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It was a cold and rainy April morning, Philadelphia woke to yet another day, unbothered to the happenings of yesterday. The frigid wind whistled upon entering through the small and poorly insulated window in Charlie’s studio flat, who just so happened to still be draped in the covers of his bed, unwilling to start his day, tossing and turning to try and get some sleep.
With no result, of course, he had been awake since 6 AM, feeling incredibly tired, his body numb with exhaustion and his mind too active to be able to go back to dream land. Defeated, he decided to rise with a loud yawn and lazily reach for his smartphone, which was under his old hoodie, curled in a ball over his blankets. He squinted his black dot eyes when he looked at his phone, it took him some seconds to adapt to the luminosity of the screen.
The hour read 8:37, damn it was early, any other Saturday he would still be fast asleep, and he would stay that way easily until midday. He slid his finger down the screen, no notifications, he felt his gut twist with a sensation of emptiness and unease.
The previous day hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary until the night came along, the yellow critter and his girlfriend, Zoey, agreed to meet to hang out for a bit after they both got out of work. They hadn’t seen each other for easily a couple of months. Some would argue that was too much time to miss your partner, but for them it had become a painfully dull pattern that they grew accustomed to.
Charlie and Zoey met at the hour they used to see each other in their habitual spot, a park that was usually busy on the day, full of kids playing, shouting and running around their tired parents. Now said park remained completely empty apart from the both of them.
They sat in the swings, silence creating what would have been an intimate atmosphere between both the critter and the young woman under different circumstances. The only sounds present were the din of the engines of cars and motorbikes in the distance and the closer stridulation of crickets in the dark green little prairie next to the park.
Zoey finally spoke, breaking the silent ambience.
“Charlie, I think we should break things off” The woman’s sad gaze in what in some other time had been twinkling happy green eyes now piercing right through the critter’s heart.
“Wait- wait Zoey, why?” Even if he knew what they had was dying off that didn’t mean he wouldn’t ask for an explanation.
“Well… You know, we don’t see each other as much as we did, and I know we both are busy and all, but Charlie… I really don’t feel like you’re going the extra mile for this relationship. I feel like for a long time now I have been trying to keep alive the spark between us and- and I don’t think I can do it anymore” Zoey avoided his eyes, looking at the ground beneath her, swinging lightly in the swing’s seat, kicking a pebble that was within reach.
“But Zoey I tried, I really did!” He exclaimed, taking a hold of his winter jacket in the area near his heart with one of his hands.
Did he really? Even he himself doubted that. He had become accustomed to that monotonous kind of routine, stopped a while back showing initiative, forgetting that maybe their relationship couldn‘t survive simply from seeing each other once every couple of months and exchanging dry texts a couple of times a week. Perhaps there was more to it than solely those interactions. There was definitely more to it.
“I know Charlie, but I can’t continue like this, I- I feel like I’m pushing it, you know? I feel as if I’m forcing myself to stay here, in a relationship that didn’t always feel like a dead-end trap” Now she met his eyes, some tears threatening to spill into her freckled flushed cheeks. Charlie felt as a rock sinking to the bottom of the sea, gloom tortuously contorting his core.
The red-haired woman was right, it wasn’t always like this, there was a time in which seeing each other, talking, kissing, just being, brought butterflies and dizziness from being drunk in love to the couple.
Charlie remembers in the beginning they didn’t do out of the ordinary things full of detail and extreme effort, they just hang around, enjoying the time they spent next to one another, eating junk food in his couch or in his timeworn pickup truck, going on quiet nocturnal drives around the city, the music they both enjoyed flooding the car. When was the last time they did that?
Maybe Zoey was right. Probably she was. He may not have noticed, but she did, she was well aware of how time created a bigger distance between them with each passing day, the fire of what was once their connection now fading with no apparent possibility to rekindle it.
If only he could go back in time and take her hand, hold her closer, treat her better when he had the opportunity. To start all over and understand how to treasure it. The yellow critter beat himself up mentally over it, he always felt as if he was holding Zoey captive, he never deserved her, he knew it from the beginning and he let himself get used to the uncaring sameness.
He recklessly forgot that feeling of adoration he felt towards the woman and the insight about how she could be with anyone else but yet her heart chose him. The critter felt as if he had taken all of this for granted. Sadly those feelings of regret and unworthyness of Zoey’s love hadn’t flourished until that fateful night, way too late to repair what was long broken.
“Okay then- I- I guess I don’t want to keep you here, stuck by my side or anything” Now it was his turn to avoid her gaze, his tone of voice sounding way more scathing than the intended honesty he was going for.
A sigh left Zoey’s lips, it was one of those sighs she let out when she felt disappointed or defeated, which was probably the case. God, he even got accustomed to those sighs, he shouldn’t have, that couldn’t be something positive in any shape or form.
