She sat in the passenger side half of the car waiting. Waiting for something else to happen. Something meaningful had to go along with this breakup. Maybe she was waiting for him to finally notice. To realize all the thorns that had tangled her hair and ripped at her skin. She was hoping that by the time they broke up, he would understand her. That for some reason, tonight would be the night it would all click in his brain.

But, that break up was waiting to happen and she knew it. Two years earlier the girl knew they had an expiration date. She remembered sitting in the back of her car while her parents were driving her home from school. “We have an expiration date, don’t we?” she thought in her head. She never asked him because she knew the answer, just not the date. Now, with him at college, the date was coming rapidly and she wanted to push him towards it. Maybe it was because she could control her own sadness, or maybe it was because she wanted the relationship to be dead. That night, she sat on the couch with him, noticing how his head was tilted back, from her, and how silent his lips were. She knew this was it. She knew it was time to ask the question that she almost texted two days before.

“Am I too young for you sometimes?” She asked, knowing the answer was yes. Of course she was too young for him. She didn’t drink, smoke, or like anyone. She could get socially anxious within seconds, and could get angry or sad within seconds. Her tears were always waiting on the other side of her heart. Part of this was due to him though. She had spent countless winter nights waiting for him to come home from skiing. It’s not that she minded him making plans, she was bothered when he didn’t tell her. He could act single so easily, and she just wanted to know he was rushing home to hug her. And, maybe he was, but he never told her.

“Sometimes.” He responded and the tears came out of her eyes and onto her cheeks. She didn’t even expect them. She thought she would stay strong through the whole break up. He continued, “I just. I don’t know how I could feel this way because you made me who I am.”
“Wanna go for a ride and talk about it?” She suggested. Her parents were in the other room and she didn’t want them to know. She didn’t want them to know she was failing. He nodded his head and she got on her lying face. One she had used with him to mask her feelings about his best friend being a girl. It was the kind of best friendship that could quickly go from friends to lovers within seconds. It didn’t help that he was head over heels in love with his best friend before her. And, sometimes she wondered if she had been a rebound.

They sailed through the kitchen, making up a story about going out for dinner, but she knew she would never get that burger. Outside, he touched the side of her, making a reassuring noise, but she knew better.

“Don’t pity me,” she replied with a tone as cold as the January night. But, she should have enjoyed it. Because, that was the last time he was going to put his arm around her. The last time he would make that noise to her, the last time he would show affection. They got into the car and started driving just like any other night.

For fifteen minutes she let him talk. Asking follow up questions, wanting to make him admit he wanted to break up. She wanted him to say the words, but he never did. Instead, she did while trying to reassure him he was a good person. They finally parked in the local recreation park to finalize things. She was mad at him. She was more than mad. She had two years of moments built up in her that were waiting to spill out into his lap, yet they didn’t. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

She told him she couldn’t go back yet. She just couldn’t. She was hoping he would just sit there with her, that he had that in him. That he could hold her hand and see that she was hurting. That she was physically biting her hand because no physical pain could be equal to knowing he didn’t want her anymore. And, he did sit there with her. But, there was no attempt to comfort her. Maybe this wasn’t his job either. But, to her, it was his job.

“I want to punch your window,” she casually remarked. She meant this as a joke, but in fact she really did want to. She also had the urge to scream and throw up and stab her hand. She was hoping this comment would make him laugh because he was crying to, and she didn’t want that.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh,” she sank even further into herself. He didn’t even attempt to laugh.

“I can’t do this anymore. I have to take you home.” He sounded annoyed, just like every time he was tired and wanted to drop her off. He put the car in reverse and started driving north towards her home.

She hated the winter. Hated it. She hated him. She hated him for all the times he made her wait. She hated him because she still felt like she wasn’t a priority to him, like this breakup was inconvenient. She hated him because he never noticed any of this. She hated the fact that she was sad last winter and he didn’t notice. She hated that she had to tell him months later. She hated him because he never made her feel like only his for more than an hour. He had never made her feel secure.

He pulled into her driveway, and she still sat there. Waiting. About three months into their relationship he told her he hated long goodbyes. This was after she kissed him for the fifteenth time. She said sorry and walked with shame pocketed in her heart. It would manifest itself in her and become one insecurity she had in their relationship; the insecurity of annoyance.

“You need to leave. I can’t do this,” He looked at her. He hit his knee and the steering wheel. Yet, she was still waiting.

“Are you okay to drive?” She was stalling. He nodded his head, they kissed, she left. He pulled out quickly, and she walked to her door slowly. This drop off reminded her of other dates. One, in the first month of their relationship, had been spent in his car making out. He was prone to getting hot quickly and told her he should probably drop her off if he was getting sick. She said okay, and sat quietly on the ride home, not really knowing what to say. When they got there he apologized for being “that guy.” She said it was okay and she hoped he felt better. The next morning she texted him asking if he felt better. He replied back yes, and that he was out skiing all day. She had sat on her bed looking at the text. She thought that they would have hung out that day, but it seemed like he didn’t want that. This would create another insecurity inside of her; the insecurity of him never actually enjoying her.

Throughout their relationship he had always been “that guy.” Even, when he didn’t want to be. He kept his ski world separate from her. His best friend was in that world, along with his other friends, and most of his days were spent in that atmosphere. And, she never got a glimpse of it. This made her feel like a dirty, embarrassing secret. She was mad at herself for never yelling at him because of it.

She looked up at the stars, hoping to find something in them. Maybe an answer to why she let herself become like that. She was hoping they would tell her what to do next. Because, everyone romantic writer acts like the stars have all the answers in them, but she just wanted to scream at them.

She walked inside to her parents, allowing herself to cry. Allowing her body to feel amounts of pain that she hadn’t felt in years. Allowing herself to finally accept the expiration date.