The past. We all run into it now and again. There’s nothing you can do to avoid it. Bad breakups. Don’t get me wrong we all have them. Some of us walk away more intact than others. None of us are ever prepared to deal with them when they come face to face with us. I happen to have an uncanny knack for coming face to face with that unbelievably horrific fellow that broke my heart. Time and time again there he is. With that said… sometimes panic isn’t a choice.
Traffic. Beautiful afternoon. Top down. Driving fast. Looking and feeling fine with my fierce hair. The music is amazing. Prince is singing about wanting my kisses. It’s just about when he’s telling me that I don’t “have to watch Dynasty to have an attitude” that it happens.
Red light. Fix my lipstick. Mouth the words to “act your age mama, not your shoe size” before dropping my tube of fiery red. Somewhere after reaching down to recover the tube I manage look up and over to my right. There he is...
Panic.
It’s been twenty-two months and now I’m fine. It’s been fine. Prince loves my kiss. I’ve been smiling and wearing lipstick again. Damn it! My hair is fierce. But there it is. On the right. There he is. Over to my right with her. The new me. Sitting there with this new girl that’s not me. Another girl to replace the imposter that came before her. This one that looks like a stick of dynamite left a terrific crater where her face should be. I’m not sure whether I should be hurt or offended that he’s replaced me with this scarier version.
Panic.
And there’s no where to turn.
Panic.
The light is green but we’re not moving.
Panic.
Between the cars I can see the delay in the traffic.
Panic.
He can see my face as I try to keep performing my car concert duet with Prince. Over to the right… He’s laughing. And she’s laughing.
Panic.
Although they might not be laughing at me… I’m freaking.
Panic.
Green light. Go.
Panic.
Somewhere between fifty and a hundred feet I’ve done it. Happening like slow motion. A force of nature that can’t be contained. Ran the light. Acted my shoe size. Sped past my ex and hit a hydrant. There’s a blanket of water cascading over the hood of my car. The ex and the diss see me now parked on the curb with gallons upon gallons of water spraying into my car. Wet hair. Prince’s wet kisses. I’m not feeling fine as he drives by slow with her, a laugh and smile that leaves me hanging by a thread. A wet one. Damn.
“How are you? It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough. And I’m fine. You’re gone now.
“Fine. Is that what you’re calling it now?”
“At least I’m not you. Going around lying about it.”
“You know the way you overreact, it’s happening in your head again.”
“Overreact. I’m not the one running around town with my crying and tongue wagging.”
“Honestly…”
“Don’t worry I’m done. Besides I think “that girl” over there is waiting for you.”
Its after he leaves me to be with this other girl that I know there’s no going back. We’ve been over for less than 3 months but there’s a line of girls waiting to be next. I can’t compete with this and shouldn’t want to.
At lunch with my girl at this lovely restaurant trying to make small talk about the fun stuff without thinking of him. It’s been 13 months and I’m fine. We’re thinking of a fun road trip to the city that never sleeps when I hear it. That voice. The waiter has just seated a pair of people behind ours when I hear it. I look at her and she knows I know. She says “don’t panic” when I make the face of recognition. I instantly want to turn when she says "don’t do it", so I don’t. There’s a lot of laughter behind me and she keeps telling me about the latest guy she’s been seeing. I can’t get this fixation out of my mind. I can hear his voice and her voice and there’s a picture in my head. Two smiling faces talking and pointing behind me. I’m nervous when I think they’re talking about me and I spill the water. My girl quickly stops me and cleans it up. I can’t focus.
“Mina tell me about this new guy you’re talking to.” She says.
“Girl, that’s got to be him. It sounds…”
“It’s not him. Stop.” She says.
“I think its him. And he knows its me.” I whisper.
“Mina, stop.”
“I can smell his cologne. It’s him.”
“Shh. We’ll get up and leave in a minute then.”
“But then he’ll know it’s me, and…”
“I thought you said he knew it was you…”
“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go to the bathroom and see…”
“What will that do?”
“This way… if it’s him he won’t think I ran away when I saw him.”
“Mina, stop.”
Getting up when I know she’s right that maybe it doesn’t matter and it’s not him. She may be right but I keep moving. Turning my head to the left to get a quick glimpse. A glimpse that reveals nothing quickly as it lasts longer than is necessary when I realize I’m attached to the tablecloth and pulling lunch with me. My girl is screaming, “Stop” and a server collides with my chaos mid restaurant. I’m falling and looking. Oh no. It’s him.
Panic. Don’t Panic.
Instead of cool calm collectedness, there’s wetness, flames, and broken dishes before me as the man who broke my heart sits there with yet another new girl laughing at my disaster. My haste to get away only makes things worse. The waiter falls into the slippery mess alongside me while another catches on fire as more and more dishes land around me. Table after table stands to witness the wreckage. Everyone keeps gasping and laughing. It’s time to leave the scene of the crime. My girl hands me a napkin and helps me back to my feet.
Twenty-four months and I’m fine. I’ve hit the past head-on and lived to tell the tale. Ran into the past without the grace and composure that is needed and lived through it. There’s nothing you can do to avoid it coming. When it’s too late to recover from the slip and you’re falling down into the bottom of the hole. Somehow we all have to find the courage to keep going. Especially after the shit hits the fan. There are those people that will tell you to calm down when it happens. Don’t panic. It will be alright in the end. I bet they’ve never run into an ex…
This is, was in part inspired by a song, an old track I adore. Ever have a cataclysmically awful breakup with someone? A few of my friends and so many other people have been through it. Everyone seems to have had something of a rough break in their life from a horrible gal or fellow and then have to face it again. Ever handle it badly? That’s the idea. Enjoy the story. Have a good night. Kisses for those you love. m.
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