Concerned more than ever, I nod. “I will. I promise.”
“Shit, I need to smoke again.” He starts rummaging around.
“No, you don’t,” I protest. “How many times do I have to tell you that we don’t find men who smoke attractive?”
FC smirks as he lights up once more. “By we, you mean you.”
I roll my eyes. He may be right, but I don’t have to verbally confirm it. When the health risks don’t work, that’s my go-to tactic. “You have to quit, FC,” I say seriously.
“Just for you, I will, but I can’t say when I’ll do it. That’s the best promise I can give you, Idaline.”
I nod. If that’s the best he can do, I believe him. FC doesn’t lie. Well, I like to believe he doesn’t lie to me. He may not tell me everything about his life, but surely what he does tell me is the truth. Well, most of the time. I think I get white lies sometimes.
“I’m going to try to do better to talk to you, okay? To make sure your breakup goes fine, and if it doesn’t, you call me. I’m not as far away as before. I’ll get in the car and come if you need me to.”
My shoulders slump a bit. I like what I hear, but not completely.
“What is it?” FC asks, clearly able to see that I’m not totally thrilled with what he’s said.
“So, you’ll only meet me if it’s to rescue me?” I try my best to keep my voice light, but I’m afraid FC knows me too well.
“Of course not. Hey, how about this, the next time I can get away, I call you and come down there.”
“Really?” After all these years, he finally wants to meet?
“Yeah. I don’t have a timeline, but you’ll be my next destination, I promise.”
“Okay. I’ll hold you to that. I have to get back to work. We’ll talk soon, right?”
FC nods. “It was good to see you, Idaline.”
“You too. Bye.”
We hang up. I wish I trusted his word. He had me until he said he didn’t have a timeline. That might as well mean we’ll meet anywhere from this year to ten years from now. There’s no reason to dwell on it now, though. I have to get back to work.
While I’ve been through a lot of breakups in my twenty-five years and I’ve been the one to break off many of them, that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to do or lessens my anxiety about doing it. And after hearing the concern in FC’s voice, I’m having serious anxiety over breaking up with Daniel. It doesn’t help that when I walk out of work for the day, I find him leaning against my car.
“Hey, Daniel,” I say with an uneasy smile. I can do this, I remind myself. My head already feels light, my chest hurts, and my heart barrels into my ribcage with every beat, demanding to escape this situation.
“Hey.” He kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in years, earning a whistle from someone walking by. “Surprised?”
“Yes. What are you doing here?”
“I thought we could go out to dinner.”
“Um, well.” My hands tingle, another sign my panic continues to rise. “Can we talk?” I push out, sucking in a deep breath.
Daniel eyes me. “Talk?” He laughs. “You sound like you want to break up with me.”
If I stay silent, he’ll get the hint and I won’t have to say anything at all. He should get the hint fast because I actually can’t do this. All I can hear in my head is what he said to the bartender, which in the moment I shrugged off, but afterward, it began to bother me: Flirt with my girlfriend again and I’ll take you outside and beat you until you’re bloody. And then, he gave me a look.
“You want to break up with me?” he asks incredulously. “Why? Things are going great, Idaline!”
Oh, no. He was supposed to accept this. I suddenly can’t breathe, as if our relationship has a vise-like grip on my throat. This isn’t happening the way I wanted. I grab the sideview mirror, gasping for air.
“Idaline? Are you okay?” Daniel asks with concern.