Summer Chic Lit: Diary of a Breakup, Chapter 2

A recap of the story so far: Jade has just broken up with her longtime college boyfriend Justin. She's had to move back in with her parents and is fuming that Justin is continuing their fun summer plans without her. So why has Justin suddenly shown up at her home? Does he want to talk, or perhaps even reconcile? To read chapter 1 of "Diary of a Breakup" in its entirety, click here.

Bastard! That low down bastard! He only came here just to return the kissing fish I bought him for Valentine’s Day and pick up the jeep so he can go to his parents’ summerhouse. Damn him! Returning a gift someone bought you just because the two of you aren’t together anymore is just petty. He had acted like he loved those fish!

I was shocked when my mom called me to tell me he was downstairs. I mean I didn’t imagine my first meeting after I left would be like this. I was in my Victoria’s Secret Pink sweatsuit and looked a little disheveled after moving my things. After hearing he was downstairs, silly feelings of love took over my semi-bitter heart. I ran downstairs barefoot like a heroine in one of those Harlequin novels, so my prince could swoop me up and take me to our castle to live happily ever after.

Reality is never like those sappy, trashy supermarket romance novels. I ran outside to see him in the driveway standing by the Pacifica holding the fish--and he looked devastatingly good. He had on a turquoise polo shirt, Diesel jeans, and dark blue suede Pumas. His hair was freshly cut and his waves were nice and deep, and GOD how his caramel arms and face just beamed in that turquoise. Ok Jade…pull yourself together. DAMN though, he looked good!

I think my mouth hung open for a minute as I wondered how he got himself and the fish to my parent’s house. Then I saw his homeboy Skeeter sitting in his candy apple red Acura. He and Skeeter have been tight since the hospital nursery. They did everything together, including leaving Buckhead, Georgia to go to NYU. Skeeter’s father is CFO of Justin’s father’s company.

“Hey Skeeter,” I said looking past Justin.

“What up Jay squared!” Skeeter said, sticking his head out of the window. Everybody called us JJ because of our names, but Skeeter loved to call me Jay squared because he said that I was Justin’s other half.

Speaking in my calmest voice I said, “What are you doing here? I didn’t think I would see you today.” All the while I was thinking to myself, please say you want me to come home, please.

Justin looked me directly in my eyes with a piecing cold gaze. “Jade,” he says in his southern drawl, “I came to pick up the Pacifica and to give you the fish. Me and Skeeter are going up to the Cape tonight and I need the car.” I knew he was still angry--his accent gets thicker when he is pissed.

“Well, why can’t Skeeter drive y’all then?” My eyes began to squint and I tightly drew my lips together.

“Skeeter has something to do first and I want to leave right now. And besides I wanted you to keep the fish. No one is going to be in the apartment, and they'll die. I’m staying at the Cape all summer. I need some time to get my mental state together.”

His eyes looked me over like I was a stranger, like we weren’t spooning in bed just two weeks ago. He kept his monotone southern drawl the whole time. I used to love his accent, but now it makes me nauseous.

“Okay, give me the fish and I will get your keys.” I snatched the bowl from his hands. Some water spilled out. As I turned I could hear him say, “Here comes the drama.”

I stomped into the house and made a beeline to the dining room. I slammed the bowl on the dining room table. More water spilled out. I snatched the keys from off the dining room table and stomped back outside. I was furious. My mom looked at me like I needed a straight jacket. I stomped back in front of Justin and tossed him his keys. His eyes bulged and he began to shake his head. I threw him the peace sign and turned to go back to the house. I shouted, “Have a ball!” as I went in the house and slammed the door.

I stomped through the house as though I had steel toe boots on. Stomped up the stairs back to my room and slammed the door. I stomped through my room until I stubbed my baby toe on one of my mom’s free weights. It swelled up like a gherkin, and felt my eyes fill with tears. I limped to the bathroom and washed my face. I limped back to my room and grabbed my cell phone. I noticed Justin left me a text message. It read, WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE DRAMA. I’M TIRED.

He’s tired, he needs to go away because of his "mental state"...all he cares about is himself. I’m the one that had to leave my home and go back to live with my parents. I’m the one that had to pack and unpack three years worth of stuff in one day. He asked me to leave, so why is his mental state messed up, and how dare he go through with the plans of going to the Cape with out me?

I wanted to call him back and show him what the word drama really meant. I didn’t. I have bigger fish to fry right now. We are over and I’m moving on.

I typed in "BO" in my cell phone for "book boy." I met him three weeks ago at Barnes and Noble. Note to self, stop meeting men at bookstores (that's also where I met Justin). Book boy was cute, tall, and had a swimmer's physique. I was feeling vulnerable the day I met him. Justin and I just had an argument because he had stayed out all night with my girlfriend. That was the final straw, and the camel’s back has been breaking ever since. Book boy and I have been talking off and on since then. He makes me forget about the things that are going on with Justin and he thinks I look like Kelly Rowland. He has been asking to go out with me, but I have been stalling. I’m a free woman now. I can do whatever I want.

I set up a date with book boy for later on tonight at Sushi Samba. I need ice for my toe so I can wear my sexiest stilettos. Think it is time to break out my “freakum” dress, something red and backless. I’m going out.

***************

Afrika Brown is a senior at Kean University in New Jersey and has published a book of poetry, Sepia Sapphire.

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