Breaking Away

“I only meant—” she started.

“I get what you mean,” he said, interrupting her.

“I don’t think you do,” she disagreed.

“I do,” he said harshly.

“No,” she insisted, “you always hear what I say.”

She paused, considering her next words before continuing, “but you do not listen for what I mean.”

He glared at her, asking, “So, you’re not breaking up with me?”

She sighed expectantly, then replied, “Yes, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He asked, his voice fill with frustration, “And now you can read my mind, huh?”

Gently, she replied “No, but I think seven years of us together affords me some insight.”

He looked away, his expression strained and said, “Whatever.”

She continued with her original explanation before he interrupted her, “I need time to work on me.”

“Oh, and you can’t work on you in this relationship?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Why not,” he asked softly.

“It is my nature to take care of you at the expense of taking care of myself,” she explained, frowning at how the words felt rehearsed.

“What the hell does that mean?” he said, noticing his volume was loud enough to gain unwanted attention from people in the restaurant.

“It only means that sometimes I need to be taken care of,” she offered.

“But I do take care of you,” he insisted angrily, making sure to keep his voice low.

She pressed her lips together to stymie her first response, deciding instead to offer him the second more nuanced one, saying resignedly, “You are who you are. I am who I am.”

“What does that mean?” he said, checking his rising volume.

“I need more than you have been able to give,” she sighed.

“Like what?” he demanded.

“It is not your fault. It is no one’s actually. I just need something different.”

“What about me?” he asked. “What about my needs?”

She looked away, observing another couple enjoying their meal, then said, “This is not about your needs. Finally.”

“What does that mean?” he said, anger lining each word.

“It means that you are not listening,” she said, slightly annoyed.

“I am listening,” he insisted.

“That you have not been listening for a long time,” she continued. “I have told you what stresses me many times, and you always turn the conversations back to you.”

“I do not,” he said, chastened. “I listen and care about your problems. You know that.”

“I am not saying that you are not caring. I love you because you are.”

“Then what are you saying, exactly?” he asked, tension in his voice.

“That you are inconsiderate,” she said.

“How dare you?” he demanded, the words seemed to almost lift him out of his chair.

“It has taken me a long time to say what I know to be true,” she said, ignoring his indignation. “You have always needed my attention and support, and I have always loved giving it. But over time, I noticed that you were not giving me the attention and support that I need.”

“I have always supported you,” he said confused.

“It took me a while to put my finger on the issue that was constantly pulling at the seams of our relationship,” she said. “Whenever I approached the topic of what I need, I found it hard to get through to you.”

“Being with you is not a walk in the park, either,” he responded, clearly offended.

“I know,” she agreed, smiling because she knew he meant it as an insult.

“I don’t think you do,” he said, trying to provoke her though he knew the attempt would be wasted on her even-temper.

“I do more than you know,” she admitted. “I love you.”

“But you are no longer in love with me,” he stated rather than asked.

“You know that I don’t believe in being in or out of love with someone,” she said. “I love you and always will. This has nothing to do with that.”

“Sounds like it does,” he disagreed.

“I love you,” she confirmed, then added, “and I loved that we were trying to build something together.”

She paused, hesitant to continue, but felt compelled to say, “I loved the idea of us so much that I pushed down feeling neglected and a rising contempt for you because of it.”

Her words stunned him into silence.

“I finally realized that your attention and support looked like what you wanted from me,” she continued. “It was not what I needed.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked.

“I have, Hon,” she replied. “Many times, but I don’t think you understood what I was saying. Sometimes, I felt inadequate in explaining.”

“Explain now, then,” he insisted.

“Okay, I need you to see me,” she said finally, “not who you think I am. Or worse, what you need me to be for you.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” he asked, frustrated.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just know what I need.”

“You are asking the impossible, Babe,” he said. “Who really knows another on that kind of level?”

“Maybe,” she responded.

“And you think you know me like that?” he asked, sarcasm evident in his tone.

“Only you can answer that,” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee to steady herself.

He thought for a moment before admitting, “You know me better than anyone else. I value you more than you know. Your patience and kindness have gotten me through some tough times.”

She took his hands in hers and said, sadness in her voice, “I wish I could say the same.”

Pulling his hands away, he asked, his tone remorseful, “So, we cannot work on this together?”

She leaned back and put her hands in her lap before replying, “I don’t think anything will change, and I need to focus on me right now.”

He said nothing.

She continued, “I can’t do that while my every thought is about us—where we are in this relationship; what you really think of me as a strong and capable partner; what we would look like if we ever made a real connection and not linger in the idea of one.”

“That’s unfair,” he said sadly.

“It is,” she agreed sadly.

“So, you think our breakup will address your problem?” he asked.

“I don’t know the answer to the problem,” she admitted. “I am just stating the presence of the problem.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice us with no assurance that you will ever find the answer?” he asked, his tone measured.

She pondered his question for a few seconds before answering, “Sacrifice is a strong word,” she paused before continuing, “Just like breakup. So, here is how I see it. I am willing to release us and break away to focus on what I need and how to express it.”

“Hmm,” he responded, clearly considering her words.

She smiled before taking another sip of coffee.

“So, now what?” he asked cautiously.

Her smile melted away as she replied, “Now comes the really hard part.”

THE END