the next few pages of my story

“You’re welcome.” I heard what I once mistook for sincerity in his voice. Sincerity to him only seemed to last until the words left his mouth. I was always sure he meant them in the moment, but the moment never lasts. I felt like smoking another, but I knew cancer wouldn’t hit me instantaneously and get me out of the conversation. I still was at a loss for words.
“So how have you been?” How had I been? I had spent the better part of the year laying in my bed with the curtains drawn watching the same movies and TV shows over and over, thinking about him and considering ways to end the latter.
“I’ve been fine, you know same old shit.” What did he really care, after all this time? “How about you?” I didn’t want a real answer. The kindest gift he could give me was a lie, to lie and not tell me anything about how great his life was without me in it.
“Good, good. I’ve been working since school let out, not doing a whole lot else.” It wasn’t wrapped beautifully, but it was more than I thought I’d get. Kind of like a birthday present from my mom. “What’ve you been doing with yourself?” Leaving out the bloody details would be my gift to him.
“Working. I’m taking a few community college courses summer semester.” And recently I stopped crying my self to sleep at night because of you. He could always read me then, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to now. He used to try and make me tell him what was wrong, the fifth degree, I hated it, but I loved it at the same time. I didn’t know if he was going to ask or not, or what questions he would choose.
“Are you still with that other guy?” It wasn’t the question I expected. It was easier to answer. I was so used to his questions being probing and badgering.
“I broke it off about a month ago, just wasn’t right anymore.”
“Was it ever right with him?” That was closer to what I was expecting, but why should I explain myself to him when he was asking about the person who looked after the mess he left? I didn’t have enough strength though, I knew as well as he did that I stayed for safety and not for rightness. The tears were creeping up again.
“You asked that question even though you already knew the answer.” He stopped, either because of the red light on 36th Street or just to wipe away a tear running down my cheek.
“You have to know I miss you.”
“The fact that you ignored my letters and blocked my screen name weren’t exactly indications of that.” I was losing my fear and my words were running away.
“I’m sorry,” there was that ‘sincerity’ again, “You know I can’t always express it, the distance, I couldn’t talk to you without hurting you more.” I had heard this before, a year ago because of goodbyes six months before that. Somehow he thought abandonment was a solution, but who was I to judge? I’d been running from things long before I knew him.
“Look you’re give me that line before, I can’t let you do it again, I can’t takle another round. I barely survived the last one.” So much for not being able to talk. “You said you loved me and a month later you tore my heart out. Now I have to meet Amy.” I started walking, my real New York walk breaking the bubble and heading full speed towards Starbucks. I didn’t look back, I figured he wouldn’t follow me, his lack of effort in the past never indicated the predisposition to making the grand gesture. It didn’t take me long to get there doubling timing it and she was waiting outside.
“Hey!” I’m sure my make up had run from crying, “Whoa, what’s wrong?”
“Lets grab coffee, and I’ll catch you up.” I gave her a hug and we went inside. “I ran into Matt on my way here.”
“Wait, Matt?” She lived with me when even I couldn’t keep my men straight.
“You know, the one I was going to transfer to some southern hick college town for?”
“Yeah, I remember. Doesn’t he live in Jersey though?”
“He does. I ran into him outside of Port Authority, I hadn’t heard from him since like December or something.” I grabbed my Iced Venti Caramel Macchiato and we sat down at the counter in the window.
“Fuck.” He was standing on the sidewalk outside.
“Wait, that’s him? Wow hun, he’s cute. I mean…I don’t know.”
“Its okay, what do I do though? I just told him off too blocks away, I don’t understand why he even cares.” I looked at him through the glass, looked at him looking at me like he really cared. I wanted to believe that he really was sincere this time, but then again I had wanted to believe that every time before.
“Don’t leave him standing out there, at least introduce me, I’ve heard enough about this guy for two years to choke a horse, at least let me meet him.” You had to give her credit, she always wanted to help.
“Okay.” I looked out and motioned for him to come in. He came over to us, not bothering to sit down. “Matt this is Amy,” I hated introductions. The whole social intercourse formality struck me as little more than ridiculous. “And Amy, this is Matt.” They shook hands.