The Breakup

“We are through!”

Those words resonated in Michael’s ears. He walked along the riverfront with his head tucked to his chest. His eyes fixed on the shapes of the cobblestones covering the street, while his brain replayed everything again and again.

Michael planned a dinner at a fancy restaurant located downtown by the riverfront to celebrate Valentines with his long-time girlfriend Karla.

The maître walked to their table, and they enjoyed a three-course dinner, accompanied by an expensive Italian red wine.

A dinner with laughs and conversation ended with a delicious tiramisu for dessert. The couple left the restaurant; the moon and the fresh autumn breeze accompanied them on their walk.

Karla stopped while Michael kept walking and talking, not realizing that Karla stood a couple of steps behind motionless.

He stopped and turned around, walking towards her.

“Hey, you left me talking to myself.”

His laugh broke when he saw that Karla’s head tucked to her chest, looking to the ground, her expression stiff and tears streaming across her cheeks.

“What happened?” He ran back, trying to hug her.

Karla took a step back, Michel’s body straightened and his arms fell to his sides.

“I’m sorry.. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” “What are you talking about?”

“We are through!”

Karla turned away and walked with fast steps, while Michel followed with his eyes as she disappeared into the crowd.

During the following weeks, through texts and social media, Michael insisted on demanding an explanation, but found only digital silence.

Michael bothered their mutual friends for days, they blocked or ghosted him.

A few weeks later, when Michael walked his way to work, Karla holding hands with another fellow crossed his path.

Karla gave a quick glance out of the corner of her eyes while she kept walking.

Many times Michael met the guy at Karla’s office -during the long working hours and on the weekends at work.

Out of desperation, Michael showed up at her workplace, causing a commotion. Heated arguments led to a fight between him and the boyfriend.

With blood on his mouth and wearing a black eye, Michael walked handcuffed. Four guards escorted him to the patrol that took him to jail.

Michael called several of his friends, but no one answered his phone calls. An officer told him to call his parents. Michael lowered his head and sat on the bed.

The event went viral, triggering an email from his company asking him not to come back.

He visited several pubs intending to get drunk and ease his troubles. After the first beer, he got bored and drove home to watch videos or photos of his failed relationship.

During three weeks, Michael woke up at noon, wore the same clothes as the day before, ate cereal for breakfast, and watched TV. He ordered burgers, pizza, or chicken wings from delivery apps, and after 6 PM he drove to the local pub, returning home after the first beer.

With his credit card topped and his savings account drained, he contacted his closest friends. Only one of them answered his calls, but he refused to help him.

During New Year's Eve, and alone in his apartment, Michael sat on the couch and scrolled through his photos and videos.

He stared at a photo of himself surrounded by friends, wearing sunglasses, celebrating and laughing. He appeared front and center, shaved, trimmed, shirtless, scrunching his nose and making a fist in front of his chest.

With his finger, he scanned the face contour in the photo.

“Who are you?”

His reflection in the phone bore no resemblance to the man in the photo.

A New Year’s countdown came from the next-door apartment.

Michael stood up and walked to the kitchen.

A loud cheer rumbled, announcing the new year, and the night sky illuminated with fireworks.

He fell on his knees, crying; a tight, rhythmic quiver ran through his torso. His breath stuttered in his throat, betraying everything he tried to hide.

He cried for hours until fatigue overcame him and passed out.

The sun that entered through the kitchen window reflected on five big boxes filled with sodas, bags of chips, chocolate bars and other sweet and salty snacks.

After donating the boxes among his neighbors, he sat behind his laptop to update his resume and search for a new job.

Michael returned to the gym he trained for over a decade. The regulars he used to pump iron with were gone. New faces and different activities made him shift from machines and barbells to fitness classes; he gained over twenty pounds in the last two months, so tried the new high-intensity training recommended by the new head coach.

After each class, he ended up breathless and soaked in sweat. And when he arrived home, enjoyed a deep sleep.

During the fitness classes, he looked at a girl out of the corner of his eye, trying to go unnoticed. When their gazes met, Michael lowered his, or focused on his workout.

Every day after leaving, Michael regretted not having the courage to speak to her. From time to time, another man picked her up from the gym.

Four months after returning to the gym, and after the scale told him he needed only one more pound to be back to his best shape, Michael took out his phone and deleted Karla’s photos and videos.

After class, during the day before spring break began, he approached her with sweaty hands and red cheeks, not from exercise.

A subtle vibration in his pocket requested his attention; a reminder of an upcoming trip popped up on the main screen.

After looking at the alert, he slapped his face. He booked a trip to Cancun several months in advance to celebrate the seventh anniversary of his relationship with Karla.

The moment he glanced up, she was gone.

Michale tried countless times, but none of his calls changed the airline’s decision to refuse a refund for his plane tickets.

Two days later, sitting on the beach with no one besides him and getting his feet wet with the ebb and flow of waves, Michel admired the sunset.

He stayed until the sun disappeared, leaving a subtle orange glow on the horizon above the sea line. He stood up and walked towards the hotel bar.

Michael sat hunched over, enjoying the drink of the night prepared for him.

“Hi.”

Michael shrugged the moment he heard the voice talking to him, fixing his eyes on his drink. After a second, he turned slowing towards the person standing by his side.

He straightened up and leaned back, widening his eyes.

The gym girl stood in front of him with a big smile and bright eyes.

“The gym looks different today, eh?”

Michael tried to find words, but nothing came except for a frown.

“We see each other every day. I’m Melissa.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, hum, my name is Michael.”

Her voice came out in a sweet, delicate tone.

“I know, a friend of mine told me your name.”

Melissa sat and asked for a beer.

“He is a good friend of mine and picks me up from the gym from time to time. Funny story, he worked with you five years ago.”

Shaking his head, Michael grabbed his glass; the trembling of his hand made him put it back without sipping.

He scanned the bar as if looking for someone.

“Are you here… with your family?”

“Yes, we came to celebrate a wedding anniversary.”

“Oh, nice. How many years?”

“Thirty-five years of happy married life. Could you believe it?”

“Oh wow… is for your anniversary?”

“What?” Melissa burst out laughing, making everyone in the bar turn their heads in Michael's direction.

“Oh my god, no! Is not mine, is my folks.”

“I gave the trip to my parents as a gift. You know, they hadn’t gone on vacation since I was in high school, long, long ago.”

They spent the whole night chatting, and after the barman kicked them out, they continued their chatter seated on the beach under the moonlight and the stars.

The next day Melissa and her family returned to their hometown, while Michael stayed for three more days to complete his package trip.

After class, returning from the break, Michael asked Melissa out. They dated for seven months.

On Valentine's Day, Michael took Melissa to a fancy restaurant. They celebrated Valentine’s and big promotions in their jobs.

After dinner, they walked along the riverfront, holding hands.

Michael stood still while Melissa stopped four steps ahead.

She turned around, looking for Michael.

He stood on his right knee, holding a small black velvet box.