Quietly Fizzling Out

It had been tense between them all evening, as if a long and taut piece of piano wire was keeping them apart over the fear that any approach or movement might cause it to snap. She repelled all his advances of intimacy while they walked around this resplendently lit shopping centre with two other people. A hand to be held, a waist to be cupped, arms to be linked, all these she flinched away from in repulsion, leaving him hollow and disheartened.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asked, attempting to gauge her mood through words.

“I’m still full from lunch.” was her icy reply which landed on him like glaciers crashing into the ocean.

She stared around at the elaborate Christmas lights suspended from the high vaults of the shopping centre, trying to distract herself from the thoughts writhing in her head. Meanwhile, he stared at her now and again trying to glimpse any sign of emotion on her beautifully inscrutable face. So distracted were they by discomfort they almost forgot about the other two with them, yet the presence of those two was conspicuous enough to them to inhibit what they wished to say.

“There’s an arcade around the corner, we can go bowling if you guys want.” suggested one of the other two.

Her reply of agreement was as desultory as his, but he held onto hope that this evening might yet be saved by some physical activity.

Things got no better for either of them during bowling. Whether she’d roll the ball straight into the gutter, knock over only a handful of pins, or take down most of them, he so badly wanted to put his arm around her when she’d sit next to him after her turn. She, however, would turn her back to him and stiffen each time he even tried to touch her. This prompted him to give up this hope. They had bought tickets for two games, but it became apparent at the end of the first one that neither of them wanted to be there anymore.

“We can finish this second game and go home if you want.” he offered, unable to bear her misery.

A nod of agreement was all she had left in her.

They both dragged themselves through the second game, having lost all desire and skill for the game.

On the way to the exit, he asked her, “Are you tired?”

“I’m more than tired.” was her cryptic reply.

*

Now they were under the shelter of an empty smoking area, waiting for their Uber which they’d share with the other two. The light rain had turned the concrete car park into a mirror which reflected the electric torchlights decorating the entrance to the shopping centre.

Apart from metal bars to lean on, this smoking area has nothing in the way of seating, so he jokingly offered, “You can sit on my lap and I’ll be your cushion if you want.”

“I’ll stay standing,” she said, staying true to her curt words.

She leaned with her side against the plastic enclosure of the smoking area and began scrolling on her phone. From where he sat, enduring the eternity it took for their Uber to arrive, he could see what was on her phone. She was focusing on some document, scanning it line after line in search of something. He knew what that document was. He had, same as her, pored over every line of that cramped text searching for the same thing she was currently looking for. It was after a particularly vicious argument just the night before that he checked, at her behest, their tenancy agreement for the terms of early termination. That argument wasn’t the first time the idea of ending the tenancy they had together on their flat was brought up. Indeed, they still had another 7 months until their contract would expire, so a breakup – a scenario he thought almost certain at the end of their more recent battles – would turn their flat into quicksand for the remainder of that term. But neither of them had before taken the step of checking the tenancy contract for this because they both knew that doing so would represent the nadir their relationship had reached.

As she scrolled through the tenancy agreement with shaky breaths, the rest of the world receded away from her. And, as he watched her scrolling through that contract, she began receding away from him even though her cool and slender figure stood just two paces away from him. They both felt adrift in these merciless waters and escape was their only oar.

Their contract didn’t include any explicit terms for early termination, so he pulled out his phone and composed an email to their property estate agent asking for those details. It was close to 9 pm so he knew he wasn’t getting any reply today, but he pressed send anyway to put this whole sordid process into motion.

“I’ve already looked through the contract and I’ve also emailed the estate agency,” he said, his voice devoid of the affection he’d been failing to warm her with all evening.

She heard this but gave no recognition of hearing him.

Soon after, the taxi arrived and all four of them squeezed themselves in.

*

They were sat together but there seemed to be an invisible wall between them. She felt numb and sore inside. While he couldn’t seem to grasp onto a single slippery and swift thought. He wanted to formulate a plan, figure something out, and come up with some kind of solution for him, for both of them, but everything in his head was whizzing by like bullets. The taxi driver clicked the radio on to Frank Sinatra singing My Way.

And now the end is near

And so I face the final curtain

My friend I’ll make it clear

I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain

What was this? he thought cluelessly. Suddenly all the lyrics to the song had transformed themselves into a funeral dirge for their relationship.