How long had their relationship been rotting under a facade of apparent casualness? Since when did the eccentric spark leave room for nonchalance? Guilt kept gnawing at the mouth of his stomach, he felt awful, he knew it was his fault, he let Zoey do the heavy lifting for too long and now she felt tired, he couldn’t blame her though, he knew he should have done things better.
“I’m sorry Charlie, I really am, I just- I don’t think we are good for each other in this day and age, you might be fine with this dynamic but I am not” Zoey stopped swinging to look at him with tired heartbroken eyes, Charlie returned the look, his lips curved downwards, his mind silent, completely numb emotionally, eyelids seemingly heavier than before, he felt uneasy in his own skin.
Another uninvited silence appeared, deepening the distance between them. After a couple of minutes that felt like hours the critter broke the silence.
“But we could still keep in contact, right? You know, like- I don’t know, we could be friends and all that stuff” Charlie suggested, the word friends burning in his tongue, leaving behind a bitter taste “Just- just like we were before” Yeah, sure, before all started to fall apart.
Could they really achieve that level once again without making things tense and awkward? Clearly not, but there was a tiny bit of hope when he proposed it and Zoey nodded lightly with a sad smile on her face.
That brings us to the present, Charlie was seated at the edge of his bed with his phone in one hand, the other massaging his temples. The remorse and self- reproach still poisoning his mind and squeezing his heart in a fist, he felt as if his pacemaker was about to fail at any moment.
How did he let this happen? When did he stop caring? What was he supposed to do now? Were things really going to be back to how they were before they started dating? All these questions were spinning inside of his brain, causing the start of an uncomfortable brain-splitting headache.
He decided to get up and start his day with a cold shower, that would surely help him, something about how they help increase his levels of endorphins and noradrenaline, Pim told him that some time ago. Charlie really hoped it was true, he was in desperate need of those feel-good hormones.
The yellow critter had no idea if that cold shower helped in any way to the inside of his organism, but outside he felt chilly and sore, way worse than before. He sluggishly put on his usual clothes, his black- now greyish from all the use- pants, his white comfy sneakers, a well-worn tank top and his only clean orange hoodie, the one on top of the covers of his bed, the one that still smelled like her.
When he picked up on the scent he felt his stomach twisting, a deep hollowness extending inside of his gut. He needed to make his laundry as soon as possible, that couldn’t be the only hoodie clean he had left. So, he rushed with his breakfast, which consisted of a watered-down coffee that would surely- likely- help him stay awake throughout the day.
With a trash bag full of dirty clothes, his hood over his head to avoid getting soaked, his keys and his half-charged phone he exited his flat headed for the nearer laundromat, a little local 7 minutes away in which he had been countless times throughout the years he spent in his apartment.
One of the last times he was there it was in the company of his now ex-girlfriend, when she got her beautiful red dress stained with wine last Valentine’s day. What a romantic plan, going to the laundromat together after a meal in a fancy restaurant in which they spent the majority of time in silence, not really enjoying neither the relaxed ambience nor the sumptuous and ridiculous bite-sized portions of food in their plates.
Charlie spent over an hour inside the laundromat, the smell of lavender dish soap plagging his nose, the rain pouring furiously outside, he looked at the forecast in his phone, great, a thunderstorm that showed no signs of easing up soon. He turned off the screen of his smartphone, bored of the nothingness that failed to entertain him in the device and introduced it to his hoodie pocket. Damn, he forgot to get that hoodie inside of the washing machine too.
No more than two minutes went by when he realized he had to get himself distracted somehow, him and the silence didn’t get along right at this moment. He couldn’t be alone with his thoughts, not now, not any time soon.
Taking advantage of his solitude in the laundromat he decided to put some music on his phone so that it would engulf down the lack of noise apart from the ones of the single washing machine working.
Unfortunately the critter clicked on the very first playlist that appeared in his recommended feed, a Mac DeMarco compilation of songs that Zoey loved to play in his phone using the aux-in those nights they used to stay in the car talking, eating drive-thru food and enjoying the warmth and coziness of the reduced space of Charlie’s vehicle. Christ, everything reminded him of her.
Ironically “A Heart Like Hers” started playing, followed by “Treat Her Better”. Charlie could already hear the universe laugh at the cost of the misery he struggled to keep buried deep down. The yellow critter didn’t particularly enjoy this genre of music, but nonetheless he let it play, not even trying to make the slightest of efforts to change songs, allowing the indie rock inundate the dimly lit and empty self-service laundry.
Forgetting about what they had had was going to be difficult, he knew it, and even worse, forgetting how he messed up was going to be even more difficult, knowing how he should have made things differently, how he should have treated her better, how he should have sacrificed himself a bit just in the interest of the maintenance of their bond.
