marched toward the street, eager to shake Michael off. I was done with words.
Suddenly, Michael pulled me into his car and locked the doors. It pounded on the window, shouting, “Michael, let me out!”
Michael refused, insisting, “No! You’re my girlfriend. If I don’t agree to a breakup, it won’t happen!”
The possessiveness of some men is terrifying. When a woman. follows them blindly, they grow bored. But when she wants to Neave, they treat her like a lost possession worth fighting for.
I wasn’t some object for him to reclaim. So when he parked back. at the apartment we used to share, I got out, intending to leave straight away.
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Michael caught up with me, pleading, “Juliana, don’t leave me, please.”
I shook my head again, responding, “Michael, it’s too late. I have given you a lot chances. You never valued them. I’m done. Nothing you say will change that.
“No,” Michael continued to beg, “Please, give me one more chance. I’ll change, I promise, Juliana.”
I asked him, “Michael, Do you know the meaning of ‘surplus‘?” He stared at me, confused.
“The book says a fan in winter, a coat in summer, and your attentiveness after I’ve given up–those aren’t needed here.”
Michael’s voice shook as he pleaded, “Juliana, just forgive me this once. I know I’ve been horrible, hurt you so much. I want to make it up to you, please.”
I no longer cared about apologies or promises. I just wanted to leave Michael behind.
Just then, a soft voice came from the apartment building, “Mikey; you’re back. The power is out again at my place…”
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. I smiled at Michael and said, “She needs you more than I do. Go be with your ‘babe Emmy.‘ And if you both ever end up in front of a justice of the peace, don’t forget to thank me.”
Emily’s plaintive voice called out again, “Mikey…”
Michael turned pale, and for the first time, yelled at Emily, “Stop calling me that!”
Emily, taken aback, cried, “Mikey, you scared me…”
I watched the drama unfold, feeling utterly detached. Not wanting to witness any more, I turned on my heel and left
21:10
