Anything I could say would make him feel I was convincing him otherwise, how could I tell him that you can stack a relationship with the perfection of initial positives, similarities in age, socio-economics, geography, and all of it, could be swept away like meaningless driftwood under the tide of life? That without the bond of love, the inexplicable third thing that comes to life between two people who recognize each one as The Other, the will to make something last for the right reasons can't even be. My decision is split second, even while I try to grope for words. I am shocked at how sharp the pain of already missing him is coming at me, like the threatening glint of a knife shining in the light. A menacing cut is coming.
I close my eyes and hear myself sounding diffused and pained, "But that was why I was honest with you..I'd hoped you knowing the truth would stop you from pursuing it if this is how you felt. Why," I clear my throat but sound faint regardless, "Why did you pursue me?"
I didn't agree with him. I didn't want it to end, but it was undeniable that as half of the relationship, he'd need to be fully convinced to make it work. We'd gone this far because after all my skepticism, and his antics, something had taken over. I had the life experience to recognize it, he didn't.
"No, no," I say politely, "You must have thought about this, and if that's truly how you feel, then I have to respect it. I can't agree with you, there are no guarantees but anything I say will just seem.. like I'm not listening to you." I swallow quietly and know it will be a matter of moments before I lose my composure completely. At which point, he might just stay out of kindness, or worse, pity. "Look, X, I'm not going to give you a hard time over this, you were brave enough and honest enough to tell me, and I need to listen. So..so, I'm going to go now. Because I think you want me to. To go. I'm just glad you could tell me this."
"Ok," Mr. X replies, "what are you up to now?" He wants to know? I say something vague and non-committal. "Ok...then, I guess, it was great. Stay funky, ok?" he says in an attempt to lighten things up.
My temper fires up, was this the pallative statement to end things with? I knew he needed to console himself somehow, but even if I could give him all sorts of things, I couldn't give him this. "Don't say that," I chastise, my voice thin and gentle with hurt and anger, "When you say that, it makes less of everything. When it wasn't. You know that. You were there with me. I'm going now, you've asked me to. I'll say instead, have a really good life. Sincerely. I'll miss you. But I really wish you all the best. Goodbye X."
There is a dead silence at the end of the line, and when he finally speaks, Mr. X stutters. "A good life?," he repeats dumbly. "Right...right. You too, Angel. I'll miss you too. Ok." And the first tear falls as soon I finally hear that click.