Page 2 of Letting it Ride

She doesn’t want to have a kid with someone like me, someone with my past. And that tells me everything I need to know. Did we ever even have a chance?

I shake my head in disgust, doing my best to focus on her betrayal, because I can’t process the rest of it right now. “What do you want me to say, Ellie? You’re having someone else’s baby.” I wave my hand dismissively.

I wish I had something I could throw against the wall, some outlet for the rage that’s boiling up inside me.

She flinches, even though she knows damn well I’d never physically hurt her. Still, it cuts deep all the same. “I just… I don’t want this to end badly,” she whispers.

I don’t even know how to respond to that.Shedoesn’t want this to end badly? Then maybe she should have kept her damn legs shut. Or used a condom. Or maybe she could have just called it quits—again, but for good this time—without sharing all the sordid details. Maybe she should have been honest months ago about her true feelings toward me.

But have I been honest with her? Or myself? Ellie and I were a good match, at least on paper. But was I everin lovewith her?

I still want to hit some inanimate object or throwsomething against a wall. I want to destroy something, break it apart the way it feels like I’m breaking inside. Maybe that goddamn potted plant that Ellie brought over here a year ago. It keeps trying to die despite everything I’ve done to keep the stupid thing alive. As I look over to where it sits in the corner, another dead leaf floats to the hardwood floor.

I’m so fucking tired. I was raised to understand that relationships are work. That you have to put effort in to keep things going well. And that’s what I’ve been doing with Ellie, almost since the day we met. Every time we break up and get back together, I remind myself that it just takes work. To not give up.

I’ve spent so long working on this relationship, and for what? I worked to move on from my past, too, and it gets thrown in my face.

You know what? I’m done with putting effort into things.

I force my fisted hands to relax and let out a long sigh. “I have nothing else to say, Ellie. Congratulations, I guess. Mom-to-be. How exciting.” My words sound hollow, even to my own ears, but it’s the best I can muster for now.

“I’m sorry, Cam,” she says, her voice cracking, the first sign of genuine emotion she’s shown this whole time. “We were on a break. And I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what, Ellie?” I snap. My growing anger has my voice coming out sharper than I mean to, but any chance of peaceful acceptance is now gone. “Fuck another guy? Or get pregnant? Or did you just not mean to do something that meant letting me off your little hook?”

“I…” she trails off, unable to meet my eyes again, and that’s when I know that my last line hit a sore spot.

I’ve been her fallback plan. That’s all I was. I’m the one putting in effort to make this work, and I’ve always been the one she just comes running back to because it’s easy. I was never the one she saw a future with.

Maybe not everyone gets a happy ending. Maybe some of us don’t deserve one.

“Get out, Ellie.” I stalk across the living room to the apartment door and yank it open, my jaw so tight I’m worried I might crack a molar. It would hurt less than Ellie’s betrayal, at any rate.

Ellie hesitates, but she finally shuffles toward the door and steps out. She turns and looks up at me. “I really am sorry, Cam,” she whispers. “But it was… I tried to get past it, but I…” She gestures at me, as if I didn’t already know exactly what she was saying.

She turns away just as I slam the door, shutting her out of my apartment and my life.

I’m so done. With dating, with love, with all of it.

I look over to the corner where that stupid Ficus plant is sitting. Agatha. Yeah, we named the plant. It seemed cute at the time.

But Agatha needs to go. I kick it with my bare foot as I walk by, swearing under my breath when my action just results in more leaves drifting to the floor to join their fallen brethren and a throbbing pain in my foot. I put so much effort into keeping this stupid thing alive for Ellie, trying to prove I could be a responsible plant owner, that I’m a nurturer or some such bullshit.

All that fucking effort wasted, on both Ellie and the plant. And what’s the end result? One is dead, and the other may as well be, to me at least. All that effort, everything I did for her, and she can’t overlookonething in my past.

I stomp into the kitchen and dig a black garbage bag out from the cabinet under the sink, then stalk back toward Agatha and her rotting leaves.

I kick the couch as I pass, just to take out my frustration on something that won’t litter on my floor, wincing at the stabbing pain that results. Now both my feet hurt, and the rest of me doesn’t feel any better.

Serves me right.

This plant is leaving my apartment today. I’ve stressed about keeping this thing alive almost as muchas I’ve stressed about keeping my relationship with Ellie alive.

I take the entire thing and shove it into the garbage bag, or at least I try to, but the stupid plant is too tall. After five minutes of struggle, about eighty percent of the plant is contained in the black plastic, and a smattering of leaves is fanned across the carpet, fallen soldiers in the war against emotions. I grip the top of the garbage bag and haul the entire mess to the front door.

I peek out into the hallway to make sure the coast is clear before I take the bag to the trash chute and shove it down there, where there’s no chance of getting it back.

Fuck you, Agatha.

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