Realization

"So how has work been going?" he asked, casually. The beginning of a conversation caught me off-guard, but I proceeded nonetheless.
"It's going well enough, I suppose. I really like working with the kids, but I could use more hours," I said, just as casually back.
"I always knew you'd be great with kids," he remarked. "You'll be a great teacher."

And with a simple conversation—a casual exchange of words, syllables, sounds—he ripped my heart in two. The casualness of our interaction, like we were old school mates reminiscing about the sandbox or simple church-goers making small talk after service, completely undermined our past and my feelings for him. I wanted to scream, to shake him, hit him until he realized what he’d done, to let the whole world know he had broken my heart. Instead, I smiled my casual smile and made a casual joke. I acted indifferent to his sappy one-month anniversary with his new girlfriend. I acted like he acted—like nothing had happened. Outside, I was casual, cool, collected. Inside, tormented, twisted, torn. I kept trying to end our flippant discourse, the rhetoric trying to convince me everything was fine when it really wasn’t. But he kept talking. Kept tormenting me. Kept hurting me.

            And I let him.

            Because the elation I felt while I could stand and look into his eyes, see his face, hear his voice, made the pain nearly worth it. For a moment, I could pretend that nothing did happen, or that everything had happened. Everything that I had ever wanted. That maybe we still had a chance. That you hadn’t torn me to pieces.

            But we both knew better than that. The unspoken, unmentioned uneasiness lingered between us, as solid and real as the front of the Durango that physically separated us now. The only real thing that kept me from tearing you apart, piece by piece. Or from loving you, touch by touch.

            I looked down. I fumbled with my keys. My casualness was wearing thin as my feelings came rushing back. Feelings I first had a year ago, exactly. I took one last look at him, I smiled. I laughed. I said goodbye. I felt outside myself. The car door opened. In right foot, in left. The door shut.

            Instantly, the tears came. The engine started, and left that place of torment as quickly as possible, as if vacating the area where this all took place would alleviate the pain. I tried to run, but I can’t run from my heart. I cried the whole drive home.

            He broke my heart and he didn’t even know it.