Now it was all gone for good, said special bond had been dead for a very long time and just recently laid to rest under the grave soil of a mutual friendly breakup. Would time heal the wound that had been bleeding for a good while without him noticing the pang of pain in his core?
If you asked Charlie a month and a half later he would say that no, clearly time wasn’t helping at all and people lied when used to allege that. Every once in a while he woke up in the middle of the night, cold sweat in his forehead and his recent dream messing with his head. Sleepy illusions consisting in old memories looped repeatedly.
Sometimes he dreamt about their first date, their first kiss, awkward and clumsy as ever, but nonetheless sweet at its time, now bitter under a layer of melancholy and absence. In his sleep he could still feel her fingers running caringly through his hair, her lips on his face, her arms around him, the sugary smell of her strawberry-scented shampoo, the sound of her gentle respirations when she dozed off snuggling to his side in his lived-in couch and the softness of her hands under his own sweaty palms.
He really missed her, but that was something between him and God, he wasn’t going to go moping around, that’s why he had been distracting himself when lonely and acting nonchalant when in company. It was killing him inside, he spent his days mourning what he had lost for the very reason of his stubbornness and slacker attitude, always too afraid of getting attached to something he knew was ephemeral, too scared of committing to a relationship doomed to fail one way or another.
The worst part came on an unsuspected and boring saturday of mindless doomscrolling and snooping around on instagram, when he came across a publication of Zoey, he intended to close his eyes, ignore it and continue surfing his feed without giving it a second thought, but his impulses and curiosity got the better of him, persuading him to enter in her profile.
The image that appeared at the top of her page caught his attention, it was recent, he knew that because it wasn’t there four days ago, when he last checked her profile, not being able to help himself. It was a photo of her, wearing that evening gown, the scarlet red sweetheart dress that hugged beautifully her breathtaking silhouette.
His heart stopped for a nanosecond and he felt his hands go clammy, nervousness eating at him, he started dissociating, his sight lost somewhere in the screen. There she was, looking as gorgeous and happy as ever, a smile in her crimson lips illuminating her features, the kind of smile he got from her when he told a silly joke, making her giggle.
Oh how he missed her laugh. It seems like somebody took that candid photo of her when she wasn’t paying attention, apparently talking with someone else. He always knew she was photogenic, but damn that was something else.
In contrast there he was, in his undone messy bed, surrounded by his blankets and empty takeout containers, in his stinky old white undershirt and boxers, with nothing interesting to do, listless and exhausted. What would Zoey be up to? They hadn’t really talked since they called it quits. Charlie was sure she must be happier than him, looking that good she couldn’t possibly be having a rough time.
Suddenly a message appeared on his screen, popping his bubble of delusion. Speaking of the devil, Zoey sent him a message. He threw the device to the floor in a rash movement, taken aback by the coincidence. The critter started to panic right away. Did he accidentally like her photo? Could she know he was poking his nose on her profile? Had she realized somehow how much Charlie thought of her? Would she have some kind of telekinetic powers to do that?
After a couple of minutes of ragged breaths and mulling over innumerable “what if’s” he built the courage to pick up his phone from the floor and take a look at the message she sent, which read like this: “Hey Charlie, how have you been? Just writing to ask if it would be okay for me to go to your apartment to get a shirt I left behind”
The yellow critter spent a long minute reading over and over again the text. A shirt? Which one?, so he asked just that, avoiding the other questions referring to his well-being, getting the next reply “The black “B-52’s” shirt with the red lobster illustration”
Oh, that one. Charlie loved that one. He remembers buying it for her on their first year anniversary, how she hugged him when he gave her the messily wrapped present, how her eyes acquired a beautiful sparkle when seeing the shirt of one of her favourite bands and how pretty she looked in it, all smile-y and joyous.
Now he had to give it back. That shirt had been long forgotten by him, but now that he remembered he knew it was going to hurt to give it back, a piece of his heart attached to that simple item of clothing.
“Sure, when are you gonna come get it?” He dryly responded. “Tomorrow evening? On Monday I guess we both work so it’ll be better that way” She texted back. “Okay, see you then” He answered and turned off the screen of his phone. No new messages came by after the one he sent, which remained read.
The hollow conversation felt unfamiliar to the yellow critter. How did they come to this, to talking again like two strangers? How could he ever think everything would go back to “normal” as if nothing happened? What was even normal in their relationship? Could they even be considered friends at this point? That thought alone haunted him.
Charlie’s golden watch read 8 o’clock, the Sunday evening came. He found himself pacing around the flat, nothing on TV to distract him and his phone long overused throughout the day to amuse him anymore. When was Zoey going to arrive? Why was he so nervous?
He already took a soapy shower to get rid of any bad body odour and even cleaned around his apartment exhaustively. The critter knew better than to think that his ex was going to enter his flat, but nonetheless he wanted her to see everything neatly organized and clean from his doorway.
