A memorable conversation

"Hey Hart, how're you doing?"
"Getting by," he said wistfully. "How 'bout you Madge?"
"Pretty good, I got a raise at work, been hanging out with (good female friend) alot . . . keeping busy."
"Oh wicked, I'm totally happy for you!" He paused. " But I've missed you."
"Oh?" I shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, me too . . . I mean, we used to see each other every day, so that's reasonable. But you know why I had to move out, right?"
"Oh, totally!"
"Because we talked about it for a long time, and--"
"It wasn't the right place for you," he said with understanding.
"Yeah! Exactly! I mean you and Steck like it, but I just felt weird having that guy who stole from you sleep in the closet and the strangers dropping by to smoke out at 3 a.m... I mean of course, most of them weren't strangers to you, it was just that I didn't know them . . . plus we couldn't stop fighting so . . . "
He grinned happily and I stopped talking, feeling confused. He said he got it.
"Do you want a drink?" I asked.
"I'd rather get a kiss from my baby" he said, grinning.
"I've got Fresca--what?" I stared at him, tense.
He hovered in on me, still grinning. "Can I get a kiss from my baby?"
"Remember the conversation we had five days ago!?" My voice became shrill. "You said you remembered!"
"Yeah," he said, missing the point. "You moved out, it's not like we broke up."
"We did break up! What are you talking about?"
He laughed. "But not really."
I screamed, aghast for two reasons:

(1) It had taken alot of agonizing and bad nights between us for me to leave him in the first place. I'd left a week before the actual breakup, saying I had to think about things, which I did. Once out of the dirty hole of an apartment, my thoughts became as clean as (close female friend)'s apartment, which I moved into temporarily. He was dragging me down and he was selfish!
(2) On the day of the break up, I'd talked so much without being heard that I was over the whole thing and found it easier to distance myself emotionally than he did.
I was rational and logical.
He was sobbing.
"You don't even caaaare!" he yelled, tears welling in his eyes. "You're killing me; you don't care how much your hurting me"
"You didn't care when I cried," I said, zipping up my suitcase.
He threw himself face first on the single mattress that lay on the floor (the bed we used to share) moaning.
"I told you I wanted to travel when we met, it's not my fault you spent all your money on weed," I said matter-of-factly.
"I thought you loved me!" he sobbed. "If you loved me you'd stayyyy!"
I laughed; this was the oldest trick in the book!
"I did love you," I said, feeling disgusted all the more because it was true. "If you loved me you would want me to travel."
I looked around the room. There was plenty still to pack but I didn't want to hang around any more.
"I'll get the rest later, when you're working." I sighed, throwing a bag over my shoulder. Then I tugged my suitcase to the living room and said goodbye to his friends who were sitting just outside the door, as usual.
I was triumphant and proud of myself for not losing my cool or getting angry. Which is why I was so pissed that he didn't even seem to remember it happening."We DID break up!" I yelled
His eyes welled up in a familiar way, and I showed him the door.

*Republished with edits by Christopher Zane