Regrets, I’ve had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do

I saw it through without exemption

Despite the encroaching sorrow of the situation and the maelstrom raging on in his head, he couldn’t help but quietly sing along, partaking in this lament. She, on the other hand, was too worn out to care.

A glint from the corner of his eye caught his attention and when he looked to inspect it his heart shattered. Her lips were pursed and from wet eyes a single tear was slowly trailing down her cheek. The passing lights of the city outside; cars, traffic lights, and buildings were refracting through that pregnant tear rolling down her cheek, turning it into a multi-coloured light show.

The lack of emotion she felt towards him at that moment astounded her so much that, paradoxically, she couldn’t hold her sadness back any longer. But this wasn’t the place or time to cry.

Upon noticing her tears, he grabbed her hand which she was resting on her leg, and even though she did not indicate wanting to hold his, he didn’t let go. At least she isn’t shaking me off, he thought exhaustively.

It had finally dawned on both of them where they had come, the lines that had been crossed, that ever-vital source of life that had been lost. They spent the remainder of the drive in strained silence, staring out the rain-streaked windows of the car looking for insignificant details the way dying people do in their final moments.

*

“Time for bed?” he ventured as they got out of the taxi outside the house where they were currently staying.

She nodded weakly and they headed inside and straight to the guest bedroom, relieved to at least be free from the company of the other two.

They each took a shower, one after the other, and freshened up for the inexpressible task ahead of them. When he came out of the bathroom, dressed down in his pyjamas, he found her slumped on the bed scrolling through Instagram Reels.

He sat cross-legged before her, gathered whatever diminished courage he had left and asked, “I saw you looking at the tenancy agreement earlier. Does that mean you want to break up?”

He steeled himself for her reply like someone whose about to face a firing squad.

“Yes,” she said while nodding.

He felt nothing. No solid, piercing impact he was expecting. That’s because she felt it within her.

“Hmmmm, I thought so. Things have clearly not been working out. We’ve been having the same arguments over and over again.” he rattled on, surprised at his composure.

“I’ve just had enough. I’ve had enough of giving you more chances, of telling you what you should be doing, of being disappointed,” she said as her body sunk back further into the pillow behind her.

These words should be corroding him like poisonous injections, but because he’d heard them over and over again through the past month they now merely felt like flesh wounds.

Calmly he replied, “That’s fair enough. And I’ve had enough of defending myself over and over again, trying to make you see my perspective and make you understand why I’ve done the things I’ve…”

“I do understand your perspective,” she interrupted, her features sharpening, “you’re underestimating my intelligence. I understand why you’ve done it, but I’ve just had enough of holding your hand.”

He began to slowly deflate like an airbed with a secret and pernicious leak. “See, we’re beginning to have the same argument again. We’ll just be wasting our breath if we stay together.”

For some reason, these sepulchral words were coming so easily to both of them. They had been together for three and a half years sharing the kind of supernal love that makes one think it’s the most powerful force in the universe. Never had either of them once thought they could be separated. But now they were each taking turns driving the nails into the coffin of their love and nothing was impeding their hammers.

She said, striking the final nail, “Yeah, and I can’t keep doing the same thing over and over again. It’s the start of a new year and I want to have new energy. I have so many things I want to get done and I can’t with this cloud of our relationship hanging over me.”

There was no arguing against this. He wanted only what was best for her. He lived through this entire relationship making her life effortless, removing all sources of stress and worry, and elevating her happiness. That’s all he ever wanted. And it became painfully abundant to him that he’d failed his purpose in this relationship.

“I know.” he said, then continued while chuckling, “I just find it funny, I never thought a relationship like ours would go out but now that it’s going I thought there would at least be some loud bangs, something violent and uncontainable. But no, we’re just fizzling out quietly here.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with an annoyingly confused expression.

“I don’t know, my thoughts are half-formed at the moment. I can’t think straight.” He pulled himself together a bit and continued, “Anyway, if your mind is made up that you want to break up then I won’t try to stop you, I won’t try to argue with you, I’ll give you the peace I haven’t been able to give you over the past month.”

His vision began to dissolve in the tears that were welling up in his eyes and he felt a twitching in his face that was threatening to contort his features into an ugly wail. But he was acutely aware of not being in their natural habitat. In a bedroom that wasn’t theirs, in a house that wasn’t theirs, in a city that was across the country from theirs, they couldn’t give full vent to their powerful emotions, so they had to do with a controlled release lest everyone in the house becomes aware of their situation.