Suddenly the buzzer of the lobby rang, she was here. Charlie ran to the intercom system and waited around ten seconds, counting mentally, just to avoid looking desperate. Then, when those ten seconds passed he pressed the button that opened the front door to let Zoey inside the block of apartments.
The yellow critter rushed to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, brushed his hair a bit, adjusted his cap and then got out, not without forcing some fake smiles and deciding they were good enough to come across as if he was okay with any of this.
Some seconds later he heard three light knocks in his wooden front door. Was he really ready to face the girl he lost to his lackadaisical attitude? Clearly not, that’s the conclusion he reached when he opened the door and his gaze met the image of Zoey.
She was wearing a crimson blouse with some black bell bottom jeans and those red converse she found so comfortable. Her wavy dyed orange hair- which, Charlie thought to himself, had grown longer since the last time they saw each other- fell gracefully under her shoulders.
“Hey Charlie, what have you been up to?” She started. Charlie had missed her voice, how she said his name. He could feel each and every heartbeat of his excited overworking heart.
“Oh you- you know, work and all that stuff, same as usual, making people smile and ehh… yeah” Charlie could hear his voice shaking, heck, she must have noticed too by the look of sympathy painted in her eyes, a timid smile creeping in her lips.
“That’s good, Charlie, really good” Zoey responded, nodding, her eyes glued to his own.
A brief silence, just as awkward and noticeable as those they experienced a month ago in that lonesome park.
“And… Do you have my shirt?” She asked with an inquisitive look.
Crap, he forgot she was there because of that. Of course.
“I’ll go get it!” He exclaimed while running to his bedroom and opening his wardrobe.
There it was. He should have left it nearby so that when she asked he could hand it to her and get this over with. Maybe subconsciously he was dreading that moment, the goodbye, having to acknowledge that she was there because of the shirt, that there were no second opportunities, not now, not ever.
“Here you go, your Rock Lobster shirt” Charlie said with a regretful smile on his face. Their hands made contact during the seconds in which the exchange took place. The yellow critter couldn’t help stop what left his mouth next “You looked so happy the first time I gave it to you, remember? Look at us now, who- who would have thought things would end up like this?”
Fuck.
He wanted to close the door, bury himself under the covers of his bed, hibernate for a hundred years and forget any of those humiliating words ever left his mouth. He would even be willing to go back to hell if that meant he could erase what he just said from Zoey’s memory.
Was he being dramatic? Maybe he was.
Zoey looked at him sadly while she played with the soft fabric between her fingers of the shirt Charlie just handed to her. Her gaze went from the ashamed and flustered critter in front of her, to the floor of the entry, to the shirt and lastly back to Charlie.
“I am so sorry Charlie, I really am. I want you to know that I really enjoyed the time we shared together, all the little things we had in common” Another silence, those were starting to become more common between them than spoken words “You were not a bad boyfriend, even if last time we saw each other I may have made it look that way it’s just that… I didn’t feel like we fit anymore together like we used to. You know? Our love just… Faded, and there was little we could do about it, at least that’s the way I see it”
“Well, like I- I gave it a a lot of thought too, and maybe I could have done more for this uh… for us” Wow, Charlie Dompler taking ownership? Well that was new.
“Maybe, Charlie, but what can we do now? I really think this is for the best, this way I don’t push you to do things you don’t feel like doing and I avoid feeling like I’m overwhelming you. It’s kind of a win-win…” The redheaded woman shrugged with a bittersweet smile.
“You might be right Zoey, I- I don’t know, I guess I just miss what we had” Charlie thrust his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, hunching over a bit.
“I know Charlie. I do too” She met his eyes once again, the gifted t-shirt still in her hands, fingertips taking in the feeling of the polyester fabric that seemed to have been recently laundered and freshly-pressed by the yellow critter in front of her.
And with that they said their goodbyes, promising each other they would hang out soon, both knowing full well that was probably not true. Charlie shut the entry to his flat behind him when the doors of the elevator in which the woman had entered closed. The last thing he set his eyes on was the look of Zoey smiling while looking at the shirt between her hands. She was happier now.
Some love still was left, he knew that. Maybe things could really get better, maybe things could be saved to the point they could be friends again. Who knows. In the meantime Charlie found himself experiencing a feeling of closure.
Strange, after all those days he spent thinking about his ex-girlfriend and bottling up his emotions just now he stopped feeling like he was trapped in a rabbit hole. Perhaps talking again with her about what happened and hearing her say how she was in an emotional situation similar to his served as balm to his wounded heart.
For now he would try to learn from his mistakes instead of ruminating on his past regrets, doing so relying on the unexpected glimmer of hope the small reconnection and brief talk with Zoey brought him.