Angry Confession #2: Battle of the Exes

The doorbell rang. The barely audible sounds that filled my living room died down with a somewhat defeated sigh from my… friend or lover? I can’t make out the line. It has become blurry, and my eyes already hurt from all the squinting.

As I stood up to get the door, she lifted her eyes from the floor to meet my own. Her amber stare was outlined with disappointment caused by the interruption.

After a consenting nod from her, I walked barefoot to the door, passing by the cluttered mahogany desk where pictures of us were spread. Sinister grins and wild hair and glistening bottles and fuck you’s captured in celluloid.

“Brian. What are you doing here?” I said cautiously after I was greeted with the sight of my ex-boyfriend at the door. His hands were tucked behind him as if he was hiding something.

He gave me an economical smile, if it was a smile at all. He used to frown at me and grab my waist and kiss me roughly as his trademark hello. He wasn’t allowed to do that now. Apparently, he thought the usual frowning wasn’t allowed too. At least, not when he was still trying to make amends with me.

“Alice. Can I pick you up after your Accounting class? I’ll take you to Azzuro.” He cocked a brow on the last word. He wanted to take me to the restaurant where we had our second date. If this didn’t tell you he was confident, then his upright stance added with the graffiti of tattoos on his arms and chest exposed by his vneck tee was proof enough.

“Sure. You can join me and Ashley, but we’re lunching at Global,” That was Ashley’s favourite place, I wanted to say, but I never had the chance to speak. Ashley came up behind me and I could feel her glaring even though I didn’t turn around.

Brian’s non-smile twisted into a sneer. “Perhaps another time then, when that dyke isn’t around.”

I swear I had heard myself protest, “Brian!” but I was suddenly out of the picture.

“Tangina. I can’t believe you still have the balls to come here!”

“Tumahimik ka nga, pwede ba? I’m talking to Alice, not you. Dyke.”

“Fuck you!”

“No thanks, bitch. Not even if I was desperate!”

“Bullshit. You fucked Alice and screamed it to the world!”

“Siyempre, girlfriend ko siya noon, tinga! Just admit you’re pissed that she isn’t a lesbian anymore!”

“You ignorant arse! Forgot already why she left you?”

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t because of you of all people!”

“Shut up!” I burst into their scene and yelled. “Just shut up, both of you! Why the fuck do you keep doing this to me?!”

I grabbed my shoes, bag, and car keys and sprinted out the door. It was the third time this week that they fought over a petty little reason.

In the corner of my eye a blue rose was clutched tightly in Brian’s left hand. My favourite flower. In the millisecond that I blinked I could imagine the tattoo of a blue rose on his chest, right above where his heart lay. I swallowed down a sob.

“Alice!” It was Ashley.

I ignored her. I glared at the floor as I walked, still barefoot, trying to block out the image of her eyes cast down before they met my own. I could feel their gaze on my neck, making me shiver. It renewed my distress as I pressed the call button on the elevator. How many times do they have to fight? How many times do I have to tell them that I want to keep them both? If they truly cared for me, they should have followed my simple request for a truce. My legs were shaking with rage as I slipped on my Lanvins. It was the only piece of comfort I had so far today; wash day.

The mirrored walls of the elevator. How I hate this place. THIS IS WHO YOU ARE TO THE WORLD, it seemed to scream. My white top was creased at odd places, my jeans still unbuttoned. My face flushed, my lips pressed to a thin line. I wish someone would tell me what the hell was so attractive about this image enough to be fighting over it.

I buttoned my jeans and straightened my top. Then I rummaged my bag for my phone and call blocked Ashley and Brian after sending them both the same message:

“I’ve moved on. Have you?”