It was December 24th, 2005. While most people were probably coaxing their kids into getting into bed for fear that if they stayed up Santa wouldn’t come, I was throwing a birthday party for one of Melissa’s friends. Not that I really cared. I had always had bad luck with the Christmas season so it didn’t really bother me that we wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas Eve this year. For example, when I was younger there were three Christmases in a row where I had the stomach flu so bad that, while the rest of the family was lost in the excitement and merriment of Santa’s latest delivery, I spent my mornings curled up in a ball in a corner of the couch. My fate was confirmed on one Christmas when I was particularly ill, when I received my first C.D. “The Sign” by Ace of Base. I think “the sign” was that I was cursed by the Grinch of belly aches and pin point food poisoning. Which is why, in 2005, I was more than willing to host Karen’s birthday party on Christmas Eve.
After cuing in on Melissa’s text message stare down, I took a look around the house and noticed there was one party regular who wasn’t in attendance. Adam Schefield. In the best interest of appeasing my suspicious nature, I approached Melissa with my observation, “Hey, I noticed Adam isn’t here. Is he going to be able to make it?”
“I don’t know. I think he had to work.” She responded, rather brash, then turned to walk to the restroom. I stayed put hoping to pry a little deeper when she finished answering the beaconing of what could have been an overactive bladder.
When Melissa was done in the restroom, the door swung open, and just before she turned off the bathroom light, I saw a glimpse of her cell phone sitting on the bathroom sink. I reacted immediately. As Melissa walked past me to a group of her friends, I darted into the bathroom and locked the door. Time was of the essence. I picked up her phone with every intention of going through her text message history and piecing together all the evidence I needed to find out whether or not she had been cheating on me, but I only had to read her most recent text to find the answer I was looking for. It was from Adam and it simply said:
“Sorry can’t make it tonight :( Miss u, love u.”
It didn’t hurt like I thought it would. I actually felt a little relieved. I went back a message into her texting history to find out what she said to generate this response. This one was from Melissa:
“Are you ever going to get here?? MISS YOU!!! Love – ME ;)”
That was all I needed to know. I looked through a few other messages just to be sure, but I didn’t care if she was sleeping with the guy or not. If she was in love with someone else; it was over.
I quickly put together a plan of how to confront Melissa. I wanted her to know that I knew what was going on, there was no way we could work things out, and that her and all her friends had to be out of my house immediately.
When I left the bathroom, I walked over to Melissa, who was still talking with her group of friends, and asked her if we could speak privately. We walked a few steps away from the group and I said (just loud enough for her friends to hear), “I’m going to give you one chance to get out of this relationship with at least a shred of integrity.” I showed her the cell phone in my hand. “Are you cheating on me?” Her eyes opened wide as she tried to overcome the shock of my accusation.
“That’s my phone Steve!” She said, snatching it from my hand and gaining the attention of the party. “What’s in it is none of your business!”
“Do you want to read the texts from Adam aloud or do you just want to leave my house now and spare yourself the embarrassment?” I said, starting to get upset that she was even considering trying to trump her wrong doing of cheating with my wrong doing of going through her text messages.
“It’s not what you think.” She said, realizing the attention she’d drawn.
“Did you tell another man you love him?” I asked, talking down to her like a child.
“Yes, but he’s a…”
“Then it’s EXACTLY what I think!” People were getting visibly uncomfortable.
“He’s a friend. What? You don’t love your friends?”
I wasn’t even going to entertain this argument. “It’s over Melissa. Get out!” I pointed to the side door of the house then looked around the room. “The party is over people. EVERYBODY OUT!”
Looking more embarrassed than angry, Melissa walked past me with an emphatic, “Screw you!” inches from my face, leading the file of shocked party members toward the door.
After everyone had dispersed and all the cars had left the driveway, I sat down on the couch and glanced up at the living room cable box clock showing a glowing 1:00 a.m. It was Christmas morning and I was alone on my couch reflecting upon my relationship with Melissa. Now that it was finally over, I realized that I hadn’t been happy being with her for some time. She was nice and funny and neither of us had ever given the other a good enough reason to break up until now. As I started to drift off to sleep, I couldn’t help but be proud of Melissa for finally finding a way for both of us to see that we weren’t right for each other.
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