Her reddened eyes were streaming tears over her flushed cheeks too as she tried to restrain her grief to a certain infrasonic pitch. She said, “And I don’t deserve what you did to me.”

“No you don’t.” he agreed.

Because, who deserves being lied to by their partner throughout their relationship? When he told her a few months ago that he had lied about his entire family history, his whole back story, his origins, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She found his confession so bizarre that it left her no space for emotions like betrayal, sadness, or anger, although they would definitely come later with redoubled zeal. Her entire perception of this relationship, of him, unravelled and what remained was the image of someone profoundly broken by his past. “But why should I have to deal with the effect of his terrible coping strategies”, she would tell herself when the urge to break up with him would periodically wash over her. However, she went against her instincts and gave him another chance rather than split up with him. Because after all, the true fault didn’t lie with him but with his parents who physically and emotionally abused him so viciously throughout his childhood that he had no other choice but to lie to everyone about who his parents were. Shame and disgust kept him from accepting his real parent, so he invented his own and fronted the imaginary as the truth.

But this lie itself wasn’t the reason they broke up. She gave him a chance and left it to him to prove that he could make her feel loved again, that the love they shared wasn’t a lie. The killing blow would be dealt over a month later on New Year’s Eve, her favourite night of the year. Throughout that time they were becoming closer again, he was expending all efforts at mending their relationship, and things looked hopeful. They were almost in a spot where they could put this insipid little mess behind them and look forward to the future.

On that fateful evening, however, they both took MDMA at a house party and things got out of hand. He took too much and became incoherent, unfocussed, and confused. He was stumbling around, blindly bumping into people, spilling things. Making a fool of himself and by proxy of her too. Overwhelmed by embarrassment and stress, she sent him upstairs to take a nap to sleep it off. As he lay sleeping there with his serotonin receptors exploding, he never once realised that he had just crashed through the thin ice he had been on since the crisis in their relationship from over a month ago. The icy cold splash of this fatal plunge didn’t hit him in the face until their train back to London from Cardiff.

The minuscule matter of deciding the return journey back from Manchester degenerated into a vicious argument the likes of which they’d never had. Bottled matter appearing out of nowhere, this nuclear chain reaction of an argument had them quietly spewing imprecations at each other. The other passengers were an oppressive presence upon his composure. Is it possible for one to navigate such a crisis quietly? It didn’t take him long to trip over his words, fumbling with his weak reasoning, unable to communicate properly with anything other than his neurosis. Throughout the rest of the train journey and the tube ride home, their relationship went through its death throes. New depths had been sunk to, from where there seemed no return. Things were said that couldn’t be unsaid.

A passenger on the train, who could presumably hear every word of their bickering, said to his partner, “He’s just had his boyfriend card revoked.” He heard this and it stung, but what could he do about it? This pointless wisecrack was nothing compared to his world dissolving around him. Witnessing a public argument is more than a common occurrence, and he himself couldn’t count how many similarly choice comments he’s made towards the victims of their troubles. With the tables turned, it felt unnecessarily and painfully real. Not because of the insult behind the words but the fundamental unawareness strangers have to the events in other’s lives. Would that passenger have said something if he knew their story? Ignorance is the most powerful insulation, enough to reduce their three-and-a-half years together down to a simple throwaway blurb from a stranger on a train.

He continued speaking, “I know that I had my reasons for lying to you about my past and I know that what happened on New Year’s was a mistake that I didn’t intend to make, but I’m really sorry for how things have turned out. I never wanted to treat you like this.” His tears were flowing more freely now but he quickly wiped them away and blew out the fuse of his sorrow before it’d explode.

Following his lead, she had also gotten a hold of herself and said, “But you did end up treating me like this.”

“I know,” he asserted, “and there isn’t a single moment I don’t regret what I did. I’m doing everything I can to show you how sorry I am. I know you want to break up with me but I’m still willing to work on this and fix things.”

She stood her ground and said, “You haven’t done much. All you’ve done is talk. There hasn’t been any action.”

Her vehemence emboldened him because what she was saying was utterly false. “Come on, you can’t mean that. I’ve been apologising to you every single day since I lied to you. I’ve been apologising every moment since New Year's. I've taken every possible step to win your trust again; going to therapy, making you meet my real parents, cutting out drugs and alcohol. Whatever you wanted me to do I did it. I live my whole life just to make yours easier, to bring you happiness, what more can I do?”

