Broken

Broken

It was an ache like she had never felt before, a tightening in her stomach and a heaviness in her chest.
 She stumbled as she stepped up on the raised sidewalk and she reached out for the door handle, determined not to let him see her fall.   Keeping her back to him, she tried to stop the hot tears falling from her eyes, but more flowed as her throat constricted.  She leaned against the door, afraid that if she didn’t, she would surely fall, and everyone would know that she wasn’t strong enough.  Kellie who had been a single mom for years without the aid of a husband or boyfriend, Kellie who had always managed to find a way to keep a roof over the heads of herself and her son, kept the insurance up, put food on the table and worked until she nearly dropped from exhaustion; she wasn’t strong enough to handle a broken heart.
A strangled sob escaped her, and she fumbled in her pocket for her keys, desperate to get inside the building and go back to work, to grab a hold of something familiar and bury herself in the mundane tasks of her job.  She glanced behind her, and the parking lot was empty.  He was gone.  He had come long enough to tell her they would never be together, that she had to move on and not allow his walking away to stop her from finding happiness.  Kellie felt a new rush of tears fall down her cheeks.  He didn’t understand at all.  

It took twelve years for her to dare to try again.  She had avoided all relationships and thrown herself into raising her son and jumping back into the world of dating again had been a test of her trust and her willingness to allow herself to love again.  He had simply just stopped wanting to be with her and she knew deep down that she just wasn’t good enough, too much time had gone by, and she was never going to find someone who could truly love her.  She had her chance with her marriage, and it had blown up in her face.  It was foolish for her to believe that anyone would want her now.  Twenty pounds heavier, set in her independent ways and hesitant to trust again.  She was ruined for relationships and this one was wise enough to sense it.
Kellie forced the door open and staggered into the bathroom, locking the door behind her and wrenching the cold water on full blast. She braced her arms on either side of the sink and stared at her reflection.  She looked horrible with red eyes, swollen and still shiny with tears, makeup long gone. She took several deep breaths and leaned down to splash cold water on her face, but it wasn’t enough. Kellie choked on tears, pressing her wet hands against her hot cheeks and wanting nothing more than to curl up in a corner and weep until there was nothing left inside.   
She grabbed some paper towels and wiped furiously at her face, willing herself to stop crying and bury the pain deep.  She knew her co-workers would take one look and know, despite her efforts to hide it.    She wasn’t loveable, she couldn’t hold on to a man… and they would all know it.  Her heart lurched again, and she shut off the water, blinking several times. 

She stumbled back out to her desk, avoiding the quick glances of her two co-workers, and plopped down in her chair.  She stared unseeing at her computer screen, the email screen layout blurring and unreadable.  She blinked several times to regain her focus and grabbed the mouse. Clicking on the emails, trying to remember what it was she was working on before her world fell apart, she heard his voice in her head again, the scene playing over and over again.  She envisioned the way she wanted to just pull him to her and kiss him and make him stop and see what he was walking away from.  The desire to make him choose her. The disbelief in hearing his words of rejection.  She felt stupid and betrayed.

She tried to stifle the burst of emotion that bubbled up inside her and she dropped her head down on her arms and keyboard, weeping quietly, her heart painfully trying to burst in her chest. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t look up, afraid that whoever it was, they would look at her with sympathy and worry and she didn’t want that, she just wanted to be somewhere else… anywhere but here where her world had just crashed down around her.  

All around her it had become silent, the clicking of keys on the keyboards had ceased and Kellie knew everyone was staring.  They knew.  They all knew she was weak and stupid for falling for someone who was never going to love her.  She had been used and thrown away with an It’s not you, it’s me” kind of excuse.  She was no better than she was when her marriage fell apart. She was still making stupid decisions and it was obvious to everyone that she was foolish to even try again.    She was collateral damage in a war she hadn’t chosen to fight, an insignificant loss in the grand scheme of things.   Not important enough to fight for.
Mustering up a strength she didn’t feel, Kellie, straightened up and wiped at her eyes, sniffling and reaching for an offered tissue, “I’m fine, guys, really… I’m fine.”  But she wasn’t fine.  

