(no subject)

Tonight was the end of Jane and I. A month ago, we'd been on the verge of breaking up. All the signs that I saw indicated that it was over, but sheer chance, or maybe my tears, bought us a reprieve. Jane wasn't sure how she felt about our prospects. I still wanted us to be together but I was very frustrated and virtually out of hope; if her heart was no longer in it then there was no hope.
In the month since, I was tugged between two impulses. To either begin withdrawing to protect myself and place all burden of saving the relationship on her, or to increase my efforts to reach out and try to revive what we'd had. I like to think I did the latter, though the frustration was still simmering beneath and at times I was selfish.
I've been through this month before; still caring for another person but terribly uncertain how they felt and doubting the permanence of what we had. Part of me knew that real changes would take time, the other part was insistent to see quick improvement in order to merit my increased efforts. To be selfish or selfless.
I'd been over at Jane's for three days. I'd found myself acutely missing her the weekend before and came up on Tuesday. It wasn't as if our time together was ominous or foreboding; I believe we had as much fun as we normally do. No physical intimacy and a dearth of affection, though, that much is certain. I was exceptionally happy when she kissed me goodbye this afternoon when she went shopping with her mom. It had been the only affection that she initiated over the three days and I was starved for any. We bummed around town Tuesday, showered together and went to her comedy show on Wednesday, and endured a family gathering at her house on Thursday. Pleasant times and some trying times, nothing out of the ordinary. My sleep schedule had become as screwed up as hers so we were staying up late together. I'd tried to initiate intimacy on Tuesday night to no avail and I wanted to try again tonight. I knew the chances were virtually nill but I was tired of letting pessimism dictate my actions.
Relatively early in the evening though, Jane asked my thoughts on the month since our last difficult talk. I replied that the limbo had been tough to bear, but overall, things were good. Jane confided that although she recognized and appreciated my increased efforts, she still did not feel any of the . . . romance that she once had. Jane commented that my emotional response tonight seemed lesser than when we'd broached the subject of breaking up last month. The idea still tore at me, but having had a month to contemplate it, I could hold my composure a bit better. That was the only difference. The conversation descended into the same pessimistic outlook as last time. There wasn't much I could say. This decision depended on what Jane felt, the words had to come from her.
Last month I was certain we would break up. The lack of tears or emotion from her (while I was a wreck) looked like undeniable proof that her heart wasn't in it any more. If I'd had my truck that night, I would've forced the break-up regardless of her diplomacy. But as it was, I had to stay there and that compelled us to talk through the crisis.
I thought tonight would be a re-hashing of that last conversation, but then Jane finally brought herself to say what I'd been fearing and expecting. We didn't have a future together. She was as calm and kind and apologetic as she could be, but it still tore me up. All our plans, all my hopes for us, all that I'd wanted for me, for her, for us . . . it was gone now. The photo album I'd made for our future trips, our house, her perfect baby name (Arbor), her meatball costume, it was nothing now.
I know we weren't the perfect fit for one other and I was stubborn about changing to meet her needs but I really wanted us to find happiness in each other. I wish I'd understood her concerns when she first brought them up months ago, rather than dismissing them as being implausible for so early in a relationship. I'm still stunned and ashamed that I lost or squandered whatever she felt for me so quickly. Despite our significant differences this was the best relationship I'd been in and yet, within the space of two or three months I'd done irreparable damage to us and didn't even know it.
I didn't want to end up as just another name on her list, but there I am. I failed us. Why couldn't I have made it work?


I gathered up my things, trying with some success to keep it together. My clothes, toiletries, my mug, all the short roots I'd put down here. As I scanned the house for more of my belongings it hit me harder. The painting Lilly had made for her, the desk we'd built together, the painting we'd made . . . This was the last time I'd be here. What had been my half-home with her just a few hours earlier was now a place I didn't belong. She brought me my shirts that she had become her sleep-shirts. I wouldn't be able to wear them, but neither could she.
Once that was done, I hugged her for the last time. Her warmth, her size, her smell, her feel. There was no way I could hold onto any of these feelings, they would be gone soon. This was the very last moment that she would be 'my Jane'.
“I'm sorry,” she said and I felt one warm tear fall on my arm. That meant the world to me. It meant that somewhere, at least in some small way, she did care for me. It meant that, at least for a time, we had something meaningful.
“No,” I said, “I'm sorry.” I cried and kissed her on the top of her head just like our clumsy first night together. As much as I was hurting right now, the feeling of being a failure was just as strong. “I hope you find the right man for you. I just wish it had been me.” I couldn't say any more than that. I couldn't hold onto her any longer. It was done.

