[ WP ] A person breaks up with their SO playing Cards Against Humanity

It was rough, but I thought it would blow over. We had these fights every few weeks, and they could be about anything -- why the movie did or did n't suck, who to invite to our house, whether to turn left or U-turn -- but there was always one common theme: I had overlooked something. Something obvious. I did n't understand the allegory; I did n't understand that Jenna and Frankie were n't over their breakup; I did n't know how to make the GPS re-route. 
 
 Of course I'd explain, but he would n't hear it. But then it would blow over. He'd apologize an hour or so later. He'd take me out to dinner. He'd apologize twenty more times. And it's hard not to forgive someone you've spent every minute with for the last 14 months -- someone who touches your face before you go to sleep and says, `` Thank God for you'' every night, like a prayer, like a fact. 
 
 But I was n't sure how it would go this time. We generally did n't have these arguments when we were out with other people, and this time we had locked ourselves in the bathroom while the party continued on the other side of the door. When he burst out, heading for the kitchen, four or five people turned and looked my way with sympathetic glances. I'd never seen those looks before, but to this day, if I'm unsure of myself, I'll see that group of friends and strangers looking at me and subtly frowning as if to say, `` We understand. You're doing this wrong, and we understand.'' 
 
 I figured if we stayed apart, it could n't get worse. So I wandered into the living room where several drinking games were in progress. Someone shouted, `` Fucking Christ, again?'' and took a swig from a bottle of Jameson. Another set of people started singing Madonna's `` Like a Virgin'' in unison. I joined the quiet group, who happened to be playing Cards Against Humanity. 
 
 `` Lana! Join the debauchery,'' Charlie said, handing me a solo cup of brown liquor. I smelled it. Rum. 
 
 `` All right,'' I said, lowering myself next to him, `` but I'm not holding back.'' 
 
 There were seven or so other people playing, and while I was n't close with any of them, we were on the same friend circuit and thus the same party circuit. I distinctly remembered playing with the blond girl before. She'd played that card about midgets shitting or something and I could never get that image out of my head when she was around. 
 
 Charlie dealt me a set of cards, and I leaned to see if I could get a view of the kitchen. Charlie caught my gaze, held it, and then raised his eyebrows. I shrugged. 
 
 A guy whose name I did n't know said, `` Blank! Betcha ca n't have just one!'' 
 
 The girl next to her smiled behind her cards. Others silently scanned their options. I had decided on `` Tasteful sideboob'' to pander to the heavily male crowd when I saw him sit down across from me. 
 
 `` Deal me in, my friend,'' he said to Charlie. He did n't look at me. 
 
 `` Sure thing, cap'n,'' Charlie said, a little wearily, unless I read into his tone. 
 
 After we'd all thrown our cards into the pile, the guy read each one out loud. My card got a light laugh, but *his* card won the round. 
 
 `` You're a natural,'' I said, trying to lighten the mood. He did n't respond. A girl named Stacy shot me a glance and then turned back to her cards. 
 
 Charlie read the next card: `` OK, folks,'It's a pity that kids these days are all getting involved with blank.''' 
 
 I threw my card in, and everyone quickly followed, but he waited. He looked at his cards while we all watched him. If he could feel the attention turn his way, he did n't let on. I swear a full thirty seconds passed like this before he finally looked at me, and without breaking eye contact, he threw his card in. 
 
 Charlie started reading the cards out loud: Ominous background music. Jorts. The Devil himself. 
 
 And then the last card. Cocaine in vending machines. 
 
 People liked that one. It was true to life, right? We knew a lot of rich kids and had heard a lot of stories on the news. But Charlie knew what I was thinking, and he read the words slowly while watching the expression on my face. I kept my eyes on my own cards, trying not to betray my anger. I was n't convinced he would do something like this -- something so personal -- in a room full of people. That's what ran through my head at first. *It was an accident. He was n't thinking. Or maybe it's not his card. * But when I raised my head and saw that he was looking right at me, I knew it was true. 
 
 I thought about how he'd reacted when I called him the day my sister died. I was at the hospital with my parents after the doctor had told us she'd overdosed. 
 
 `` The last time I saw her,'' I told him on the phone, `` I told her no rehab in the world could fix her shit.'' That had been three months before she died. He said, `` I do n't know why you did that.'' I wanted to throw the phone into the bare hospital walls. I wanted to scream `` Fuck'' and run and quit college and join a church and kill myself all at once. So I just hung up, but that train of thought stayed with me, and the important part about all of this was that the son of a bitch *knew* it had stayed with me. 
 
 I laid my cards down. The blond girl started drawing a new card, but Charlie put out his hand to stop her. 
 
 `` I do n't want to keep you all in suspense,'' I said to the room as I rose to my feet. When I had everyone's attention, I continued. `` My boyfriend here just had the brilliant idea of throwing my sister's death in my face to one-up me in an argument.'' 
 
 `` Now wait a second,'' he said standing. 
 
 `` No,'' I said. `` You just put yourself in this position, and now everyone can know how far you're willing to take your power-hungry, piece-of-shit mentality.'' 
 
 He did n't respond. Everyone faded out of my line of sight. All I could see was the look on my dad's face in the hospital and the gray square tile and the pile of used tissues my mom had on her bedside table every night for months. 
 
 He had been there throughout that time, but right then, in that moment of fury, I could n't remember anything about our relationship. I could n't think of a single restaurant we had been to or a single TV show we'd watch or a single exchange of words we'd had. I had no idea what to do with the person in front of me now. All I could think to say was, `` Please, do us all a favor and be someone else for a change.'' 
 
 I walked out of the party. I closed the front door behind me and followed the sidewalk to the end of the block. Humidity and little gnats crowded me, but I kept walking, making a conscious effort to breathe deeply. When I reached the first neighborhood intersection, the regret set in. I had said something cruel, something that was bound to layer on my already solid foundation of regret. 
 
 My sister could have been saved. I know now there was help for her if she had found the right source. Actually, I had known it the moment she died, and even the moment I had said the words. 
 
 But the words I had just spoken at the party, they were different. For the first time in months, he had nothing to say in response to an accusation I had made. In his eyes, there was nothing I had said or done wrong. Dread filled me as I realized he agreed with me -- he did n't want to be himself anymore. 
 
 But the regret that had shifted to dread soon shifted to relief. I had never known the real him, I decided. None of that was authentic. It was borne of confusion and loss. It was n't real. 
 
 It was n't real. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