He didn’t want her.  She wasn’t good enough. She was just a fling; he was done with it, and she was left alone. Again. Poor little Kellie, all alone and unable to hold on to anyone because she was just stupid when it came to love and trust.  Although this pain was quick and precise, it hurt worse than that of her failed marriage.   This time she could feel her heart breaking.
Somehow, she got through the rest of the morning.  Quietly answering her emails and trying to work on projects that were pending.  At lunch she went out to her car and just sat there in the parking lot, staring out the windshield and smoking cigarettes, her appetite gone.  The afternoon dragged by her tears less frequent now as the reality began to sink in.  She had no idea what she said to her friends that had emailed, but she knew it wasn’t the truth. Probably something about being too busy to answer, swamped with projects.  She didn’t want to admit to them that she had made another mistake, that she had not learned her lesson when it came to men.
Finally, five o’clock came around and she drove home, no radio on, just the hum of the tires and the sound of the wind rushing around the car.  At home she went through the motions of feeding the dog and the cats, then she made herself some hot tea and sat down in front of her computer, feeling the silence of the house press down all around her.   His things were still in a pile in her living room, which meant he would have to come get it.
She wanted to throw it all out on the lawn and scream in anguish and heart break.  Instead, she put the computer away and turned on the tv but didn’t really watch it, her eyes avoiding the pile of his belongings.  

  She allowed her tears to flow unchecked and she stared unseeing at the television screen, replaying the last three months in her head, wondering where exactly she had gone wrong.  She clung to her cell phone, watching it, willing it to ring and display the name “My guy”, anticipating his voice telling her he was wrong, that she was too important for him to just walk away from.   But the phone remained stubbornly silent, and the hour grew late.
Kellie unwrapped herself from the couch and stumbled into the bathroom for her shower.  She let the hot water pour over her and a weakness came over her as a fresh round of crying racked her body. She stayed like that until the water cooled and then she got out, wrapping herself in a towel.  She looked at herself in the mirror and a barrage of negative, self-depreciating thoughts screamed in her head.  “You’re fat! You’re too loud, too demanding! It’s no wonder he wanted out!”   

Closing her eyes, Kellie dried herself off, hating the body she rubbed the towel over, and quickly threw an oversized t-shirt on to hide the flaws.  
She laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling willing herself to think of something else.  The image of her ex-husband came to mind and her thoughts went over every detail of their relationship.
Over the years she had thought less and less of it, distancing herself from her failure, but tonight she was giving herself a pass and allowing herself to remember.  
She never fought back.  That was the worst part.  The destruction of her marriage and her trust.  She feared that if she confronted him, it would confirm her deepest fears, not that she would end up alone, but that she wasn’t worthy enough to deserve his love and loyalty.   She accepted the single red rose he brought each time, pretending that it was a symbol of his love for her rather than a sign of his infidelity.  She cared for their child, cleaned the house and did the shopping.  She accepted his excuses of working late, tolerated the marathon video gaming and football watching that took precedence over family outings and looked the other way as he ingested the whiskey like it was water.  She quietly listened to his ravings about people doing him wrong and stood by helpless and embarrassed when he picked fights with unsuspecting strangers who had done nothing more than glance at him as he walked by.  It was better that way, easier to live if she just took it all and absorbed it with no argument. She realized he would never be the person she had hoped him to be.  When he talked of a future together, she felt dread.  When he was excited about a new idea to move ahead, she would cringe inwardly and calculate how much she would have to take on in order for him to chase that hopeless venture. His touch brought revulsion and she avoided contact as much as possible, as much that wouldn’t make him suspicious. She found herself relishing the times when he wasn’t around and feeling resentful when he was there.  She kept it all inside, harboring it like a dirty secret.
She had buried her pain so deep that that it began to fester and grow like an invasive weed, curling around her heart and choking every last piece of compassion and love out of it.  She cried alone where no one could see her, and she silently mourned the death of the love she once had for him.  Then she put away her dreams of a good life in a successful marriage and created a new one.  The dream of being free.
All she wanted was to be free of the pain, free from the ache that consumed her and hold her hostage like bars in a prison.  That pain had been dulled and easier to absorb.   The pain of “My Guy” was excruciating.  It wrapped around her scarred heart and squeezed forcefully, it lashed open wounds she thought long healed and no amount of crying or wishing or anything else was going to erase that hurt.    
Kellie finally fell asleep, exhausted from the day, praying that when she woke it would have all been just a bad dream.  She woke with a migraine.  Wincing against the pain, she stumbled to the kitchen and found the ibuprofen.  She heated a cup of day-old coffee in the microwave and swallowed four pills down.  Closing her eyes, she dropped into the only chair in the living room and closed her eyes against the throbbing pain.  The previous day’s events began running through her mind and a lump formed in her throat.  She swallowed quickly but it was not use, fresh tears pricked her eyes and the ache in her heart called out.
With an effort, she forced herself up and dressed for work.  She ran a brush through her tangled hair, glancing in the mirror long enough to silently remind herself that she was worthless.  She stared at her phone for a moment, hoping against hope that he had texted or called.  He had not.
She shoved the phone in her pocket and grabbed her keys, taking deep breaths as she stepped out and saw that it was a pretty October morning.  The sun showed bright in the eastern sky, orange leaves rustled in the near naked tree tops and birds called out their morning song.  It was a contradiction to the darkness inside her and Kellie climbed in her car, feeling like the world too had turned a blind eye to her pain.   The only thing different was her, everything else was moving forward like her broken heart was an insignificant detail in the grand scheme of things.   Was it?   Kellie swallowed the lump of self-pity that formed in her throat and let out a cleansing breath.   She could not keep crying.   He made his choice and she needed to move on.   She knew that, but her heart was still stunned by the rejection, and she was taking this personally.   It was if “My Guy” had walked up to her and slapped her across the face and then told her he did it to protect her, and she would be better off.   Fresh tears stung her eyes at that thought and Kellie cleared her throat and started the car.  “No… no, you won’t have this power over me.”  she muttered weakly, not believing her own words, “I am better than this, I was fine before you came along.”  the last word came out in a stuttered gasp and Kellie glared furiously at herself in the mirror.  “STOP IT!!”   Her words rang out and she slammed her car door closed.   This was not going to break her!   She backed out of her parking spot and turned onto the street.  Her eyes glanced at her still silent phone, and she shook her head.  It wouldn’t break her, but she would need some time. 

