i don't know why i let you in

His face goes white for a single moment, then straight back to red. She hit a sore spot. "Oh, that is bullshit, Maggie! It was over a year ago, and you took that way out of context!" She laughs, and it's hollow. We've both forgotten what we were going to do. A fight between us is like giving an alcoholic keys to a liquor store. Disastrous.  I lied before. Our relationship was easy when we both kept our mouths shut. Although all of it was effortless.

We're both red-faced and glaring at each other, enjoying the fight far too much to say anything else. After a moment he throws his hands up in the air, disgusted. "Oh God, I can't take this anymore! Even when you're grieving, it has to be all about you." He's ranting. Best to just let him get it out of his system. "You know, I've tried to deal with it, I really have. But d****t Maggie, I can't stand it just twiddling my thumbs while you destroy yourself." He starts to walk past me. Old Maggie recedes a bit. "Wait, where are you going?" My voice is scratchy. This is confusing and higher unusual. I'm the one who storms off, not him. I'm a little shocked. "I'm getting away from you, Magdalena." He spits my name out like it's putting a bad taste in his mouth. I hate my name. "This," He motions me and him "is just not worth it. You're not worth it." The second sentence is highly unnecessary. Anger, hot like lava, burns through my veins. I forget that we're in a public place. She bursts through one last time, still angry and hurt from mentioning her. "Oh really, I'm not worth it? F**k you Derek." I spit out the name before I realize it's the wrong one.  Crap. S**t. F**k.

He freezes for a nanosecond, processing what I said. Oh crap. Then he starts walking at quicker pace. S**t. I called him Derek. That's not his name. Derek was the guy before him. Who I compare him too, because Derek was a lot of firsts. I told Derek I loved him first. He hates him just for that reason. My anger goes out like a light. Old Maggie goes right back inside. Good luck with this, kid. She shoves me back out. I don't know what to do. I accomplished what I wanted, break-up. But for what? So I can wallow in my own self-misery without threat of someone pulling me out of it? Hollow victory. Down the hall, a very distinctive bang of someone punching a locker in frustration travels to me. Undoubtedly him. He's famous for his anger outbursts, particularly  those involving lockers.

I let my legs walk me outside. It's a beautiful day.