The Lemon Life | online magazine offering a fresh perspective on post-grad life.

Words by: Jack

Image by: e (special thanks to bixentro)

Over the last few weeks I’ve been re-evaluating my life, wondering if Canada is the place for me. This whole thing was prompted by my friend Reilly who was visiting and asked me, ‘What keeps you here? What stops you from moving somewhere else?’  It was then that I realized that there really wasn’t anything keeping me here anymore. The company I had been working for had recently gone under and my relationship of three years had ended. In essence, I was free to go.  Anywhere.

When thinking about my ‘options’ which were vast, daunting, yet also quite exciting, I had to finally admit to myself that part of the reason I wasn’t quite ready to hit the road was because of my first love. Douglas.  Even though we lived in different cities, a quiet hope existed deep within me that we would find our way back to each other again.

Douglas and I had dated when we were very young. Our relationship fell victim to my naievite. I was too scared to be tied down so early. I wanted to see and experience the world and thought that he didn’t want to do the same, so I ended it saying, ‘If we’re meant to be, we’re meant to be.’

Years later, Reilly said something I had never thought of, ‘You have to go and tell him.’ This would not only require a bus ticket and a few days off work, but a gigantic dose of courage to journey to Montreal and lay it all to bare. The more I thought about it, the more I had to do it. To get it over with, to face this demon. I finally gained the courage and sent him a text to let him know I was coming to Montreal ‘for work’ (I’m brave, not masochistic) and asked if he wanted to get together.

Silence.

Now, silence from Douglas is not rare. During the years since our split it’s what I receive most from him. The deadline for my visit came and went without word from him so I didn’t go. I postponed it to the following weekend and texted him to say so.

Silence.

During the week, I kept thinking, ‘What am I going to say? What is going to happen?’ People told me, ‘Know what you want out of it before you do it.’ To be honest, I didn’t know what I wanted, the only thing I could think of was to just see him again.

I had decided to go. Even if I didn’t see him I would have the answer to this seemingly unending question of ‘What if?’ I bought my ticket and booked my non-refundable hotel room, maxing out my credit card. This was a pricey pilgrimage.

But still there was silence. I racked my brain thinking of why I deserved such nothingness. I finally broke down and messaged him to tell him I was no longer in a relationship and that I really wanted to see him.

Silence.

Boarding the bus, I already knew the outcome but I had to go and suffer the humiliation in person. To feel it’s realness and depth. The entire five and half hour ride I rode with a small glimmer of hope buried in my chest. Maybe he didn’t actually think I was doing it. Maybe he thought I was bluffing. Movie moments swirled around in my head. Moments like him saying he didn’t want to see me and then him pounding on my hotel door at 3 am because he just couldn’t fight it, he just had to see me too.

Stepping off the bus and into Montreal was like re-living a dream, everything was the same but different. The entire city felt distant and cold. I walked in the rain to the hotel because I didn’t want to spend a moment trapped somewhere I couldn’t accidentally be seen.

I arrived at the hotel to check in. The girl behind the desk asked what brought me to Montreal. I told her, ‘To be brave.’ She gave me a small smile as she handed over my room key

Entering the room made me feel the severity of my decision. I was here. I was here for him. I texted him to say where I was staying and asked if he wanted to meet for dinner.

Silence.

I finally tried calling, the final straw. No answer. I sat at my hotel room desk feeling lost. I had thought that this might happen. I’d come all this way just to receive the slap of silence. Of indifference. Of nothingness. I felt frantic and hopeful and stupid.

And then, after all this - a text.

‘Sorry, was in Ottawa for work, getting back late then leaving early to go to Tremblant with friends for the weekend. Hope you enjoy Montreal!’

Coward.

I wrote back, ‘Shame, I really wanted to see you. It was part of the reason I came here. I don’t foresee this happening again. Ciao.’

Silence.

Coward.

My whole body vibrated - with fury, contempt and stupidity. I mean, what was I really expecting? My Hollywood ending? Fiction to become my reality? The two people I had told my plans to were hopeful for me. They thought what I was doing was brave. I didn’t see it that way, I saw it as necessary and yes, a tad crazy. I had to feel this ultimate rejection, of the final string of our connection being severed. It was necessary to finally propel me forward.

I went out to dinner and made myself eat slowly. I made sure to draw out the small act of what I did afterward. To embed this memory and the feeling associated with it - the feeling of emptiness that racked my core. I strutted back to my hotel where I poured myself a glass of champagne and toasted to my stupidity and accomplishment. ‘To the end’ I said.

The next morning, I awoke feeling like the final nail had hit the coffin. He new where I was. He had the number to the hotel and nothing. No movie moment at 4 am. True to form, he had given me nothing. I showered and dressed leaving a mess in my wake. Normally I made the bed whenever I stayed in a hotel, this time I didn’t care. I had contempt for everything in this place, in this stupid city.

On the bus ride back, I felt pathetic and small. Insignificant. I left the rain and wind for the symbolic sunshine of home. This city was my city. My home now. I had an overwhelming sense of love for a city that, until now I had no opinion of what-so-ever.

Through his nothingness he gave me the freedom to finally move forward. To dispel the ‘what if’s’ and finally put my ceaseless mind at ease.  I don’t have to hold the hope of finally hearing from him anymore. He has been erased and now exists solely where he should, the past.

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