Upon his first admission, you will be shocked. You won’t believe it. You’ll want to laugh at him, tell him to stop kidding around. But the silence on the other end of the line will tell you that this. Really. Happened. And without any notice, you’ll burst into tears — sobbing, desperate tears. The first thing that will go through your head is “Why me?” He is wonderful and would never do that to YOU. He couldn’t. Then you’ll suddenly picture them together and throw your phone across the room, because that is what people in movies do, and this is most certainly a movie — this is not your life.
After a moment, you’ll awkwardly pick your phone back up just to hang up on him. And before you know it, you’ll be reaching for everything of his that’s in your closet, pulling freshly laundered shirts off of hangers and neatly folded socks and underwear out of drawers. Seeing these things will force you to think about him naked with her. Everything in your hands will drop to the floor as you search for the nearest grocery bag. You’ll realize that a single Safeway bag won’t fit all of this shit, and, exasperated, you’ll lunge for the bathroom.
Get his toothbrush and his razor. Resent him for the little hairs that are left in your sink. Wish that you had more of him to take away from the bathroom, but realize that, since you always used the same shampoo, your wish is in vain. You’ll think about his body again, wet, on her body, on top of her, filling her…. Stop. You have work to do.
Next is your bedroom. The framed picture of the two of you that’s sat on your nightstand for these last few months goes into the pile. You won’t even care about giving up the special frame that you bought for it. It reeks of everything you once thought the two of you could be. Looking at the bed that you shared just two nights ago, you’ll wonder if he held her afterwards. You’ll wonder if it comforted him. You’ll be too stunned to cry out, and your tears will have dried up out of rage, and you’ll fall to the floor for a moment. A thought will strike you as you try to quickly and painlessly remove every trace of him from your life. That gift — whatever it is — that used to mean the world to you. It needs to be eradicated.
After packing everything into a dumb, huge bag from last year’s Christmas shopping, you’ll reach for the gift — in this case, the 4earrings he got for you during his vacation over the summer. You’ll hate them. You’ll suddenly remember everything that you once loved about them — the shape, the color, the way they looked against your skin, and part of you will begin to hate all of it. This leads you to the best part: you’ll start to hate yourself. Your skin, your hair, your body, your hands. You’ll hate every part of yourself that you ever gave to him. Don’t worry, this is the feeling that will last the longest: after the blind rage has subsided, after you’ve become so numb that the possibility of crying seems miles away, you’ll still hate these parts of you. They will disgust you.
You’ll pitch the earrings into the bag, and you’ll have a moment of serenity — just a moment, until it all comes crashing in on you again.