“You can’t,” she admitted resolutely, I don’t want anymore.”

His tone dropped with annoyance, “And I don’t want to keep apologising to you if you’re not going to accept it. We’re going around in circles fighting about the same thing, me apologising for the same thing. We’re doing it right now. If this is how things will continue to be then maybe we should break up.”

Her manner relaxed a bit at this. Her mind was made up and all she needed was for him to agree.

Assuming a business-like manner, he asked, “What will we do about the living situation then?”

“I don’t know…”

“Well,” swooping in like someone who pretends to know all the answers, “there isn’t anything explicitly mentioned in the contract, so I’ve already emailed the estate agency. We should know once they get back. If we can leave early then we’ll go our separate ways, if not then I can stay out of your way for the remainder of the tenancy. I’ll get an air mattress and sleep on it. If you’re in the bedroom I’ll stay in the living room and the other way around. And at the end, we’ll just split the deposit between us.”

She found that last part tactless and bristled against it, “We’ve just broken up and you’re already thinking about the deposit?”

His gloves were instantly up, “I’m sorry but as we’re no longer together I have the right to plan my future and look out for myself.”

“But wait a bit longer before talking about the deposit, yeah?” she snapped.

The error of his manner became immediately clear to him. This isn’t how he wanted them to part, not with barbs and splinters. They were wounded enough as is. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Bringing up the deposit was tasteless of me. We’ll sort that later.” He continued, “What will you do in the future then? Will you stay in London? Move in with someone else?”

He knew the answer she’d give him before he even asked the question, he just wanted to keep talking to her.

Just as expected, she replied, “I don’t know yet. What about you?”

“I can’t afford to live in London alone, I might move to Cardiff or Manchester, I need to figure that out right now.”

“And what about tonight? How will we sleep?” she asked curiously.

“If you want I can sleep on the floor, it’s carpeted anyway, but if you don’t mind I’d like one last night in bed with you.”

After considering it for a moment, she replied, “You can sleep in the bed.” Chuckling with, “You can be at my mercy for one last night.”

The three-and-half-year history of their relationship became concentrated into a short pause, after which he said, his voice faltering, “Are there any final words you’d like me to say? Or anything you wish you heard from me?”

She certainly wasn’t in the mood for such maudlin sentiments so she simply replied in the negative.

A bit let down, he said, “In that case, I’ll leave you to it.”

She immediately picked up her phone and resumed scrolling through Reels.

At the door, just before he left the room, he said, “One thing’s for sure, these were the happiest three and a half years of my life.”

Without looking at him, she replied curtly, “Same.”

Even though her tone and attitude suggested otherwise, he was sure she meant it.

*

A few hours later he snuck back into the room. The lights were out and she was lying on the bed with her back to him, apparently asleep. He kept his shuffling to a minimum, trying his best not to wake her up. Disturbing her sleep usually invoked a beastly wrath, so he didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he did so now. When his head landed on the pillow, he felt like his body was sinking deeper into the bed and that within moments the air to his lungs would be blocked. Head still abuzz, he tried to suck in as much air as his lungs could hold, without waking her up. Sleep was out of the question, the best he could manage was to calm himself and let his body wind down automatically. 

He continued his breathing exercise for another twenty minutes before a voice from beside him asked, “Are you able to sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

It was silent between them for a moment. Both were unsure what to say next so they wallowed in comfortable silence for a bit longer.

“How are you feeling?” she challenged the silence.

“Horrible. How about you?”

“The same. But I know it had to be done.”

His heart melted with equal parts defeat and relief. An infinite amount of affection inexplicably washed over him. “And if your mind is made up then it’s the right thing to be done.”

“It is,” she admitted unapologetically.

They lay there wordlessly for a bit longer before she asked, “Are you afraid of being single?”

Surprised by her frankness he gave out a small laugh. “Of course not. You know that I’m at my happiest when I’m alone. Difference with you was you’re the only person capable of making me as happy as I feel by myself. Are you afraid of being single?

