The Split

She slipped it into the conversation like it was an afterthought, but it served as a perfect coda to end our latest of many arguments.

She said that she needed a vacation.

My girlfriend informed me that she would be gone for a week. She would be traveling with some friends to a nearby beach and would return that Sunday.

After the initial pang of hurt and jealousy subsided, I became excited.

I still love my girlfriend, at least I think I do, but lately I haven’t been so sure. A week long break was exactly what we needed. The constant bickering was getting to be too much. I was in dire need for a week to get my bearings and reassess our relationship.

It's not one thing in particular that irks me about Ana. It's just a bunch of little things that have added up over the two years we have lived together. Lately it has reached a point that, at times, her very presence can make my skin crawl.

In addition to this, she is a loner by nature and I constantly struggle with her hasty decision to move in with me. I should have spent more time getting to know her before rushing into living together.

In any case, I was very much looking forward to a week all to myself.

My own private vacation. My time to do the things I wanted to do without having to hear Ana's complaining.

The week went great. I did not do much else than revel in my isolation, enjoying free rein of our apartment.

Freedom, sweet freedom.

Words cannot describe the jubilation I felt. On Wednesday, I remember staring long and hard at our photo we took on the water, which we displayed prominently in the living room. I turned it face down. There were some cold hard truths percolating in my brain.

Before I knew it, Sunday rolled around. That morning I woke up with an all consuming melancholy. I had enjoyed being by myself so immensely. I was sad from the anxiety of seeing it go. As emotion continued to overcome me, I realized what I had to do.

Ana had told me she would be arriving around 7pm. Though we didn't talk all week (not a good sign for our relationship clearly), I assumed she would still be coming home at that time. I left the door unlocked and mentally prepared myself for what was the best way to tell her it was over.

Cowardice overtook me. I swallowed a triple dose of sleeping pills and got into bed. Our inevitable confrontation would have to wait for tomorrow as I decided to extend my vacation one more night.

I awoke at 9 to the slamming of the front door. Confusion was replaced by anxiety. However, I was resolute in the fact that our life altering talk would wait until tomorrow. I pretended to sleep, expecting to be greeted by the sound of the bedroom door opening, instead the vibration of my phone on the nightstand cut through the silence of the dark room.

Though my eyes were dry and my vision was blurred from the effects of the sleeping pills, I did not need to see my phone to know who was texting me.

This was something she did that drove me nuts. We lived in a very small apartment, but she would insist on texting me if I was in another room, hounding me with multiple messages when she could just get off her ass and talk to me face to face. I had chided her for it before and was furious about it at that moment. As I continued to lay in bed feigning sleep, it struck me why I detested it so much. It was emblematic of the breakdown in communication between us, another symptom of a relationship falling apart.

As my phone continued to vibrate, I let sleep find me once again.

I awoke at 11 to the sound of feet shuffling outside the bedroom door. The footsteps going back and forth up and down the hallway. I could hear Ana talking to herself. I could barely make it out, but it sounded as if she was just saying my name over and over again with increasing anger and fury.

This is another thing she did that pissed me off. She would pace up and down the hallway talking to herself. My choice to end it all was becoming clearer as the right decision by the minute.

I looked over to see I was still getting texts. I had had enough.

Fuck her for being upset!

If she has something to say, she can open the goddamn door and say it to my fucking face!

If she wanted to be childish and send me passive-aggressive texts, I would return in kind.

I finally picked up my phone to release a torrent of malicious messages. My anger channeled into my fingertips. However, I stopped cold when I saw I had missed 30 calls and as many texts.

None of which were from Ana.

As I began to read through them, the horror began to build in me reaching a crescendo as I read the last text from my father It read.

Son, I am so sorry for your loss. Ana was an amazing girl.

With unfathomable fear coursing through me, I dropped the phone. I turned my head slowly toward my bedroom door as it began to open.