45. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
the smallest man who ever lived
ABI
TORONTO, ONTARIO
MAY 2021
“Okay!” Kat sighs as we push open the door to my apartment and step inside. “Brendan! Come and check out how hot your fiancé looks!”
She was sweet enough to pay for me to go and see a stylist in Toronto who could do my hair up just right for the engagement party tonight. I feel like a princess, but more importantly, I look like one-- minus the skeleton sweatpants, no makeup, and my fiancé’s oversized hoodie that pretty much hangs off of me.
“Where is he?” Kat grumbles, tossing her long blonde braids over her shoulder.
“I don’t know. Maybe he went out to grab something.”
The apartment is eerily quiet. Usually, I’d come home around now and find Brendan watching football, playing video games, or just killing time on his phone.
“Well, we leave in an hour.”
“I’ll try texting him again.”
I tried sending him pictures of the shoes I picked earlier, but it seemed like they weren’t going through. My phone doesn’t have the best reception, it’s old and needs an update, but I figure it’s worth another shot.
ME
Hey! We’re at home, going to start getting ready to head out. Where are you?
Not delivered.
Same message as last time.
“Still not going through…”
“Try restarting your phone. I’ll text Marcus, maybe they went to pregame or something.”
I reboot it, wandering into the bedroom so that I can start on my makeup, but only a couple steps in and my stomach drops. The whole room looks like it’s been ransacked. Dresser drawers are hanging open, clothes are strewn around the floor, and the bed is a complete mess. It even looks like half the closet’s been cleared out. The only thing hanging right in the middle is my dress, still in the bag I got from the boutique.
Either this is the start of a horror movie, or something’s happened with Brendan.
ME
Are you okay? What happened to the bedroom?
Not delivered.
My hands are freezing, but the rest of my body is white hot, adrenaline pumping through me. I try calling him, but after three loud beeps, it just disconnects.
“Kat!” I shout, my voice breaking slightly.
“What’s up?”
She’s already stumbled into the bedroom, her jaw dropping as she sees the mess.
“Did someone break in?”
“Unless they broke in and only took Brendan’s shit…” I show her my phone. “I can’t call him either.”
Kat’s already tapping away on her phone, her brows shooting up her forehead.
“And now mine aren’t going through.”
“Maybe it’s the building,” I murmur.
She flashes me her signature, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me look. I spent weeks trying to get a reservation at the restaurant, planning every last detail and making sure that I included all of Brendan’s favorite things.
Maybe he had different ideas.
Kat is already in damage control mode as I sit on the edge of the bed, staring off into nothing. I swallow, trying my best to keep the bile in my gut from rising up as I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Hey, Marcus? Have you been able to get a hold of Brendan?” Kat asks, not wasting any time as the call connects. “No, we’ve both texted him and it says ‘not delivered’. Abi said she couldn’t call him either. Yeah, let me know as soon as you hear from him. Okay, talk soon.”
She hangs up and takes a few long, soothing breaths before taking a seat next to me.
“Marcus said he’d get in touch. Who knows, maybe he’s planned a surprise vacation and he’s working it out last minute?”
She winces at how far she had to stretch to make that sound even remotely plausible. It feels like this wasn’t anything but an escape plan.
My head is spinning, my memory working overtime to try and come up with an explanation. I must have done something to upset him. I must have said something, looked at him a certain way, used a tone he didn’t like. He’s told me before that sometimes my tone is too harsh, or that I can snap at him, but it’s just because I’m a bit stressed out. I’m at the tail end of my dissertation and four weeks out from my defense. Then there’s the job market to worry about, publications, and what I’m going to do next.
Tears rush down my cheeks and I start to shake as Kat grabs one of my many fuzzy blankets, wrapping it around me. She doesn’t say anything, she just lets me break down, sobbing into her chest. Even without confirmation, the data is enough for me to make this quick and succinct analysis: Brendan walked out on me and he’s not coming back.
“It’s okay,” Kat coos. “You’re okay, babe.”
And maybe, just for kicks, he waited until the cruelest possible moment to do it.
“He couldn’t even wait until my fucking dissertation was over!” I scream into her shirt.
“He’s an asshole, Abi. He doesn’t deserve you.”