A Random Thought Gone Wild

A Random Thought Gone Wild

The park was empty aside from a few joggers and a couple of moms watching their little ones play on the jungle gym.  I dropped the Red Rhonda’s bag on the picnic table and sat down, my belly pushing up hard against the table and half of my butt hanging off the back of the bench.   It wasn’t super comfortable, but it was far better than squeezing into one of those tiny booth seats at any restaurant. 

I started pulling out the cheeseburger and fries, already salivating in anticipation of the juicy goodness that awaited me.   Red Rhonda’s made the best burgers around, the closest thing to a roadside diner tucked neatly in the suburban playland of Denver.

I noticed a woman striding towards me like she was on a mission.   Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she wore a form fitting black t-shirt and a pair of jeans.  She also looked like an older, thinner version of myself. 

I watched her with mild curiosity from behind mirrored sunglasses as I bit into the burger. An explosion of flavor spread throughout my mouth, charred meat, tomatoes, pickles and an hint of mustard.  I literally groaned in pleasure.  As I plucked a still-warm crinkle fry from its container, I notice the woman was striding with determined steps in my direction.  I glanced around behind me, no one else was there. I braced myself for the inevitable interaction of two strangers crossing paths hoping she would pass me by, oblivious to the fat girl sitting by herself at a picnic bench, pigging out on fast food. No such luck.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” She demanded coming to a halt in front of the table her hands waving up in the air.  My family is full of hand-talkers and people have joked that if you tied our hands we wouldn’t be able to speak, however, that was not what I was thinking as I tried to desperately swallow the chunk of burger.

“WmmmFth?  Which roughly translated to “I’m sorry, what are you speaking of?” 

The woman, who looks uncannily like myself, as older and thinner (much thinner) scowled at me and gestured to the Red Rhonda’s bag, “That is going to be your downfall!  You can’t eat that stuff, it’s so horribly bad for you!”

Great, a total stranger thinks I’m fat and feels it necessary to lecture me.  “Fuck off, it’s none of your business what I do.” 

