The Missing Piece

This is not my story.

I’m not the main character in this tale, nor was I the protagonist in the proceeding one. I’m the catalyst, the person who makes it happen.

This isn’t always a good thing, being a pusher. After all, I pretty much pushed Christian into Erica.

But that’s not really a fair thing to say. I believe in fate. I believe life throws us curveballs because something else is supposed to happen, something better.

I’m still waiting.

I’m not bitter. I was. But life goes on. It’s like, I loved Christian. We were together for two years, and it was unforgettable. But only the first year was good, I’ve realized in hindsight. After that, we were just coasting.

We were the car stalled as it was crossing the tracks. It was pretty obvious that we were in a rut but ruts are harmless unless something crosses the path. We were the car and Erica Saunders was the train. It doesn’t matter how far in advance you spot it; it’ll still hit you. In fact, I just watched in happen for six months. It was all I could do.

In retrospect, I’m surprised by it all. Not that we didn’t work out, but that Christian held out so long instead of just breaking up with me or cheating on me for real. He admitted that he used up that free-hookup when he ended their friendship, and I believe him. Like, Christian created a lot of crap. He was an indecisive little boy about it, but he’s too good of a guy to have intentionally hurt anyone involved. He honestly thought he loved me, and it’s just easier to keep someone in your life after you’ve let them in like that.

Erica scared him. It’s pretty obvious that he never planned on falling for her. But that’s the thing about love. You don’t plan it. It just happens. You meet someone and something in both of you just clicks. It’s the fire you can’t put out.

I guess I always knew. It was pretty obvious. There’s only so many times that your boyfriend can cancel on you to hang out with his best friend who is a girl before you realize that something’s wrong. Something changed in the tone of his voice and I knew. But I didn’t want to. And I did what any girl would do when her boyfriend and another girl got too close. I fought like hell. I was angry and I was wrong. I did what I did. I don’t really have regrets. It wasn’t meant to be.

Some people say that I should have been nicer to Saunders. Because, let’s face it; I was immature and I was bitchy. When you shit on my territory, I get pissed off. I’m not a pushover. I push back.

But my behavior didn’t push Erica into Christian. It wasn’t revenge, what she did. Part of me wishes that it was something I’d done so that I’d have the easy answer of where I’d went wrong. If I was wrong, I’d understand why all of this had happened. But the truth is, their relationship had nothing to do with me.

By the end of it, the issue was that our relationship always had something to do with her. I picked fights. I refused to let things go. He ditched me for Erica? Bitchy text. Erica slept over again? Angry phone call. I was passive-aggressive as hell but I guess I just desperately wanted things to go back to the way they were before Hurricane Erica.

I’ve learned that the problem with a trainwreck is that there’s no going back. You can’t undo the collision. You might heal, but the scars will always remain as proof of the impact.

But Christian and I didn’t have time to heal. Erica Saunders severed our unit and dragged Christian along with her. Perhaps that’s the fault of the metaphor - Christian was plenty willing - but it almost fits. It didn’t make sense to a lot of people. Everyone put their bets that Erica and Christian’s ‘connection’ was a hefty dose of sexual tension, curable by a good old-fashioned fuck session. And for the longest time, I wished it was the case. If Christan just needed a little freshman pussy to screw, I would have let him. Would I have liked it? No, but I also slept with my best friend from home about two months into our relationship, and Christian didn’t exactly like that either. It was rationalized: a fuck for a fuck. We made that damn agreement for a reason.

But Erica’s not just a good fuck for Christian. I mean, he did admit a few months ago in a particularly inappropriate mutual-drunkdial that Erica’s the best sex of his life, but she’s more than that. You can see it in his eyes. He never looked at me the same way he looks at her. No one has.

It’s been two years, and I’ve gotten over all that. We’ve changed a lot. The guys have all graduated, I graduate in a few days with two degrees, and Erica graduates next spring. We spend a lot more time worrying about the future than all of the dramatic details of the ‘09-’10 school year.

I can stand Saunders now. It was a gradual thing that started with apologizes over coffee. We both know our part in this clusterfuck, and we don’t hate each other. I’m not going to bullshit and say that, under different circumstances, we could have been friends. Because we wouldn’t have. We’re two girls who have nothing in common other than a boy who has gotten into our pants and our hearts.

That being said, I’m sorry if that destroys your vision of this situation. I’m not the bad guy and Erica’s not the hero. We were both wrong. No one wins. Shit doesn’t happen like that in real life. We don’t live in binaries. We live somewhere in the middle of the two terrible extremes.

That being said, this isn’t even my story. It’s Iris’s.