Toward the end, he became colder, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice. I tried desperately to build a bridge the only way I knew how: I bought him things, I went out of my way to make him happy, I kept the house cleaner, I wore more makeup, I changed the way I dressed…
And then he asked me to marry him, and I thought it all had worked. I had saved our relationship, and I didn’t even care that everything else in my life suffered because of it.
Kat’s phone starts ringing and she picks up.
“Yeah, yeah it’s— I’m sorry, what did you just say?!”
She’s on her feet in a split second, gently pushing me off of her.
“Tell him to call her or text her, or something! He can’t just leave like that— I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m not mad at you, I’m— God, I think I’m going to skin him and wear him as a coat.”
I stare at myself in the mirror, brushing away tears. My face is covered in bright red splotches, my eyes are puffy, and there’s snot dripping from my nose. I wipe it all away on the sleeve of Brendan’s hoodie.
He can have my boogers. He deserves them.
I feel helpless, and when I feel helpless, I lean into my background as a researcher, excavating memories and trying to figure out where I screwed up.
For the past six months, Brendan’s been less affectionate. He’s been hiding his phone, moving to the other room to text… the classic signs. I didn’t want to believe it, so I tuned it all out. Things got lonely as he got more and more distant. There were nights where he could be lying next to me or not, and I wouldn’t know the difference.
“Maybe he’s sleeping with someone else.”
“What?!” Kat hisses. “Abi, that’s— nothing, Marcus. What were you saying?”
My gaze wanders over to her, running over the pair of distressed dark jeans, shiny black boots and Led Zeppelin t-shirt that’s tied off at the waist, showing off the abs she’s worked so hard for over the years. She’s so strong, literally and metaphorically, yet somehow she always looks so polished, even when the world is falling apart around her.
Kat’s my favorite superhero.
But as she stares at me, I know that pained look in her eyes isn’t going to bring any good news along with it.
“I’ll ask her, and I’ll text you back, okay? Alright. Bye.”
She hangs up, taking another one of her patented deep relaxing breaths.
“Marcus got through to him. He’s in Oshawa, at his dad’s place.” She slides her phone into her back pocket, and flashes me a look that turns my stomach. “Brendan told Marcus he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Said he just had to leave.”
I blink.
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I— I really don’t know, babe.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But Marcus had an idea, and I want to run it by you.”
“What is it?” I mumble, face buried in my hands.
“What if we went out anyway? Dinner, dancing, and I’ll rent you a hotel room for the night so you don’t have to come back to… all of this. It took you forever to book those reservations, right?”
Leave the house when I’m a sobbing, snotty mess? I’d rather have both of my eyeballs plucked out.
“No. I’m just going to stay here and…” I trail off, not even sure what I would do with myself.
“Do you really want to be here right now, surrounded by sadness and his shitty cologne?”
“It wasn’t that shitty,” I hiccup, a giggle breaking through the tears.
“Abi, half the time he walked around smelling like a bear’s rotting asshole. I hope he took that shit with him or I’m gonna toss it off the balcony.”
I snicker. I told him I was allergic to get him to stop wearing that stuff, but he’d still wind up dabbing it behind his ears or spraying it on with the window open anyway.
“I don’t know, Kat.”
“Come on! I’ll do your makeup, we can smoke a joint, and take a cab to dinner! Marcus is going to rally the troops. We can have a Brendan Sucks Party!”
I wish I could be angrier, but all I can think is that it’s still somehow my fault that things ended up this way.
“I tried to be a good girlfriend, I really tried.”
“You were ,” she assures me. “He was the one who couldn’t handle it. You were smarter than him, better than him, more successful than him, and he couldn’t stand next to your fire. Baby, you’re 23 years old and about to get a PhD. You’re a wizard.”
It really doesn’t feel like it.
I stare at the engagement ring on my finger, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach at the sight and sliding it off. I get to my feet and take a few long strides toward the open window, and toss it straight out of my life.
“Holy shit, Abi!”
It’s the first step toward letting go, I guess. Hopefully it gets easier from here.
“Okay, I’ll go out, but only if you pay for my drinks. Because I’m going to drink a lot.”
She flings her arms into the air, grinning.
“Yes! Of course I will!”
Kat was right, Brendan’s the asshole here. This is entirely his fault, and to hell with him if he thinks I’m just gonna sit around and pick up the pieces.
I’ve been doing that for years, and I’m tired of it. Tired of being the good girl.
Tonight, I want to do something stupid.