COLUMN: For Jake: four days after our break-up

I didn’t think my “Before and After” column title would ever be so pertinent. But here I am — writing four days after the end of my relationship. Last Friday, Jake saw me checking my column on the Daily Trojan website and laughed at the headline “Confessions of a Serial Ghoster.” I got embarrassed and pulled my phone away, and when I apologized half an hour later, he said he’d already forgotten. But I know he knows where to find my column online. This week, part of me hopes he does.

But I know Valentine’s Day is coming up. In that sense, this isn’t really for Jake. This is for those who are hurting.

Day One: Jake arrived on my porch and didn’t kiss or hug me. Instead of coming inside, he asked to go for a walk. I laughed to myself because this seemed like a breakup (we were deeply in love and only four months in). We’d had a long conversation about communication on the phone the night before and when he had offered to come spend the night with me, I told him to stay where he was and focus on his work.

But on day one, he kept repeating, “I didn’t sleep last night.” I thought maybe someone had died. Instead, he took me right outside my gate and through tears he said, “Babe, I think we should break up.” He’d come to this conclusion since the phone call. I can’t help but wonder whether things would have been different if I had let him come over.

It lasted 30 minutes. I listened, waiting for closure, until I couldn’t listen any more. Then I turned away and walked inside. I caught his reflection in my front door window — a picture I knew would be the last — and went to my room to cry. My parents called to talk about my health issues. I told them I couldn’t talk because Jake broke up with me 12 minutes before. My mom said she’d expected more of him. I agreed. She asked if anyone saw it coming. My roommate, who was holding my hand, started to laugh. No one saw it coming.

I finally finished my Writing 340 draft that afternoon. I did readings for the upcoming week. We went to Ralph’s and my friends bought me a 6-foot plush caterpillar toy. I felt fine but was scared about what would happen when I went to bed.

I tried to fall asleep by counting backwards from 100 in French, but kept seeing his swollen, crying face and hearing the words, “Babe, I think we should break up” every time I closed my eyes. I woke up constantly throughout the night only to see that same image in my mind. In the morning, I threw up three times. The irony that he began that sentence with “babe” is not lost on me.

Day Two: After throwing up, I wrote in my new journal. At one point during our last conversation, I reminded Jake that once things ended, I wouldn’t speak to him. He told me I could write him a letter. So I wrote the letter. I called him the one word that had escaped me on day one: coward.

I approached my roommate Amy and asked her to sit with me; I finally let myself feel everything. On day one I felt confused, but day two I felt hurt. The week before, I had found out that I was ill again and how my illness was related to chemotherapy and my reproductive system.

Jake said we were incompatible. He couldn’t be there for me, and the timing was quite clear: I know this means Jake couldn’t handle it. So he bailed.

In Amy’s arms, I admitted how rejected and vulnerable I felt. I know I did nothing to deserve his weakness, but Jake hit me where it hurt the most.

I went to an interview and got offered an internship. I kept telling myself success was the best revenge, but an hour later I started wishing I could tell Jake the good news. Then I saw a video on Facebook of an otter sliding down a hill. I wanted to show that to him as well.

I tried my best to finish my dinner; I told two more friends what happened, and I cried and hugged my new caterpillar toy. My friend Lara, who had befriended Jake, cried too. We sat on my bed and shook our heads over the callous cowardice of the boy I’d grown to love and trust.

I slept more soundly on night two, but I had a nightmare about my upcoming surgery and how Jake won’t be there.

Day Three: I woke up feeling sick to my stomach again, but I got a job offer in my email. I ate a piece of toast and threw up five times more.

I still haven’t decided whether he broke my heart or whether this is just what it’s like to be abandoned.

Day Four: I decided to take a deep breath and keep going.

Emma Andrews is a senior majoring in international relations. Her column, “Before & After,” runs Fridays.