“Breakin’ Up Is Hard to Do”
Listen to this chapter, “The Real Breakup.”
Julie finally put into words the question that had first prompted her to leave the concert. “Allen, do you still love me?”
“Yes,” he replied slowly and deliberately. “But it’s a different kind of love, Julie.”
Not the kind of love one marries for, she could hear Bob saying.
Allen went on. “Not the sickening sentimental kind of love that we used to believe would just last forever and ever.”
Julie was crying now, her face buried deep in Darlene’s sweater she had borrowed.
It was not the first time he had seen her cry, but a new sense of responsibility grasped Allen. He put his arm around the sobbing girl, but neither of them spoke.
Julie was fumbling in her purse for a tissue, but to no avail. “I’ll go see if I can find you something,” Allen offered. “If you want?”
She nodded, “Okay. Please—” she choked, “come back.”
“You bet I will!” And he disappeared.
How slowly the minutes seemed to pass! Yet, despite Julie’s fears that maybe it was just a clever trick to get away, Allen returned with a few cocktail napkins that were most welcome.
Julie had wandered into a phone booth to stop crying. She didn’t want to cry, now of all times! Allen would think for sure she was just a big drip. She wasn’t hurt; why couldn’t she stop crying and act like the poised Julie she wanted to be? But the acting was all over. Julie knew this was it—what she had been expecting for so long. But she was so unprepared. Why had God let it happen on this day of all days, and in this inappropriate place?
“Don’t you understand, Julie, that it’s best, that it’s God’s will?” Allen, taking Julie into his arms much like Bob would have done, brushed the falling tears from her cheeks and kissed her forehead lightly. “Don’t you understand, Julie?” he whispered. “Don’t you understand?”
Julie’s sobs came in spurts. At first, she only shook her head and buried her face. She could not speak.
Allen’s voice was not unkind. “A teenager has many loves,” he said. “It’s normal, Julie.”
She asked pensively, “Do you think we were ever really in love?”
“Yes, I do,” was Allen’s quiet reply. “And we wanted to believe it would never end. But we’re so very young—only sixteen.” Now Allen lifted her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “Smile,” he said lightly.
She relaxed and giggled slightly. Allen understood. “Don’t make me go back just yet,” she ventured. “Can’t we…talk just a little?”
“Of course.” Allen, too, knew that things would never be completely settled unless they talked it out.
Her head fell onto his shoulder as she responded to his affection for the first time that entire weekend. There were so many things she wanted to say. But Allen was speaking now.
He kissed her tear-stained cheek lightly. “You’ll always be my little sweetheart,” he said.
Julie knew they would never forget each other, this experience of love. The lingering memory was theirs to keep always. But life could not stand still. They were so very young and volatile.
“You see that it’s God’s will, that it’s best,” Allen repeated, “don’t you, Julie?”
Of course Julie understood. She had understood all along, but was afraid to face it so soon. Now she drew a deep breath and looked deep into Allen’s searching eyes. With a soft smile she whispered, “Yes, Allen, I know it is.”
Allen smiled. “You know something, Julie? I think I’ve found life’s answer.” She looked at him as he nodded slowly, his pensive blue eyes staring far past her. “Patience,” he said deliberately. “Yes, that’s it—patience.” Allen felt so much better now. He didn’t have to run away from anything—or anyone—anymore. Nothing had to be superficial now. They understood each other, and both had returned to the world of reality. It had grown so stuffy and almost lonely to be in his private little world. Julie was a loyal friend; he knew she always would be. Even now, as she spoke, he sensed her tone had changed.
“I’m curious,” she said. “Just how long have you felt this way?”
Allen smiled. “Oh, since about the first of February, I guess. A couple months.” Since I first went out with Mindi, he thought.
She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“How did you know?” A peculiar smile played on his face.
“Oh, a girl can sense it. The conveniently forgotten valentine in the rush of helping plan for the February 14 banquet you took Mindi to!”
Allen smiled sheepishly. “That banquet,” he said. “I guess it was Larry who started me thinking. I wasn’t going to ask anyone at first. No, sir, not with my faithful Julie back home. But you know, Julie, I started to see how much we were really missing. And a lot has happened inside—and still is happening.” He paused. “I like you very much, Julie, but I like others…like I like you.” Like Mindi, he thought, but his voice faded.
Julie studied his thoughtful face. “Is there…someone else?” Her question was apprehensive, but not in the least neurotic.
He shook his head, looking away from her.
“Bonnie? You dated her, too.”
“Once.” He looked back at Julie, shaking his head. “She didn’t care for me. That ‘brief four-day encounter’—she was just using me to get back at her boyfriend.”
“Oh.” There was a pause. What could Julie say? Then, “Have you got your class sweaters yet?”
“The rest of the class has, but I couldn’t afford the twenty-one bucks.”
“Oh.” Again there was a pause. Julie had stopped crying now.
“You’re going to like being free,” Allen said. “It’s, well, it’s—“
“I know,” Julie said almost impishly. In my mind, Allen, I broke up with you quite a while ago. I have been free. I’ve known how it feels for quite a while. I don’t feel guilty anymore about Kurt or Bill or anyone.
Allen spoke again. “There’s ‘marvelous’—”
Julie laughed. “Oh, honestly, Allen! I only saw him that one night when Kurt and Peter and Sandra and I went to Garden Grove. I hardly even know him—” But she stopped. Why was she making excuses now?
“But he’s moving to Riverdale this summer, Peter told me.”
“Um-hum.” She smiled sweetly. “Maybe you can meet him when you’re home from San Margo Academy.”
“Let’s go back now,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s getting late.”
“But it’s a whole half hour until supper,” she protested. “Let’s just stay here and talk a little more.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Whenever you say you’re ready to go back, we’ll go. What do you want to talk about?”
But Julie could think of nothing more. Involuntarily, she burst into tears again. Oh, no, Julie!, Allen thought. Don’t spoil it now!
“Julie.” He spoke her name.
She tried to giggle. “I’m sorry, Allen! I don’t want to cry. Believe me, I don’t!”
He patted her lovingly. “It’s all for the best,” he repeated. “Romans 8:28, Julie. Where’s your faith?”
That sounded like Bob. All things work together for good…, he would have said. Julie looked up at Allen with much seriousness as her tears all but disappeared. “Oh, Allen, I have faith. Believe me, I do!”
“That’s my girl!” he whispered, squeezing her.
Her last sob subsided quickly. “Allen,” she said somewhat mischievously, “I’m ready to go back now. But first, may I do a very wicked thing?”
A smile crept over his face. “What is it?”
“Allen,” she said, “may I kiss you just once more?”
He hugged her, laughing. “Sure!” It was the warmest he had spoken all weekend. “But make it short and sweet.”
They kissed just like they used to. Then they started back to supper together. But now it was so different. The wind had ceased, and the glow of the setting sun penetrated the clear, cold air. Whatever the future held for Allen and Julie, they left all in God’s hands. It was the perfect ending to a perfect love.
But not quite.
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