What Lovers Do(6)

“Thanks, it’s uh … pretty heartbreaking.”

Embarrassing. Shameful. Degrading. Disconcerting.

“Are you going to talk about your encounter with the ‘sexy’ pet store guy?”

I toss her a grin over my shoulder just before opening the door to the exam room. “You mean when I verbally vomited on the floor in front of him and rolled around in it before spilling my coffee everywhere and making the most cringe-worthy assumption that he was trying to ask me out on a date when he was only trying to enroll me in a rewards program?”

Nora grimaces.

“No. I don’t think we need to talk about it. But thanks.”





That next afternoon, I arrive home to the pungent smell of sardines in my house. “Jimmy! What did I tell you about eating sardines? Not. In. The. House.”

Cersei greets me with her whole backside wagging as I slip off my heels.

He shuts off the TV and shoves the last bite of saltine cracker and sardine into his mouth. “I’ll have you know, I talked with my mom today,” he mumbles with cracker crumbs flying out of his mouth onto my floor. “She’s doing well. Thanks for asking.”

I frown at his flippant attitude, as if I’m the bad guy.

“She said we need to take the things that are most irritating about each other and work past them. Conditioning of sorts until it no longer feels so irritating. So I’m going to eat sardines in the house until you get used to it, and I’ll try to ignore the way you baby talk to Cersei. Like … she fucking knows who’s the good girl. But if you need to keep asking her, then I’ll learn to ignore it.” He rolls his eyes before standing (more crumbs falling from his lap to my floor) and takes his plate to the kitchen.

“Jimmy…” I rub my temples “…did something happen to you? Have you had a stroke? Did you hit your head?”

He narrows his eyes. “Uh … no. Why?”

“Because you have four days left here. Four. Days. Then you’re out. We don’t need to fix what can’t be fixed. We don’t need to become more tolerant of each other. We need to get the hell away from each other.”

“My mom also said couple’s therapy is a good idea.”

“No! Gah! No! No! No! You aren’t listening to me. I don’t want to be with you. I don’t love you anymore. And it’s not because there is anything wrong with me.”

Cringe.

I might have an addiction to falling in love, and that part is on me.

“Oh …” He crosses his arms over his chest. “So you’re saying it’s me? Something is wrong with me?”

“Yes! Something is wrong with you. But I have no time nor the desire to figure it out. If you want to see a therapist, by all means … go for it. In fact, I encourage it. But I’m done. We are over. Get that through your thick head.”

Jimmy scoffs. “I don’t have insurance or a job. How exactly do you expect me to pay for therapy?”

“Holy shit! So this couple’s therapy … you want me to pay for it? You want me to pay to save a relationship I want nothing to do with? Are you out of your mind? This is what I’m talking about. Who are you? The Jimmy I met online was not stupid. He was smart and charming. He was funny. He used to crack jokes at other people’s ignorance. You are officially the butt of your own jokes.”

He bites his lips together and closes his eyes while sighing. “I looked in the trash … in the bathroom.” He shakes his head. “You’re late. You haven’t started your period. No tampons or wrappers. Are you pregnant? Are we having a baby?” Jimmy sounds pathetically hopeful, like the answer to all relationship issues is a baby.

I keep waiting for someone to jump out of the corner and yell, “Gotcha!” This is a joke. A prank. Any minute he’s going to grin and put an end to it. He’s going to laugh at me while packing his bags. He wants the last laugh. I broke up with him, so he’s making me pay by putting on this act and driving me insane.

Fine.

I’ll accept his win. Bravo, Jimmy. You did it. You drove me to complete insanity. Made me look like a fool, AGAIN. Now get the hell out.

“That’s messed up, Jimmy. Who riffles through the trash looking for tampons? That’s not even something that a married man should do. There are lines in relationships. Lines of decency and personal privacy that should never be crossed.”

“Just answer me. Are you pregnant?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Jimmy. No. I’m not having your baby.”

He nods slowly, his expression wilting into something pathetic and sad—but mostly just pathetic. “Sophie, they repossessed my car today. Did you even notice that? Did you take two goddamn seconds to think about someone besides yourself? You’re preaching about human decency. Well, where’s yours? What kind of monster kicks someone while they’re down? Haven’t you heard the saying that you should never look down on someone unless you’re offering them a helping hand?”

I let him live with me because he needed help. I didn’t break up with him when I wanted to break up because he was in a low spot—he’d lost his job—but Jimmy is living in a chronic state of need. If I wait for him to be in a better place, he will never leave my house.

“Four days, Jimmy. Or I’m calling the police.” I snap my fingers and Cersei follows me to my bedroom, where I change into shorts, a white tank top, and sandals before taking my dog and leaving the house again.