Our Ending (story by Jill prompted by Jennifer's photo)

Jennifer gave me this photo as my prompt on November 29, 2021. It’s Niagara Falls with Canada on the right and the United States on the left. They’re physically so close but different. Since the photo has a somber feel to me, it made me think of the last piece I wrote for the blog (Here on This Bench) and how that relationship ended. And this is what I wrote.

Our Ending

    I’m not proud of how I reacted when I ran into Dylan two months after we had stopped dating. In my defense, he had broken my heart when he put our relationship on hold so that he could work on himself. But the idea—at least the one he had presented to me—was that he wasn’t in a place to date anyone and that when he was, we would give things a go again. 

    My heart had been broken in that moment. I mean, I hoped that we would find ourselves together again, but a part of me knew that moment had been the ending.

    We communicated for a couple weeks, even saw each other a time or two more—as friends. And as hard as that was, it was also okay on some level as I thought it had shown me that maybe he really had cared and that we really would find ourselves back together.

    But then he sort of shut me out, and I had to face the fact that a romantic reunion may no longer be where we were headed. That realization—that we weren't actually on hold, but that we were over—was the second time my heart had been broken.

    But the final heartbreak happened the moment when I wandered into a coffee shop and saw him at a table with a woman snuggled up beside him. Here I had taken him at his word when he had said that he needed time to work on himself before dating again. Sure I had realized that for whatever reason he was no longer into me, and that hurt. But I never had imagined that he had been dating someone else all along. I felt like such a fool with that realization. 

    She was leaning into him whispering something into his ear, and he was grinning in his sheepish way when I walked up to them. “Hey, Dylan,” I said, standing in front of them at their table.

    He looked up at me, and the look of shock on his face when he saw me stabbed me even more. It told me that I hadn’t just misunderstood him. He knew (like I knew) that he had left things with us being on hold. He had asked me to wait, and he had never actually said he was no longer interested in dating me. “Hadley,” he said quietly and then looked down at his hands.

    I looked at the woman, who appeared to have no clue what was going on. “Hi, I’m Hadley. I’m the woman who Dylan still has on a perpetual hold.”

    “What,” she said and looked at him. “What’s going on, Dyl?”

    He looked at her. “Rebecca, uh, this is Hadley. We, uh, used to date.”

    “Used to?” I said. “Well, I guess that answers that then, Dylan. There’s the ending I’ve been waiting for.” I shook my head. “Rebecca, let me explain things for Dylan as he’s clearly not capable of honestly articulating this situation. The truth is he put our relationship on an indefinite hold a couple months ago, so that he could work on himself before he was able to date me again.” I used air quotes around work on himself. “That was the last I heard of it.” 

    She looked from me to him, and I directed my attention to his face, as well. He couldn’t make eye contact with me, or her. He sat there staring at his hands. So I continued, “But I never got that final word from you, Dylan. I mean, you never had the courtesy or, I guess, the guts to be honest with me and let me know that you actually didn’t need a break from dating. You just wanted a break from me.”

    He still just stared at his hands, and I added, “Dylan, you know it is okay to give something an ending. I would have appreciated it. Last I heard you were working on yourself, and you had asked me if I would wait for you.” Then I added, “You had said you wanted me to wait for you.” 

    He still wouldn’t look at me and just sat there, shaking his head. And I hated him at that moment.

    I had hated the way he had made me feel when he had put us on hold. Hated the way I allowed him to make me feel for the past couple months. But mostly I hated the way I felt at that moment—that moment when I had confirmation of how little I had actually meant to him. 

    “So, I guess, this is it, Dylan. This is our ending.” I stared at him for a few seconds longer, willing him to look at me. But he wouldn’t, so I turned and walked to the counter, picked up my coffee, and left.

    I wasn’t proud of how I handled things when I walked out, and I’m still not when I allow myself to think about that moment. Sometimes I wish I had asked to speak to him privately, and I always have wondered if he would have indulged me. 

    Maybe, if he had, he could have looked me in the eyes. Maybe he could have even apologized.

    Probably not. But I’ll never know.

—Jill Cullen (written 12.5.21)