A few more months passed; it was Christmas vacation, and we had made plans for New Years Eve. That day I called Fiona; I always did the calling. She was quiet and her tone was off; she talked awhile, and then said, “We have family coming over, you can’t come anymore.” I was upset because she had known for a while, but hadn’t said anything until now.
I’d been looking forward to visiting her; I’d never spent New Year’s with a girlfriend before. Fiona said she was sorry; I was quiet for a moment, and then said, “It’s alright.” I went on, “Happy New Years, good bye Fiona.” Hanging up the phone I was pissed, this wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t so bad that she canceled, it was that she knew, and had waited until the last minute to say anything.
My hopes of finding happiness in another person, a girlfriend, turned out to be hopeless. I was still depressed; in fact I was more depressed now then I’d been in the past. It seemed that having a girlfriend actually made life worse.
There were problems it seemed; we were both unhappy. We were bringing half people to the table, trying to form a whole. We needed to be happy with ourselves in order to have a good relationship. A working relationship will have happy people, not unhappy people looking for happiness in someone else.
I started to want change; I talked about leaving school and moving somewhere to start new. This was irrational, and with some pushing I realized that dropping out with only a year left wasn’t wise. It may have been the consequences or what my father said; regardless I didn’t take action. Then I considered moving out and living somewhere else for the year. A new setting a new beginning?
At the time I wasn’t sure how I’d developed this sense of depression and desire to leave. It was pushing me, and I felt the need to do something about it. I didn’t know what the problem was, so I didn’t know what to do.
It was a Tuesday night, David and I walked to the grocery store; we were fans of sweets and candy. David looked at me, and I could tell that he had something to say; he seemed concerned. He asked, “You’ve talking a lot about wanting to leave… why? Don’t you like us? Is it school?” Hesitant I thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t know, I feel stuck and don’t want to be stuck anymore.” David inquired, “Stuck? What do you mean?” I seemed to have an answer, “Saturated and have no control, like I’m doing this because I have to not because I want to.”
David went on; he seemed to know more about me then I did. “You keep on changing your mind; one day you want to do this, the next you want something else. It seems like you just want to get out of town.” He was right, I tried to respond. “I love this town and the school but I need to get out now”. A look of inspiration came over David’s face, I could tell he had something profound to say. “You keep on talking about wanting to leave, but your plans never involve Fiona.” He stopped to see if I was still paying attention. He continued, “Maybe all these ideas are just ways to get away from her. Maybe you’re just too afraid.”
A couple of days later I was thinking of what David said; it made sense, and I didn’t really want to leave. It was also true that all of the ideas involved leaving without Fiona. I suddenly had an insight. ‘Fiona makes me unhappy. I want to leave not to get away from school or my house mates, but to get away from her’. I wanted her to be the problem, she was an easy target. I knew what I had to do. I just had to figure out the how, when and where.
The next day we had plans to go on a date, of course it wasn’t a date, we had been a couple for two years. That was one of the things about Fiona, she took up so much time, but it wasn’t the time it was that we did nothing while we were together. It was a complete waste of time; I never had the time to do what I wanted. At least that’s what I told myself; she was an easy excuse.
As the bus pulled away from the mall, Fiona looked in my direction and asked, “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know, it’s been a long day.” She could tell that something was wrong, so she asked again, “What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?” She stopped for a moment, looking distressed she continued, “You’ve been like this for days. I’m concerned, what’s wrong?” I wasn’t ready, I hadn’t planned for this. “Let’s wait until we get back to my house.” The bus was empty, I could have stopped this, but it was too late.
“I don’t want to wait; we should talk about it now.” She was getting upset. I wasn’t planning on talking about this but she was. Fiona had more courage; she was beginning to tear. “We can talk about this now.” I was scared; I’d never done this before. Spitting it out, I said, “Fiona I can’t do this anymore, you make me unhappy.” I failed to realize that I was making myself sad.
The more time I spent with her the more I wanted to leave; I was trying to change everything but myself. Fiona started to cry, it was getting harder, and she said “I knew this was going to happen. I planned to do it before the summer.” A shoot to my ego, but it helped. She was thinking the same; this was going to make things easier. We were getting close to the house, pulling the wire the bell rings. We got off and walked towards the door.
Down the stairs into the basement, we talked for hours. We realized that we both want the same thing. Coming at a convenient time, it worked well for both us. Fiona picked up a few things from the basement and headed to the door. Putting on her shoes, she said, “Good bye.”
I felt a heavy weight lift off my chest. Taking a step towards happiness, realizing that I wanted something she could not give. I had to find it within myself. Thinking out loud, ‘no one else can make you happy but yourself.’
Fiona was no longer one of my excuses.
