Seriously
So Heath and I are done. Well, according to him we are. But we’re not done. Not yet anyway. I decide when we’re done. And you know what? After the stunt he pulled yesterday I’m thinking that day is fast approaching. To cause a scene like that…are you kidding me? Real mature, Heath.
Me? Oh I’m fine. I mean, yeah, I have a few cuts and stuff, but nothing that will leave a scar.
After he finished embarrassing me in front of a store full of people, some woman tried to help me get cleaned up. The owner threatened to call the police, but I think he decided not to after he saw me crying in a pool of glass and blood. I suppose it didn’t hurt that I was mumbling “what about the baby?” over and over. Right, like you can call the cops on a pregnant lady. Obviously I’m not pregnant, but they didn’t need to know that.
Anyway, I got cleaned up and someone called me a cab. On the ride home I kept on thinking about what I was going to say to Heath when I saw him. Boy was I pissed. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can treat me like that. We’re talking serious ass chewing.
But the prick wasn’t there and he hasn’t been answering his cell.
If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow I guess I’ll have no choice but to pay a visit to his wife’s house 
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of calls to make.
“Guess who!” God, how excited is he going to be?
“Liz?”
“How’d you know?” He’s probably getting a boner as we speak.
“Caller ID.”
“Ohh, that’s sweet, you still have me in your phone.”
“No. I recognized the number.”
Whatever, he’s just saying that.
“What do you want?”
“Sheesh, Mr. Cranky pants. I just called to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“Probably ’cause I’m talking to you.”
He doesn’t mean that.
“You’re too funny.”
“Liz?”
“Yeah?”
“Bye.”
What the fuck? Are you kidding me? He hung up. What kind of piece of shit does he think he is?
“Will?”
“Why’d you call back, Liz?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
He’s a sucker for sadness.
“So talk.”
“You don’t have to be mean you know.”
Honestly, who does he think he is?
“What do you want?”
“I miss you.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I think we made a big mistake.”
“You made the mistake.”
Whatever.
“Do you miss me?”
“Don’t do this, Liz.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Don’t swear at me.”
Nor can he handle crying.
“I just wanted to talk and…and…”
Or hysterical crying. He’ll break.
“Are you done?”
“I miss you babe.”
“You miss me when you were fucking Heath?”
“I did. Don’t laugh. I thought about you a lot.”
“Does he know you’re calling?”
“Of course not.”
“So I’m the new Heath then.”
“No, you’re the old Will.”
“I bet you used the same line with Heath.”
Of course.
“Of course I didn’t.”
“So where is he?”
“Working.”
“On a Saturday?”
“I know, he’s like super busy lately. We hardly see each other.”
“Must be rough.”
“Ha ha Mr. Sarcastic.”
“Can you stop with the mister shit?”
“Can you stop with the sarcasm…I told you that because I’ve had a chance to think a lot lately.”
“And?”
“I’ve been thinking about us.”
If you smile when you talk you sound more sincere.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about us too.”
“You have?
Got him.
“What have you been thinking about?”
“I’ve been thinking about how much time I wasted dating you.”
“Excuse me?”
“And I can’t believe we lasted as long we did.”
“Really, you just said that? Are you kidding me?”
“When you think about it, it’s hard to believe I didn’t try killing myself sooner.”
“That’s not funny Will. Don’t joke about stuff like that.”
It’s natural for him to be upset. Just be patient.
“I’m serious. Being with you sucked.”
“Blaming me won’t help anything, Will.”
“Who said I wanted help?”
“Hello, you almost committed suicide. Obviously you need it.”
“Maybe I’ve already got it.”
“You told your parents?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I found someone who actually cared about someone other than themselves.”
“Whatever.”
“She’s a great girl.”
“Stop it.”
“Everything you’re not.”
“Go to hell.”
“And unlike with you, when I tell her I love her, I mean it.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Holy shit, you’re crying. Are these real tears or the usual fake ones?”
“They’re real, asshole.”
“Wow, you must really hurt. Do you?”
“I hate you.”
“It’s a bitch isn’t it. Getting your heart ripped out.”
Why can’t I stop crying?
“Enjoy it. I hope it lasts.”
“Fuck you, you fucking pathetic fuck.”
“Are you done?”
“Go to hell.”
“Right. Have a good life.”
He hung up. He told me off and he hung up. On me. Who does he think he is? I mean, honestly, when did the spine show up? Not at all what I expected. At least he thinks I was really crying. Now he’ll know how much I hurt. That’s why he’ll call back. He thinks he’s over me, but he’s not. That skank- who is obviously a slut- is just a band-aid. He may not know it, but I do. You don’t get over someone like me that easily.
