Continued from Part 6...I checked my voicemail at 9:46pm. In my hysteria I’d not noticed the calls.
The first one said, in relatively sober-sounding voice, “Seriously, Sara. I’m very sad about how this ended up because I actually enjoyed being friends with you but obviously we won’t be friends. I’m so fucking sad. And it’s such a shame. So, you know, live your life. And do whatever it is you do.”
Seventeen minutes apart. My actual friend called while I was again crying.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just don’t understand the voicemail and really need to go to sleep. Thank you for checking in.”
I was in bed by 10pm.
The next morning I woke to find a text message that said, “You suck. I’m really disappointed. Please don’t recontact.”
Then I checked my voicemail.
“Seriously, Sara. What did I do to you? I didn’t do anything to you. It’s so f--ing wrong. It took me quite a while to get myself home. And I didn’t do anything to you. Why would you do that do me? You are a very bad person. You are a bad, bad person. So, live with that.”
At least she made it home alive.
I couldn’t imagine what she thought I did.
It was unfortunate that what she did remember from the night was my admission of often feeling like I wasn’t a very good person, a side effect of religious doctrine, a point my ex also preyed on whenever he was angry.
I thought about that while I inspected my face. The lip cut had become more of a cankersore, the face cut was surprisingly deep, and the jaw was much more tender than it looked, the swelling had come down. It felt like I’d had work done at the dentist, without Novocain.
The Facebook Breakup, Part 8 (the Final part) to be released tomorrow.
Comments