Page 7 of Not My Friend
“Thanks for telling me,” I said, walking past her towards the toilets.
Gina grabbed my arm, and I hissed in a breath as little tingles of electricity traveled up my arm from the place where she touched me. It had always been like this with us. From the first time we’d touched, the passion was explosive. But you needed more than passion to sustain a relationship. I’d learned that the hard way.
“Are you… uh, are you dating anyone now?”
I whipped my head around to give her a piece of my mind, but I could tell by the horrified look on her face that it had been an unintentional slip.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ask that. Don’t answer that, it’s none of my business.”
She was still holding my arm, and I wondered if she even realized it.
“What I meant to say is that I know I can never undo what happened, but I’d love it if we could be friends again.”
I gave her an incredulous look. Was she crazy? Or was she just saying that to smooth things over?
“You were not my friend then, not really, and you won’t be my friend now. Too much has happened and too much time has passed. Besides, I have plenty of friends.”
I didn’t add that it was easier to have friends without a jealous and clingy girlfriend in my life.
She winced, then schooled her expression into something more neutral.
“Of course, I’m sorry again, I didn’t mean to make things weird,” she said. “I know it’s no excuse but seeing you again after all this time has me a little bit off kilter. I’ll just get out of here and let you, uh, do whatever you came in here to do.”
I couldn’t help but notice the way she took responsibility for her words right away instead of trying to guilt me into thinking I was being mean. It was a big change. Old Gina would have a meltdown if she was called out this way then worked hard to make it my fault somehow. New Gina took it like an adult.
Then again, her entire demeanor was different now. She looked like the woman I’d dated but her behavior and attitude were not the same. Not that I cared. I was here to do an audit, not chat with my ex-girlfriend in the ladies room.
“Yeah, I’d like to pee now if you don’t mind.” I kept my voice cold and neutral.
Gina let go of my arm and I immediately felt the loss.
“Of course, I won’t bother you again. See you later.”
I stood there staring at the door for several long minutes before I roused myself to go into one of the stalls. As soon as I sat down, I took my head in my hands, my heart pounding furiously.
For the last three years, whenever I thought of Gina, I’d imagined her apologizing. Daydreamed about her realizing that she was wrong and that she’d made a terrible mistake. I’d thought it would feel good to be vindicated. To know that Gina understood the magnitude of what she’d done. How she’d ripped my heart out of my chest and ruined our chance for happily ever after.
But instead I felt… sad. There was no joy in learning that I’d been right.
Seeing her the last two days had been a unique form of torture. She’d been beautiful back when we were together, but now that she was more confident, more sure of herself, she was stunning. This job had been good for her, and so had the therapy I guess, because the Gina who presented about outcomes and logic models and challenged us about taking up her client’s time for interviews was a totally different person than the Gina who’d worn her vulnerability like a shield.
When we were together I’d fancied myself as her protector. She always seemed almost delicate. I’d spent a lot of time trying to build her up, help her be more self-confident. She’d been raised in a household with an alcoholic father who turned abusive when he was drunk, and a mother who criticized her all the time.I understood why she’d grown up to be insecure and starved for affection, and I even understood why she’d felt compelled to push me away when she thought things had gone wrong.
But that didn’t excuse any of it.
The night she decided I was cheating on her, she somehow saw me through the window of a restaurant eating dinner with my cousin, Heidi. My cousin had unexpectedly come to town and invited me to meet with her and catch up, a last minute kind of thing. Since Gina had a work event that night, I didn’t mention that I had plans because she was already gone and I figured I’d be home before she got back. I still didn’t know how she happened to walk by the restaurant while I was with Heidi. It wasn’t on her way home from work or anything.
When I got back from dinner she was throwing my clothes out the window, onto the grass. There was no talking to her, not when she was screaming at me about being a cheater, so I’d gathered up my stuff, loaded it into the car, and went to stay with my mother and stepfather for a while. I could still feel the humiliation of the neighbors watching me scramble to pick up my belongings, the weighted stare of their judgement thinking that Gina was telling the truth.
She’d been a good victim. Very convincing.
Spending the next three months living in my childhood bedroom with my mother hovering over me anxiously, I went through all the stages of grief. But I’d eventually recovered from what happened. I’d moved on.
I often wondered if she’d come to her senses and realize how much she’d lost by pushing me away. If she’d ever tried to contact me I wasn’t aware of it. I’d blocked her number and her email address the same day she kicked me out and blocked her on every social media platform too. I’d refused to let any of our mutual friends mention her, and resisted the urge to look her up online, even at my weakest moments.
I found a new apartment, changed jobs, made new friends, and dated a few women. Seattle was chock full of lesbians, but somehow none of them affected me like Gina. I told myself that I just hadn’t found the right woman yet, but sitting across the table from her in the drab conference room here I’d been hit with the truth – the problem was that none of those other women had been Gina.
But no matter how much she’d apparently changed over the past three years, no matter how much my heart sped up when she touched me, there was no way I was going to do anything other than finish my audit and move on with my life. A life that wouldn’t include Gina Hamilton.