I miss her so much.

Afterword

Today was very rough. I awoke late in the afternoon and believed I had the house to myself. I began gathering up Jane's things (there wasn't much). There were many interruptions of crying. I found some old journal entries, the ones that I hadn't been able to post, and uploaded those to my web journal. Jane didn't approve of my journal but it doesn't really matter anymore. I need to get rid of those hand-written pages, but couldn't bring myself to delete them from existence. I need to keep a reminder of how I broke this relationship.
I came downstairs eventually and was surprised to find Cameron there. He said he was taking the day off. I managed to exit quickly without betraying my emotional state. I went out for lunch but had hardly any appetite. I almost broke down a couple times in public. Fortunately it was slow at the restaurant and there weren't many eyes about.
Back at the house I finished sewing the alterations on her dresses that I'd promised so long ago. It hurt to think that I'd never see her in it, that we'd never go on those vacations that we'd planned, but keeping busy helped me. I packed up her stuff into a box. Taking her key off my keychain was the last part and sent me into another jag of sobs and crying. I had thought I would mail her stuff back to her but then I remembered that she has that little postal box and wasn't sure how or if she could receive such a big box. So I decided I'd drive it over and drop it off on her doorstep. I just needed to wait until rush hour was over.
Lilly came home and came into my room, oblivious that I'd been crying. As far as she knew, it was another good day with the people she cared about. I read a chapter to her from our book and then coaxed her to go back downstairs. I gathered up all of the mementos I had from Jane and packed them away. As I looked through them and my journal notes and my old texts, I realized how terribly I'd failed at returning Jane's affection. All the time I wanted her behavior to change and thought her words paled in comparison. My stubbornness and unkindness gradually trampled over her soft, gentle, caring feelings. I could see them wither away over the weeks and months in the face of my displeasure. I hate that I did that to her. I put too much weight and penalized her too harshly for her lack of action and paid no heed to the precious value of her words. And now she's gone.

I thought that I needed to try and function normally so I went downstairs and joined the family in the living room. Cameron and Katherine were on their phones, Lilly was watching the Lego movie and playing with Play-Doh. I was just kinda . . . there. And out of nowhere, Lilly says, “I really like Miss Jane's present.” Hearing Lilly speak of her tore at me. I'd feared having to explain why Miss Jane would never be coming back, of why we weren't boyfriend and girlfriend anymore. I asked, “What present are you talking about?” Katherine supplied, “The Millenium Falcon lego present.”
Some time later Cameron was chatting and asked the inevitable, “So how is Jane doing?” My voice was rough when I answered, “Not so good, I think. We broke up yesterday.”
Cameron and Katherine were silently shocked. Cameron, like a good brother, did what he could to console me. I know it must've been awkward for him to see me tearing up. He gave me a hug and prompted Lilly to do the same. I wasn't in any state to receive kindness and I cried more. I didn't break down entirely, but I just couldn't talk about it right now. I'm grateful that I'm not alone. This loss would be much harder to bear without anyone around me.

About 8 pm I left for Jane's house. By now the tears were coming less frequently; emotional exhaustion was taking its place. Although my intent was solely to leave her belongings at her house, part of me wanted her to be there, wanted to see her just once more, while the rest of me knew it would be better if she was gone. She'd had plans to go see an improv show with a friend today. If she was at home, I would think that she was still traumatized by our break-up and that would give me some sliver of hope that she might reconsider. Or at least, it would show me that she was hurting too and that would lessen my own hurt. If she was gone, that would mean that she was recovering faster than me, that our break-up had less of an impact on her. That would hurt me more, but would speed up the break.
Jane's car wasn't there and I was glad, in a way. I walked up to her front door, the familiar setting twisted me up as I approached. I set the box down and paused, my face crumpling. What little I had left of her was in that box. There was no reason to stay; this was the very last time I would be here. I was visiting a grave.
I turned and left.

As much as I want it to not be true, I don't think I'll ever see her again. I fucked up a good relationship with a great woman and I have to live with that. I haven't felt so strongly about someone since my first naive relationship and yet, I couldn't hold onto her. This was the biggest failing of my life.