Page 28 of Unexpected Boyfriends

We need to talk

But do we really? What’s the point? Explanations? Will it help me move on or will it just break my heart over again? I’m not sure I want to risk that, it’s bad enough as it is. And I'm embarrassed. I feel like such a fool. I’m unsure how to respond. Yes? No? Should I give him some of his own medicine back and ghost him?

In the end, I settle for this:I’m not sure that’s necessary. Or advisable

Please

It’s hard to refuse him. Iwantto see him, of course. I do. But I’m afraid I’ll end up hurting even more than I do now. Or maybe I’ll get some answers, which is better than being dumped and not understanding why. Although I think I already know why. Pretty sure I saw the reason holding his hand.

I really need to see you. Please

I’m not sure what pulls me over the line, but after five or more minutes oscillating between wanting to say yes and thinking it’s a bad idea, I finally type a reply.

Ok. When?

The answer comes back immediately.

Now? I can pick you up

I was just going to bed

Please. It won’t take long

I sigh, but then I decide it’s better to get this out of the way now rather than stew on it all night, wondering what it is that so desperately has to be said.

Ok

Thx. Be there in 10

I toss the phone down and wonder what I’ve just got myself into, and how much more I can hurt. But hey, what's a few minutes more?

I reluctantly pull my shorts back on, slip on my shoes and grab a hoodie. I knock on my grandparents’ door and let them know I’m going out for a few minutes. Before I have time to rethink my decision, my phone buzzes again.

I’m outside.

I take a deep breath to steady myself before I exit the house, pulling the door gently closed behind me. Axel’s car is waiting in the driveway, and I open the door and slide in. I can't bring myself to look at him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I reply in as neutral a tone as I can manage. My heart is pounding and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I fiddle with my seatbelt and then stare directly out the windscreen as I ask him, “Where are we going?”

“To our beach,” he replies.

The ‘our’ hurts. We don’t have a beach anymore. It’s just another beach along the east coast of Australia. Anyone’s beach. I swipe at a bit of moisture at the corner of my eye. I’m feeling like a kid again, a hurt kid that can’t control his emotions, and I hate it.

We sit in silence as he drives. Neither of us wants to make small talk. How could we make small talk when there is this big thing between us? For once, the silence between us isnotcomfortable. I lean against the door and stare out the window into thedarkness, biting my lip for strength. Now I'm wondering why the fuck I agreed to this.

It takes a silent forever to reach the winding road down to the beach, the hulking shapes of the trees slash the dark as we take the bends, but eventually we crunch to a stop in the empty carpark behind the tree-lined beach. I feel sad just seeing this place again, and my stomach tenses as my anxiety ratchets up a notch. What can there possibly be left that needs to be said? And why here? This place has memories that I'd like to keep untarnished. Couldn’t we have said it back in the driveway?

At this hour the Norfolk pines are dark and mysterious. Beyond them, the sand glows eerily, and the white of the breaking waves catches the moonlight. It’s like a monochrome photo, a little unearthly and a little surreal. Like a sad momento of a long distant past.

The sound of the engine dies as Axel turns the key, and we’re left with the haunting crash of the waves as they run to the shore, and the mournful whisper of the wind slipping through the pines. Higher up clouds scurryacross the sky, occasionally breaking open to allow a glimpse of the half moon.

We sit there in silence for a beat, then Axel speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

I don’t say anything. What is there to say?

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