“Not really. I know it will feel different. But I’m not scared.” she said, feeling her soul suddenly unburden itself. Wracked with grief as she was over the loss of their love, this was the first time in over a month she didn’t feel like the ground would fall from beneath her. Their relationship which punctuated the long time they were together with stability, consistency, and comfort, had lost all those qualities when the crisis between them began. Being on the receiving end of this wild revelation, she felt the absence of those former cherished qualities most acutely. No more did she have to continually debate with herself the wisdom of staying in this relationship. No longer did she wonder whether today they’d go to sleep together but wake up separated. For once she could just look out for herself, and the idea filled her with excitement and nervousness.

After another prolonged silence, she rolled over from her side to lay on her back. “Do you think this is the universe is testing us?”

Puzzled, he asked for clarification, “What do you mean?”

“What if the universe is trying to keep us apart and we’re supposed to fight it and stay together?” she said.

An iota of hope glimmered within him but he tried not to pay it much mind. “Well,” he started, “do you think it’s the universe testing us? I know you believe in that kind of stuff and if you believe in it then it’s true for you. So what do you think?”

“It could be. Maybe we are supposed to fight it and stay together, but maybe this is a test just for me and you where we’re supposed to resist getting back together and just focus on ourselves.”

As quietly as it arrived, that glimmer of hope in him left. “If that’s what you feel then that’s what you must do.” He continued, “I would obviously say that the universe is trying to keep us apart so we can try to fight it and get back together, but that’s because I want to get back with you. If you don’t then you mustn’t.”

“I don’t think it would be healthy for us to get back together,” she said, bursting his bubble.

“I know. Too much has been said and done. We’ve caused each other too much pain. Staying together would keep digging at our wounds. I think it’s time for us to heal.” he said, his mind illuminated with acceptance.

“Yeah…” she said, “it would become really toxic if we stayed together. We can currently manage to live together if we’re not allowed to move out early, but if we stay together I think we’d both end up hating each other.”

“Speaking of that, if the estate doesn’t allow us to move out then I can give you all the space you need. I’ll still do everything I can to make your life as comfortable as possible.” he offered.

She rolled over to face him, “Thank you. I just can’t be spending all this time looking for a new place to live. The next few months will be very busy and important for me and I need to be able to focus.”

He beamed at her, “Even though it would be most cost-effective for me to leave, I’ll happily stay if it’ll help take the stress off you. I’ve caused you enough stress as is.”

“You have,” she said, only with a slight edge in her voice.

“And after our tenancy is up,” he announced, “we’ll just go and do our own thing. You will certainly do very well.”

“That’s why I need to focus on the coming months.” she determined.

“There’s no doubt you’ll do well. You’re a kind person and good things come to kind people,” he said warmly.

“You think I’m kind?”

“Of course. You gave me a chance when I told you I had been lying to you. You ignored your instincts to leave and stuck with me. We’ve broken up now so it doesn’t matter anymore, but the fact you tried to stay shows you’re kind.”

“But do you think good things come to good people?”

“Not always,” he retorted, “there are people who spend their whole lives doing the right thing only to be royally fucked over. While there are horrible people who get away. But I do believe most of the time good things happen to good people.”

“Do you think you’re kind?” she endeavoured.

“I definitely used to be. This past year, my hatred for my job, my financial stress, it’s all turned me into a very negative person and I think that may be affecting how my life is turning out. This is why this year I plan to unlearn all that pessimism and negativity. I want to try and be kind-hearted again.”

“You have a lot of work to do.” She quipped unironically.

“I know, but I have a goal and I can work toward it rather than bumping around aimlessly.” came his hopeful reply.

“Oh… what do you think the future has in store for us?” she asked uncertainly, almost affectionately.

He was caught off guard by this question. “Who knows? As far as we know we’ll probably live together till July and if we get back together during that time then great, but if we don’t then that’s also great because that meant we ended it where we were supposed to. No point in prolonging the inevitable.”

“You’re right,” she agreed happily, “and who knows, maybe we will get back together, but I don’t think it will happen soon.”

“And it shouldn’t.” he concluded, then adding as an afterthought, “but yeah, who knows?”

She didn’t reply as she had departed for her dreams. He lay there for a moment, nostalgia smothering him. Their sleepless conversation felt like many similar ones they had while still together. When one of them couldn’t sleep they’d keep the other up to talk until they grew tired enough to sleep. Some of the most frank and open conversations they had while laying on their backs in the dark and just sharing how they felt. He always felt like they drew closer after having such late-night chats.

Soon after he had drifted off to sleep too, completely at the mercy of time which would inexorably carry them towards the healing and freedom they both need.