Page 55 of The Roommate Experiment

On Monday night, I stand in front of Olivia’s door, my heart pounding against my ribs. I stretch my neck and shoulders to loosen the tension coiled deep in the muscles.

You can do this, Dylan. Be kind but firm. Direct but not cruel. It’s not her, it’s you.

I repeat the words to myself like a mantra, to erase the memory of how it feels to be left on the outside, the sting of rejection. The thought of putting anyone through that is harrowing, but necessary.

I count to five. One of Olivia’s neighbors walks by, eyeing me curiously.

“You okay, pal?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Then why so nervous? Are you about to propose to the nice lady in 2B? She’s a keeper.”

I take in the bulky guy, wondering if he and Olivia are friends and if he’d beat me if he knew the real reason I’m here. “What? No, I… uh…” My tongue has turned into a wad of cotton in my mouth. Heat creeps up my neck as I fumble for words.

He gives me a mock military salute. “Don’t sweat it, bro. Olivia is the nicest person I know.”

I cringe while waving at him as if his words comforted me. As he passes on, I turn back to the door. Okay, it’s now or never. I raise my fist and knock, my knuckles barely grazing the door before it flies open.

“Dylan.” Olivia flings her arms around my neck, nearly knocking me off balance with the force of her hug. The cloying scent of her floral perfume floods my nose, too sweet and strong.

“Hey, Liv,” I manage, my voice muffled against her shoulder.

“I’m so glad you came.” She pulls back, her amber eyes shimmering. “Can we stay in tonight? I’m still too raw after this weekend.”

“Sure, of course. Whatever you need.” So much for being direct.

She leads me inside, her grip on my hand almost painful. “I’m barely holding myself together after… everything…”

“I’m sorry. Err… How close were you and Theo?”

“I told you, he was my best friend.” She sniffles. “We grew up together; he’s the only one I regretted leaving behind when I moved to New York. And now I’ll never see him again. It’s unbearable.” She fluffs her hands in front of her face. “But Dylan, don’t make me talk about him. It’s too soon.”

I nod, searching for the right words. “I didn’t mean to upset you, only say again how sorry I am for your loss.”

She hugs me. Her damp cheek presses against my collarbone, and guilt tightens around my chest like a vice, unrelenting and sharp. She looks up at me, her eyes glistening. “I’m so grateful to have you, Dylan. You’re the only thing that kept me from falling apart this weekend.”

Her voice quivers, and my resolve to extract myself from her life crumbles. I pat her back, my carefully rehearsed break-up speech evaporating. What kind of person would do this now, to someone in the middle of grieving? Even though I’m making a mess of this, I can’t bring myself to beat her more while she’s already down. To make her doubt her worth. I know how deep inadequacy stabs, and I wouldn’t wish that sense of failure on my worst enemy.

Every word I rehearsed to let her down gently sounds callous. How can I break up with her now? It’d be like clubbing a baby seal on the head. I smile tightly. But I have to try; I’m making things worse by dragging on our relationship when it’s going nowhere.

But as Olivia talks about her grief, my mind wanders to the worst-case scenarios of how this break-up could play out. Considering the dramatic state she was in last Monday, I imagine her sobbing on the floor, smashing picture frames, or throwing them at my head. Or worse, what if she interiorizes the rejection as her fault? I can’t shake the memories of other people’s reactions when I failed them. The anger, the disappointment, how small it left me, and I don’t want Olivia to endure the same.

“…and our trip to the Hamptons next weekend is the only thing I’m looking forward to.”

The silence that follows yanks me back to the present.

My stomach drops. The Hamptons? I’d completely forgotten about that. How can I possibly tell her I have no intention of taking her, that I’ve been meaning to end things with her for days?

She leads me to the couch, and I muster the courage to steer the conversation toward the inevitable. “Listen, Olivia, we need to talk…”

Her head jerks up, eyes wide, her face crumpling like I just told her the world is ending. “Oh no,” she whispers, wringing her hands. “Did I do something? Have I been too much? Too emotional?” Her voice cracks as she folds her arms tightly across her chest. “I knew I was being too needy and now you want nothing to do with me.”

“Liv, stop.” I reach out, resting my hands gently on her shoulders. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

She throws herself at me, hugging me tight. “Oh, thank goodness, for a moment there, I thought you were about to break up with me. I don’t think I could’ve taken it.”

“Liv.” I pull her off me.

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