He and I broke up in high school. While we were broken up, the school put on this production of Sober Grad.
Sober Grad is a program which aims to educate teens about the reality of drunk driving accidents. They set up an accident, all the seniors arrive and see all their friends covered in blood looking like they were just in the accident. My best friend was selected as one of the two people who would “die” in this performance.
They really go all out putting this thing on, real drunk driving cars, people being driven off in ambulances, the drunk driver is arrested by the police and driven off to jail for the night where that person has to call their mom and have their mug shot taken.
Throughout the day leading up to the crash the grim reaper pulls selected seniors out of class and they have to dress in black, paint their faces white, carry around a gravestone and walk the halls all day, haunting the school and speaking to no one.
He was selected as one of these people.
On the day of the crash I had to run across campus to meet another friend who was hysterically crying because she saw the cars being set up and knew that our friend Kelsey would be acting her part in a matter of hours. We hugged, standing there shaking, looking at the cars and I remember everything suddenly feeling real.
I saw him walk the halls that day and it shocked me to see him “dead”.
The day after the crash, the students have to attend Kelsey and Christopher’s funeral, where their family and friends gather to speak about the death of each of these students. I cried silently through the entire thing.
At the end of the funeral, Kelsey and Christopher were allowed to join us again, and I remember grabbing her and telling her that I loved her so much and I would never change anything about her. So many of us were standing on the floor of the gym, crying and hugging one another, thankful to have those people back in our lives once more. Glad that the whole thing wasn’t actually real.
But I remember being aware of his every move, of watching and waiting to see if he would react to me, speak to me at all.
Much to my relief, he did. He grabbed me in the tightest hug I’ve ever felt and we cried. He told me he was sorry and I said I was sorry too. It was surreal.
Here we were, these two teenagers, really seeing that there were circumstances that were bigger than us. Realizing that what we were going through wasn’t that bad.
That hug broke the tension, and it somehow allowed us to speak again. Eventually, we got back together. But it took really looking at what it would be like to lose one another to really make us get over our ego and talk about what was wrong.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
Sometimes, when I’m being an idiot, I think about how graduation could do the same thing for us.
I’m not saying I want to get back together with him, because I don’t.
But sometimes I think that the joy of that day, the relief of college finally being complete would be enough for him to reach out and hug me again. Break the ice so that we could talk and be friends again.
That’s silly and wishful thinking and I know that.
But sometimes I still wish it could happen.
………………………………………………………………………………………….
But you know what the truth is? He’s done too much, too often, he’s gone too far. And if for some reason he suddenly decided to grow up and reach out and look me in the eye and hug me on graduation…
I’d walk away.
Honestly, I think I would. I think I’d duck right under his outstretched arms, or spin on the spot and flee.
Because if he wanted to be in my life bad enough he would be. And since he’s not. He doesn’t get to be whenever he chooses to be.
I have some control here. And right now, I don’t want him in my life.
Well, I suppose that’s not true, I do wish he could be in my life, or rather, I wish the old he could be in my life. But this new person? No thank you.
I’d rather walk away and be rude then get caught up in all that.
So that’s what I’ll do.
Because he doesn’t deserve it, I don’t owe him anything. And I’m better than all this.
So as romantic as history repeating itself might be in this case, I choose reality.
I’ve been forced into it by him, and if the situation presents itself, he’ll be forced to sleep in the bed he’s made by me.
breakupandbreakthrough 