My Ex-Bestfriend

Prologue

I bolt through the door as another guttural sob releases like a tidal wave as I kick my stilettos across the floor. My eyes sting from the saturated mascara seeping around my eyes.
He didn't even notice I used FREAKING MASCARA?! How could he have when he barely looked at me. Whats wrong with how I look? He didn't seem to mind this whole week.

Dad comes bolting up from his recliner, " What's broken?!" He bellows.

That just shows how much I lack a feminine bone in my body that my own father thinks that I am seriously injured, maimed, decapitated in order to be barreling through the door in full hysterics. I can't blame him for that assessment. The last time I made such a dramatic entrance my ankle was cocked at an unnatural angle and I required surgery. Tonight though I wish I was only broken bone deep but my core has been shattered. Nothing to mend or realign, there is now an open wound of despair.

Dad pulls me to his chest as a few more gut wrenching cries escape from my mouth. My tears soaking his flannel shirt. It's moments like this I wish my Mom was still here. I could talk to her about what's been going on. She would understand, listen, and give advice. Maybe I could have avoided tonight all together if I had had her womanly wisdom for guidance.

I peek up at my dad who's face is panic stricken. Eyes frantically sweeping over me assessing for signs of damage. We don't embrace often so even this is foreign to him. My sides ache from the chaffing of this damn Prom gown and I want to rip it off and burn it. I won't though because it's too sentimental.

We separate and I march up the stairs with new found vengeance coursing through my limbs. I need to seize this opportunity to end this once and for all. There's nothing he can say or do that will ever repair our relationship now.

My dad is still trying to survey what possibly has caused this response. My tears blur my vision but even so I know it's there. The rope ladder that has hung outside my window for a decade. A passageway into my room and unmistakably my heart. It use to be my life line carrying the weight of my best friend, neighbor, unrequited love.

I whip my head around and bark,  "Get me your work scissors!"  My dad, a retired veteran, hears an order and springs to action. This he can do. He can't fix my broken heart but he can do this.

Seconds go by and I can hear his thunderous steps climbing back up the stairs as he hands me the scissors. I do something that I never in my life, thought I would ever do or had the strength to do. I sever the rope and let the ladder crash to the ground. I slam the window shut and lock the latches. Tears flowing freely. With the last bit of strength I could muster I give my dad one last order, " I NEVER want to see Michael James again, EVER!" Words I never thought I would utter my entire life.

He blinks a few times trying to connect the dots and nods in understanding. He takes my command to heart more than I would ever come to know. Like a guard dog he retreats down stairs to patrol the doorway.

I unzip my lilac dress down letting it fall to the floor into a billowy pile of fluff. I take off the god awful strapless bra that irritated me to no end all night. I have barely become use to a regular bra and strapless is a whole other ordeal. I pull on my armor; my basketball shorts and a big t-shirt. I need safety and familiarity.

I look in the mirror and assess the damage. Bloodshot eyes, red drippy nose, and black streaks down my cheeks. All of this because I thought for once Michael James finally saw me, REALLY saw me. I thought our love would be the stuff of Hollywood movies but it turned out to be a cruel misfortune. How did I or really WE let it get to this .....