Okay, that’s not what I said, I’m way too much of a chicken to actually say the words I’m thinking.  I just looked down at the bitten burger, the taste of charred hamburger still lingering in my mouth, “I know, but for one day I just wanted to not think about calories and my weight, I’m sorry.”  I was apologizing to a total stranger.  God, I really am a loser.

My older doppelganger rolled her eyes, “Jesus Christ, was I always so damn pathetic?”  She slipped onto the bench so that she was facing me.  It was like looking into a mirror, same eyes, same big German nose, that little scar on my chin from a sledding accident.  It was also like looking at relative that had a striking resemblance, but something was just a bit off keeping them from being a twin.  She looked confident and secure, no trace of all the shit she/I had been dragged through before we hit thirty, and much healthier.

           “Who are you?” I heard myself ask as I reached for another crinkle fry. It was unnerving how much she resembled me.  The scar was the kicker. How could she have the exact same scar as me?

           She sighed and shook her head, “You won’t believe me, but I’m you.   Fifty years from now.”

           I laughed.   It was an instinctive response.  I nearly choked on the crinkle fry and had to take a long drink of my soda to wash it down before I could answer her ridiculous claim, “You would have to be like 80 years old, and trust me, you’re not that old.”  I chuckled again.  “I agree we sort of look alike, but no way.  Nice try though.”

She leaned forward on her elbows and used her just-listen-and-shut-voice, the same one I always used when people weren’t listening to me and hearing what I had to say.  It was rather weird to hear it, did I sound like that?  

“I don’t have time to convince you, Janna-Leigh.  Just listen to me.  You were right, you were so right its going to change the way America eats.”  

“Right about what?” I searched my mind trying to grasp what obscure opinion I might have spouted that just happened to be spot on.

“The food.   Yes, it makes you fat, but the chemicals, you nailed it! “She threw up her hands for emphasis, “The preservatives, girl, you were right about them! You wrote about it in your blog, how you were certain the long-term effect of decades of food preservatives were responsible for the increase of autism and ADHD issues.”

          Cool, I was right.  I frowned, “Wait, and how are you here?  Time travel, really? “

         “Technology surges forward super-fast in a few years, a ton of things changed.” She answered impatiently, waving her hands as if to get rid of that train of thought,   “Now listen to me…   it was that article that got the attention of some researchers and conspiracy theorists.  They investigated and stumbled upon something much worse than autism.”  She leaned forward so much I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes of brown.

“But what about…”  I was hearing what she was saying, but it was farfetched and something out of a sci-fi novel.  The fact that my little online blog caught the attention of anyone, but my close circle of friends was skeptical, the thought of the content being anything worth the attention of researchers was unbelievable.

“Girl, there’s no time, I must get you to safety.  It was you that started it all.  Now people want to stop you.”

“Oh…. MY…. God.”  I said it slowly so she would know I was being sarcastic, “Is a killer android coming here to terminate me?”  Yep, certainly a joke being played on me referencing a popular movie culture.

Anger flared up in her eyes and she grabbed my chin in a painful squeeze, “They found a chemical in there, one that makes some people go crazy.  All those mass shootings?  Those are the people that reacted badly to the chemical… it triggers the aggression in them.”

I jerked my head out of her grasp, “Isn’t there some kind of law of time travel that you’re not supposed to touch me?” I rubbed my chin and glowered at her. 

She opened her mouth to speak but the sound of something solid clunking against wood caused her to jump up and yell, “Get down!”

Dumbfounded, I stared at the newly form pits in the picnic table.  There were no bullets.   I said as much.

“You’re an idiot!” She hissed and pushed me hard in the chest. I fell ungracefully backwards and landed with a grunt, my legs caught up on the bench and the rest of me lying on the grass. My eyes closed instinctively, and I let out strangled groan as I mentally assessed any damages.  Aside from a sore ass and raw elbows, everything felt normal. 

I opened my eyes and let out a chuckle, realizing I had let my imagination run away with me again.  I always did have a way with daydreaming and getting caught up with my musings.  It wasn’t the first time I had fallen from a bench or chair because of it. 

I turned my head.    

My doppelganger was squatting in the grass, watching me, a knowing smile on her face.

“Welcome to the year 2078.”