Memorıes Lıke These

Chapter One

"It’s not you, it’s me."    

I sighed and my shoulders sunk. I looked at Emma as she gave me a sympathetic look. She knew she didn’t need to go on, I knew what was coming.

"I’m so sorry, Tristan…" She said.

Emma and I had been together for two years. It was quite a while for a teenager relationship, yet, Emma didn’t seem as hurt as I was. I was crushed, hollow inside. She was dumping me? Just like that and with no remorse whatsoever. 

"You’re such a great guy, Tristan." Emma said and I stopped her.

"Just stop, Emma."

"I don’t deserve you!"

"Don’t try and make this about how much better I am than you. I’m not. We’re the same. We deserved each other, Emma. That’s why we were together for two years." I said, my voice getting thick as the tears stung my eyes.

It still confused me as to why Emma looked fine. She could at least shed a tear when saying goodbye to the guy she’s been dating for two years.

"Can we still be friends?" She asked. She looked at me with the big brown eyes I knew so well. The eyes I fell in love with. The eyes I would see when she woke up beside me on the couch when we had our movie sleepovers. The eyes I would see when she smiled widely at me. The eyes that always blinked at me when we kissed. The eyes that weren’t clouded with tears and were still shining brightly.

Why was she not crying?

"I don’t think that’s going to work." I told her abruptly. My voice was losing it’s steadiness and my vision was becoming more blurry as the tears threatened to escape the confirms of my eyelids and roll down my cheek. I was an ugly crier. And if something really upset me, like, say, my girlfriend of two years breaking up with me, I could cry for days. Lock myself in my room and sob heavily into my pillow.

My mom liked to think of me as ‘emotional’. My brother liked to think of me as a ‘sensitive baby’.

"Oh. Okay." Emma said. "Well, again, I’m sorry."

She didn’t look sorry..

Emma moved in for a hug, which I thought was a handshake. Why? Why would I think she was shaking my hand? We ended up doing some awkward half hug, half handshake, half slapping each other’s arms, when I pulled away. Emma gave me a small smile, and I saw it. I saw the sympathy behind her eyes. I saw she was really sorry, but that’s all she was. She was sorry for crushing me, but she wasn’t upset. She wasn’t upset like I was.

That’s another thing about being an emotionally ugly crier. You hold your tears and emotions in until you’re alone.

"Bye, Tristan." She said, turning to walk off. I watched her. I watched as her legs moved in the faded blue jeans she always wore. I watched as her blonde hair flew behind her in the wind, and I watched as she looked behind her one last time. I’m glad I stayed to watch her leave, because otherwise I wouldn’t of seen her little wave and the cute smile she always did to me. It was her smile. Whenever I teased her jokingly, she’d pull it. Whenever I’d tell her she was amazing, she’d pull it. Whenever I’d tell her I loved her, she’d pull it before repeating the words.

That was all I needed. Not so much for hope, but for reassurance. As her figure got smaller and smaller until it disappeared, I stood still, trying to make sense of everything in my head. It wasn’t the best break up. I had to admit I didn’t take it so well and I probably won’t until 3 days later.

But maybe we could still be on good terms. We worked together so I’d be seeing her tomorrow anyway. I started walking home. I walked past all the houses, all the trees, all the people, without even noticing them. Once my house was in sight I ran at it and collapsed inside, taking off my shoes at the front door. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be alone, but it was dinner time, and we had visitors. So I wouldn’t be left alone till midnight.

——

"Tristan, what are you grateful for tonight?" Mom asked brightly. 

Every time she would ask me the same thing. Every night we sat at this table for dinner, we wouldn’t be able to eat until we said what we were grateful for. Usually Greg and I would say, ‘the food’. There was nothing else to say really.

I looked around the table and saw everyone looking at me. Mom’s friends included.

"Nothing. Life sucks." I mumbled.

You would of thought I just told everyone I was a serial rapist. The table erupted into gasps, but in actuality, it was just my mom gasping.

"Oh, Tristan. Why?"

"Oh he’s just sad cos his girlfriend dumped him." Greg said. "Can we eat now?"

"Thanks Greg." I said.

"Oh no! Emma? Oh dear…" Mom cried.

"Are you still friends?" Mom’s friend asked.

"Who’s Emma?" Dad asked.

I didn’t want to reply to anyone. I wanted to go up to my room and cry like I always did when I was upset. I was upset because I felt that I wasn’t good enough. I was upset because the love of my life left me. I was upset because she wasn’t even sad.

It was like she didn’t even care.

"Tristan?" 

"May I please be excused from the table?" I asked, standing up from my chair anyway.

Mom sighed but nodded. “Go ahead, love.”

I ran up to my room and sat on my bed. I stared at my wall and finally, after holding them in for so long, unleashed my tears.

——

"Morning, Tristan!" Brad grinned at me the next morning. How that guy managed to stay happy 24/7 was beside me. He lived life like working at the movie theatre was the best thing ever. I was just doing it for more money. I waved at Brad.

I took my place behind my usual counter, and refilled the ice machine like I always did. I looked around the makeshift theatre. There were cardboard cut outs of movie stars in pretty much every corner and red vinyl seats placed randomly. The food court outside the cinema doors was buzzing to life with people and a few customers started piling into the theatre. A few counters down, Emma stood behind a till. The ‘Seekers Theatre’ uniform shirt always looked a hundred times better on her than it did on anyone else. Her long, shiny hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail and she smiled at the elderly couple that stood on the other side of her counter.

Emma suddenly looked at me and she gave a small frown. The elderly couple left and walked towards the elevator and Emma walked over to me.

"Tristan, would you stop looking at me?"

"Um, sorry."

She sighed. “We can still be friends you know. We don’t have to be enemies now.”

"But it will be hard trying to not kiss you…"

She laughed. For the last time, or possibly not, I got to hear her laugh. And then she smiled at me. Her cute smile. The one I liked. But she didn’t reply to me. She just touched my arm and walked back to her counter and served the next customer. Why were all the customers going to her?

Did my angry expression scare them off? I couldn’t help it. I was in a foul mood. I just wanted to go back to my room and cry again.

I just wanted to be alone.