Dear Emma James,
It feels like I should be starting this with something like I still remember the day, or I’ll never forget when it happened, when we ended and I was alone again, but it’s only been a week so it’s not like much time has passed, even if each day has been a year and a day, and the week seems like it’s lasted centuries, it’s only been a week. A week since the call.
Who does that? Call to tell someone they’ve been with for five years, five years that day, our god damn anniversary, that she’s done? Who does that? That’s what I latched on to, October fifth, 2011, that’s when we actually said we were a couple, dating.
You knew, you knew how I felt about marriage, I didn’t see the point. I still don’t but if you felt we were living in sin you should have mentioned that, or maybe I didn’t understand you well enough, maybe you’re right and this is for the best. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t mean I’m not angry.
Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have done a better job of ending it.
I get home, you’re gone, the things that were, for the most part, yours, were gone or packed and there was a note saying the movers would be over and that I should call you. You didn’t call me, I had to call you, to figure out what was happening. You’d met someone three months back, and you’d been seeing him, and this was my fault somehow? Somehow it was my fault you felt the need to do this, it was my fault my career hadn’t taken off and I was starting as a substitute English teaching in two months, it was my fault, all of it, everything that went wrong was my fault somehow. Yes, you top this all off with we can still be friends, a smile in your voice and it’s like you’re laughing at me.
You’re willing to throw away everything we’ve built, everything, without any kind of fight for it, on the day we built it, throwing it all away with a post it note a couple of boxes and a phone call, yet we can still be friends? Are you kidding me? How do you, how does that even compute? Where did you come up with that grand scheme? Cause it wasn’t reality, it sure as hell wasn’t with me in mind. No, I’m sorry miss, we can’t be friends, please lose my number. Now, now that I’m writing this, I was sad, devastated, for that week, but now after its all said and done, I’m just angry. I want my five years back, I want my cat back, but I don’t want you back. Not after this, you’ve not only burnt the bridge but you’ve destroyed all the historical records of it to, there is nothing left.
However, despite this, part of me still cares, and that part of me, that small kernel of love I bear for you still, wants to say I hope you can find that happiness, I hope you find it and I hope you don’t throw it away with a post it note and a phone call. I hope you fight for it and can smile again eventually. However, it won’t ever be with me, I can say that, regardless of what happens, the ship has sailed, we’re done and I want to say that with real feeling to make sure the closure is there, to make sure its clear.
I wish you well, truly I do, this is all I have time for. I have to go setup the lesson plan for my classes. Six months as a stint as an English teacher for the local high school, should be a learning experience certainly.
Elliot S. Jacobs