unnamed

We went up the roller coaster as a couple
and came down as two different people.

Amusement parks are where love goes to die.
Vomiting is never romantic. Hugging the edge
of the toilet bowl, I am convinced that it
is more supportive than my then boyfriend.
I sink back to the floor and stay in the
fetal position until the next wave of nausea
comes, hitting me like a boomerang of bile.
My boyfriend has left me here at the hotel,
so he can go back to the amusement park
before it closes. When he returns, he will
rub my back, watch Conan O’Brien, then
pass out, not facing me, not wrapping his
arms around me. What I do not know then,
because I am still recovering from the
roller coaster ride, is that he is working
up the courage to break up with me, which
he will begin to do two months later.
Tomorrow, we will watch the new Muppet movie
and he will buy me a fiber optic rose that
lights up in patriotic colors. It will become
the one thing I cannot bear to throw away.
After it happens.

We went up the roller coaster as a couple
and came down as two different people.

 

Advertisements