The first thing I did when Darrin told me he was leaving was cry. And then I got mad. And then I bought a dog. I was fed up and done with falling in love with people only to have them abandon me, so I decided I was going to get someone to love who would never leave me. I didn’t tell Darrin, I just went to the pet store and bought him on credit. A little tiny puppy named who I named Lio. Because I was pet sitting a dog for a friend at the time he had to stay at the store a while longer, but he was mine. That next Monday I went into work and my boss handed me an envelope. “What’s this?” I asked, and the answer was “Your Christmas bonus.” “I didn’t know I was getting a Christmas bonus!” Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be the exact amount I had charged for the dog.
When I told Darrin about the puppy he just shrugged. “It’s not like I have any real say in the matter.” And he didn’t. When Darrin’s lease was up the army came and packed his things. Ironically, he needed a place to stay while he finished up his duties, so for his last few weeks in town he moved in with me. I wasn’t there for much of it. We took a family trip to Puerto Rico, and he watched the dog I had bought to replace him.
In the end we called it taking a break, not breaking up. He moved away and I threw myself back into my social life. I called all the old boys. I flirted with my neighbor. But most nights would find me curled up in bed with the phone, talking to Darrin. After maybe three weeks, maybe more, Darrin reached a breaking point. He was in the grocery store trying to buy some bread when a song that we had connected with came on over the speakers. I don’t know where, confused about how as well, just know that these things will never change for us at all. He became so emotionally over whelmed he had to leave the store lest he start crying. He went home and composed a letter. It was a long, long letter. It was three or four pages which he read to me on the phone that night. I only half listened as he went on and on. Meanwhile in my head I was planning on driving somewhere and finding a brick wall into which I could fling myself into repeatedly. I would scream. I would cry, I would rail against a world that was so unfair. Because this man who loved me and whom I loved was breaking up with me. Finally, at long last he stopped talking. I imagined myself hanging up on him. I imagined it being all over, really over. I imagined never seeing him again. I pictured hardening my heart against him. But instead I took a deep shaky breath.
“I wrote something too.” I told him, “Do you want to hear it?” He was hesitant, but he agreed to listen. I was always writing back then, and the night before I had written him a letter. About how much I loved being with him. How I knew he could not promise me forever, but that I would rather have this time with him, and all the goodness of it. I would rather have five or ten years with him than have nothing. To me he was worth it. We were worth it. The risk was worth it, to have what we shared. When I was done we were both silent for a long time. We were both crying, but we were both quiet. Finally I asked him, “Well what do you think?” He said, “I think I should have let you go first.”
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