Leftover Spaghetti

“Dear Joshua,…”

My fingers tremble as I type these words in an email addressed to %$#&(&. “This is stupid” I say aloud as I roll my eyes and my insecurities begin to take over.

My heart begins to beat more rapidly; pounding against the inside of my chest as I become more anxious.

I’ve been going through this for weeks.

The constant doubt and anxiety have been torturous. The many scenarios of what could come from this simple little email have been floating around my head the entire time causing merciless haunted dreams of tainted memories. But the day has come; it’s September 10th, his birthday.

As my fingers hover motionless over the keyboard and I stare blankly at the torturous cursor blinking mockingly at me I can’t help but drift into the memories of moments we shared.

It had been raining all day so we decided it was finally time to see the very talented and very sexy Robert Downy Junior in Sherlock Holmes and it was everything we had hoped it would be. It had the perfect mixture of comedy, action, and romance. Despite how much we enjoyed the movie I managed to cry throughout the entire thing; although, lucky for me, Josh didn’t seem to notice.

The ride home wasn’t much different from the movies with both of us riding silently and me staring out the window with tear filled eyes. When I turned to kiss him goodnight he noticed the streaks of tears running down my face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Nothing...”

“There’s obviously something wrong”

I sniffled, pulled away from him and said “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not.”

“So, you don’t want to break up anymore?”

“Not tonight.”

“Oh, that’s comforting.”

He sighed and looked away. “I don’t you want to be upset. I’m not breaking up with you tonight.”

“But you still want to break up” I said, my voice cracking.

“I don’t know it’s just, nothing’s really changed”

It wasn’t long before this sad, pathetic, yet polite conversation turned into yelling then into screaming. At one point my Ruby Tuesday’s chicken alfredo left over’s went flying towards the back of Josh’s Subaru station wagon. White sauced fettuccine noodles hung from the rear window while the rest exploded all over the car creating a wonderful mess.

“So, what do you want?” I finally asked, trying to control my tears and catch my breath.

“I want to break up.” He said completely monotone, exhausted from the recent hours spent arguing.

I nodded vigorously and closed my eyes tightly, fighting away the tears. I then opened my eyes and silently allowed tears to run down my face and drip off my chin.

“Okay.” Josh broke the silence.

He pulled on the door handle and the interior light flicked on temporarily blinding us. Slowly, he opened the door. I followed his lead into the cold dark winter night and met him at the back of the car. We stood there silently for a moment then I leaned in for a hug. Josh once again wrapped his arms around me. It was an insincere hug but I held on tight regardless.

When I finally released my grip we dropped our arms. I looked up at him and whispered a faint good bye.

“Yeah,” he said. I then slowly made my way to my front door.

That was nine months ago. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.

And now, here I sit, seemingly mindlessly staring at my laptop screen. I find myself at a loss for words and fighting off the urge to cry. I’m completely crippled by my fear, terrified of what he’ll think, what he’ll say, what he’ll do.

I tap on the backspace button several times hoping that the motions of my fingers on the keys will get my brain up and running again. “Alright, let’s try this again,” I think to myself. I think of the simplest thing I can possibly say and begin tapping away again.

“Dear Joshua,

I know we don’t talk anymore but I just wanted to say happy birthday.

I hope you have a great day and that you are doing well.

Sincerely,

Margo”

There were so many other things I wanted to write, so much more that needed to be said that made this little birthday email seem so inadequate. I can’t even begin to describe how much I want to sign it “love” instead of “sincerely”, how much I want to apologize yet again for the series of events that led to our downfall, or how much I want to tell him absolutely everything he’s missed in the past nine months and how much I missed my best friend.

But he’s heard it all before. He knows how much I love him, I’ve already apologized countless times, and the email itself tells him just how much he is missed that is, if he ever gets it.

I read over the email several times then I touched my finger to the touchpad and drug down until the mouse on the screen hovered over the send button.

I deeply breathed in, then out and lightly tapped the touchpad; send.