Museum Split

“I hate you,” Angie bitterly stated.

Sandra replied, “I know.”

Angie persisted, “You always manipulate people into feeling sorry for you…”

Sandra replied, “I know.”

“Then you latch onto them and drain the happiness from their life.”

Sandra replied, “I know.”

“Stop fucking saying ‘I know’!”

They stood an arms-length away from each other in a small room of contemporary paintings attached to the art museum. Angie stared into Sandra eyes, but Sandra’s gaze often drifted towards the surrounding art as she tried to remove herself from the situation.

Angie continued, “You do it to your sister, you do it to your mum who deserves waybetter than that, and you’ve done it to me.”

“I’m sorry, I suck…”

“No no no no. Don’t start with the self-deprecating bullsh…”

They both quietened their tone and pretended to look at a piece of art as a few visitors wandered into the room, briefly glanced around, then left almost as abruptly as they entered.

Angie looked at Sandra and shook her head.

Sandra raised her eyes to meet Angie’s and said, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Why do you seem to resent yourself so much? It makes you deflect any affection people have for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m broken. I’m a broken person."

“Do you know what it is? You… You lean so much on how ‘broken’ you keep saying you are, but you’re more than that. Don’t use it to define who you are.”

“It’s hard to explain. I wish I was diff…”

“You don’t have to explain! And I know I don’t fully understand. Maybe I never will… But you’re so fiercely intelligent and witty and you have such an aptitude for new skills. You learnt how to play the goddamn viola in a fortnight for a bet for God’s sake.”

“I’m not…”

“Stop it. Just stop.” Angie grabbed Sandra by her shoulders and added, “Stop underplaying your ability. You’re better than you keep thinking you are.” Her gaze began to gloss over and she could feel tears forming in her eyes.

A couple waltzed into the room, laughing and flirting. Angie sniffled as she turned to face away from them and Sandra, who looked downwards and closed her eyes.

The couple kissed and made a few crude comments about the art as they slowly wandered around the four walls. One of them whispered into the other’s ear, then they briskly rushed away holding hands.

Angie rubbed her eyes and turned back to Sandra, who was still motionless. Angie looked at the woman who captured her attention a year before, and remembered how nervous yet captivated she was, how special and lucky she felt, how clever and charming Sandra was, the knots in her stomach every time their hands incidentally brushed against each other. Something about the atmosphere made all the pleasant memories rush back into her mind.

Sandra slowly looked up and they met each other’s gaze.

They said nothing for a few moments. 

They both wanted to hold onto that look of longing.

Angie ended the silence and proclaimed, “I love you.”

“You just said you hated me.”

Angie sighed, then said, “I love you so much but I feel like you want me to hate you. Like you expect me to hate you.”

Sandra replied, “You did say it.”

Angie reflexively said, “I know.”

Sandra shot back, “Stop saying ‘I know’.”

Angie softly chuckled and added, “I’m sorry…” She took a moment to compose her thoughts, then continued, “I’m doing what you should do; I'm being selfish, thinking about what’s best for myself.”

“I kn… I… I’m sorry I can’t make you happy.”

“You made me so happy! But you also constantly make me sad.”

“I’m brok…”

“You’re not broken. That’s not you in your entirety, you’re more than that. I don’t know how many more times I can tell you. I can’t keep doing this. That’s why we’re here… at the end.”

“I don’t know how to change.”

“I don’t want you to change. You shouldn’t change. I just want you to love yourself as much as I do. But I just can’t… I can’t watch you emotionally torment yourself. It’s breaking my heart. And I know it’s selfish but I… I don’t know what else to do.”

Sandra’s stare pierced Angie’s eyes. There was no malice, just sadness.

They said nothing as Angie searched for something in Sandra’s eyes, something that might signal an understanding. But she knew it was a desperate pipedream.

Angie broke the silence, “Sandra?”

Sandra replied, “I’m sorry.”

Angie deeply exhaled then said, “I’ll be staying with my brother but I’ll come and clear my things out next weekend when you’re away.”

Sandra stared at the ground and opened her mouth but no words came out.

Angie’s lip quivered then she began quietly sobbing. She held a hand over her mouth and turned around. She repressed her crying slightly, turned back around, and said, “I love you. I hope you eventually love yourse…” Tears and emotion stifled Angie’s words, then cascaded into sorrowful crying.

Angie walked away and left the room.

Sandra stood still for a few seconds, then muttered, “I’ll love you forever.”

She suddenly felt the pressure of their conversation, and her breathing pattern became erratic. She crumpled down onto the floor, alone, then grabbed hold of her legs as she tried to steady her breath. She looked up at the painting in front of her and stared at it for a while.

Her breathing evened out, then she buried her head in her knees and began to cry.