You're Taking This Personally

It’s not like Carla wanted to feel superior to Jake.  After all, they were a good fit, bringing different interests, lifestyles and friends to two years of a mostly calm and durable relationship.  At her 30^th birthday party a few weeks ago, her college ex, Steve, whom she hadn’t seen in years, said, “Wow.  I like Jake, but he’s not who I pictured for you.” 

“Jealous?” Carla flirted, having consumed a number of margaritas that included both silver and gold tequila, Jimmy Buffett style (Jake being a huge Buffett fan, Carla grumbling at his insistence on listening to the deep cuts instead of the hits when they got stoned.  She loved her some Margaritaville and the one about sharks).  She was surprised when Steve answered, “God, no.  I really, really hope you are happy.  We certainly made each other miserable.  Have a good life.”  He kissed her on the forehead and walked out. 

Carla was nonplussed.  Miserable?  She wouldn’t have called their relationship miserable.  Seeing him brought back some uncomfortable memories about stealing his notes so she could get a better score in stats class and that one time she tripped him as they were running toward the finish line of their first and last 10K race.   Carla loved seeing her name in front of his on the leaderboard.  She felt a little ashamed now, looking back.  She would never do that to Jake.  He was a cute, lovable Labrador with golden fur, who required a strong touch now and then mixed with tons of affection.  There was no need to compete with someone who went to the gym only to lift and hadn’t taken a math class since 10^th grade.

Carla prided herself on not being controlling, something that could have been a factor in her relationship with Steve.  She encouraged Jake to go out with his friends on football Sundays and supported his new passion, curling.  She even bought him a new suitcase, a hard-bodied portmanteau, for his trip to a tournament in the middle of some unpronounceable province in Canada.  “I bought him a great gift for my birthday,” she crowed to her friend Anna.  “I am an awesome girlfriend!”

“Babe,” Jake called tentatively from the bedroom where he was packing.  Carla walked into the room to see the brilliant blue new portmanteau she had so lovingly picked out from Overstock.com open on the bed with stacks of sweatshirts and jeans piled around it.  “I love this suitcase,” he said, pulling her to him and sniffing her hair.  “But it just isn’t big enough.”  Carla drew away, miffed at his lack of appreciation.  She saw that he had carefully rolled his underwear and t-shirts and put them in the suitcase.  They learned to do that from the movie Up in the Air.  Their shared love of the film was a touchstone, a place to come back to when they were fighting.  One of them would quote a line or grab a pillow and the other would go along, snapping them out of the argument. 

“Jake, you dummy, you’re only using one half of it!  It’s a portmanteau, see, with two halves,” Carla said as she unzipped the liner to reveal that the suitcase had another, equally large compartment.  She heard silence instead of gratitude.  “Jake?” 

His face was ashen and his eyes bright green as he stared at her.  “Oh shit.  I’m sorry I called you a dummy,” Carla said, walking toward him with her arms extended.  Jake did not accept her hug, standing full and straight as she encircled him with her arms.  “We are not swans, we are sharks,” she tried, one of their favorite lines from the film. 

Jake answered with a line they never used:  “Make no mistake, your relationships are the heaviest components in your life.”  He pulled his old college duffel out of the closet and started throwing in his sweatshirts and jeans, and then the rolled up underwear and t-shirts from the portmanteau. 

“But Jake, it will all fit!  Don’t you see?” Carla pleaded as she struggled with him to pull his clothes out of the duffel and put them back in the portmanteau. 

“Sorry, Carla.  I’m tired of you disparaging me,” he said as he gently shut the apartment door.

“Disparaging?" she said to herself.  “How does he know that word?”