33 by Trevor Reece

"Blueberries and Yogurt"
Photo by kaycatt*
Accessed at www.flickr.com

So, I write for this blog called "1,000 Words." The premise is that every week, we'll put up a picture of something of interest from Flickr.com and we'll write about whatever story the picture inspires us to write. My friends, Dave Gerhard and Mike DiGrande, and I came up with the idea after seeing Neil Gaiman in San Francisco a few months back. The story of this event is also on the Teddy the Bear blog (with pretty pictures too). This site has been kept up by Mike, with contribution from Dave and myself as well as a few of our friends. It is a great creative outlet and I would encourage people to look into it. I've fallen back from posting on it and missed a few weeks, but there are some stories that I've written that I am a fan of, if only because of how personal they are or just that they are funny. I'm gonna use Teddy the Bear (and other shenanigans) to make up for not writing that week and post my writings here. So, this is called "33" and it is from the picture shown above. All instances in which real life is mirrored in this story are completely intentional.

33, 34, 35…

I’ve begun to count the blueberries every time she said the word “lonely.”

I’m up to 35. I still haven’t said a word to her.

“I’m sorry that it happened this way,” she says almost convincingly. “I was just so lonely that I needed you around.”

The best part about being dumped in a public place is, if your heart isn’t ripping apart at the seams, you can really savor the awkwardness of the whole situation, just as I was planning on savoring the vanilla yogurt in front of me. I have never seen blueberries look so good in yogurt. Both the situation and the yogurt look delicious.

This person, in my case Elly, has decided that she was going to break up with me because it wasn’t working for her. So she decided to meet in a public place to lie out this life-altering situation, which is for her protection from me voicing my opinions with using the volume and diction I would prefer to use. Breaking up in a public place is the definition of self-interest.

Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck about the patrons. While its not their fault that she came up with this plan, everyone knows that pain of heartbreak and excuses normally rude behavior. But I have an ace in the hole. I know why she is breaking up with me.

Thanks to Kyla, another ex-girlfriend (but that is different story all together), I’ve known for about two weeks now. I’ve known about her fucking Brad and all that and how they were going to be dating soon. All that garbage was old news at this point. Elly and I had talked about it a few days ago and she denied it, but I trust Kyla. There is something about the first girl who lets you see her boobs that builds trust.

And that brings us to why it is a good thing that I know. I can control the situation. I don’t need to say a goddamn word because I have all the information. And so I can really savor the yogurt that was sitting right in front of me. It’s a plain vanilla, but the blueberries look like they were going to be the perfect compliment. It also helps that I punch a hole in my apartment wall when I found out the news that she was going to break up with me.

“I just need some time apart. I need to remember who I am outside of a relationship.”

Bullshit. We’ve been together three months. I take my first bite. Oh Lord, thank you for blessing me with this yogurt.

“I don’t want to string you along and make you think you’re in something you’re not.”

A one-sided relationship? In the middle of unrequited feelings? Sister, being in the middle of that has been old hat since the second grade. God, I want to fuck this yogurt.

“I just need to see what is out there for me, but that means breaking up with you and that hurts me so much.”

I almost spurt out some venom, but it seems such an unkind thing to do in the presence of this yogurt.

She sits in silence, waiting for my reaction to this shocking news of our imminent demise, but I let her suffer in not knowing how I feel. I remain silent as well and slowly crush a blueberry’s juices out between my teeth. I don’t trust my acting ability to pretend to be saddened by all this, but I am focusing all of my energies on enjoying the yogurt. I begin to position myself as if to talk, knowing that she has been waiting to hear how I am taking the news. She needs validation that she is a good person.

That isn’t going to come from me. I open my mouth, as if to speak, only to pick up a napkin and clean off some of the yogurt. I bring the spoon to my mouth and enjoy another bite. She sighs. “Would you please stop eating the yogurt and talk to me? I need to know how you feel and you are just not even present in this. You are paying more attention to the yogurt than you are me.”

There is one bite left. I scoop it up and stare her straight in the eyes. “This yogurt wasn’t fucking Brad.” I lick it clean and walk out. Nobody disrespects a dessert that delicious. Especially some skank.