Heartbreak  − June, 2000

“Why don’t you just leave?” He asked, angrily, one day. So I did. I turned, and left. With each step I took down the hallway of his apartment, I imagined him rushing to catch me. I imagined him grabbing my arm, pulling me back to him. I imagined him saying, “don’t go.” I imagined him saying, “I love you.” This did not happen.

His roommate and best friend was the one who comforted me. He walked with me away from the apartment, telling jokes to try to make me laugh. We hung out that evening and I cried to him. “Why doesn’t he love me?” Page wrapped his arms around me and stroked my hair; his shirt was wet with my tears. “Because he is a fool,” Page offered, his voice low and soothing. He let me cry until I was spent. And then he kissed me. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, smiling at me. I offered a weak smile in return. “And I wanted to dance with you to this song for so long.” He shuffled the music to Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers. He stood up, took my hand and then slow danced me in the living room. I rested my head against his chest and all I could think of was Peter. I felt so broken. It was awful.