I felt my patience waning even as my heart was stabbing at the inside of my chest.

“I have a job, Julia,” I said. “You’ll understand how that works someday.”

My words had grown cold, and I knew it. I was on the defensive, and at this point, I didn’t quite know how to get back to the other side.

“Really?” she asked. “Will, this has nothing to do with me going to school or you having a job, and you know it — and I can’t do this anymore.”

Do what anymore? What was she talking about? Was she talking about us? She couldn’t do us anymore?

“What does that mean?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything. I took another deep breath, held it and then let it out, as a remnant of patience returned to my voice.

“Jules, it’s us,” I said. “It’s us, Jules. You can do us. We know how to do us.”

I heard her sigh.

“Maybe we should take a break or something,” she said.

Her voice had grown so soft I could barely hear it now.

“You mean break up?” I asked her, slowly lowering myself to the mattress.

“Well, just to give us some time to think about it,” she said.

“I don’t need time to think about it, and Julia, you and I both know that there is no such thing as a break. There is only a breakup. Is that what you really want?”

There was that deafening silence again, and I couldn’t believe what I had just asked her.

“Yes,” she stuttered, eventually.

My heart started to sink deeper into my chest. She didn’t mean that. She couldn’t have meant that.

“Yes,” she said again, more firmly.

“Jules, what are you saying?” I asked.

I waited seconds, but she didn’t answer, and suddenly, I knew. She wasn’t saying that she didn’t fit into my life anymore. She was trying to tell me that I no longer fit into hers. She was saying she didn’t want a firefighter; she wanted a lawyer. I let out a frustrated sigh. It had always been that. It will always be that.

“Well, I guess that’s it then,” I said.

The words stung even me, but I didn’t care. She would figure out soon enough that no one could love her like I could — not even a fancy lawyer.

“I guess so,” she softly said.

There was an awkward pause, and it scared me. I couldn’t remember the last awkward pause I had had with Jules. In fact, I wasn’t sure if we had ever had one. It made me nervous, and the nerves made me spit something out without even thinking.

“Take care,” I said.

There was a quiet moment then — one of those quiet moments when you could hear the crashing and caving in of your world and nothing at all, all at the same time.

“You too,” she eventually whispered.

Her last words came out sad, and immediately, I wanted to take everything back. I didn’t want our conversation to end like this. I didn’t want anything to end, and I didn’t want to hang up. I pulled the phone away and looked at its display. She hadn’t hung up yet either. I brought the phone back to my ear, and as soon as I had, I heard it go dead on the other end.

I tried to say her name, but nothing came out. And for the first time, I noticed I hadn’t been breathing. I sucked in a quick gasp of air and tried again.

“Julia.”

There was no answer. I slowly lowered the phone to my lap and stared at its display for a minute before my hand found my face in frustration. I rubbed my eyes, let my head fall back and then eventually forward, and then I habitually ran my fingers through my hair.

They might be college-educated and have fancy cars, but I knew Jules. I knew everything about her. I loved everything about her. That had to count for something.

I took a deep breath in through my nose and slowly let it escape past my lips. Then, my eyes rushed to the phone in my hand again. She would call back. She was going to call back any second. And she would tell me that she hadn’t meant what she had said, that she wanted me and that she loved me.

Another five minutes passed with my stare frozen on the phone’s display before I rested my finger on the button that would speed-dial her number. But just before I was able to follow through, I heard my tones go off in the other room. And what was left of my heart sank to the deepest pit of my chest.

“Damn it,” I shouted out loud as I squeezed the phone in the palm of my hand and thrust it hard against my thigh.

Then, I hurled my hands to my face again and rubbed my eyes before standing up, shoving the phone into my jeans pocket and hurrying toward the tones.

“Will, there’s this girl from my class that I want you to meet…,” Jeff began, even before I could get my jacket off.

“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head.

“Come on, man,” he said. “She’s got long, brown hair. She’s getting her nursing degree. She’s sort of athletic. And have I mentioned, she’s beautiful?”

I was still shaking my head when I pulled a can out from his refrigerator.

“What does ‘sort of athletic’ mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, sending wrinkles to his forehead.

He sounded irritated that I had asked.

“Like she can throw you your keys, but don’t expect her to throw you a football,” he said.

“Aah,” I said, smiling.

I pushed down the tab on the can and took a swig before I noticed Jeff had grown quiet. My eyes quickly scanned the room and found him in the corner staring at me.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well, what?” I asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting some kind of an associate’s degree or something and not checking out all the girls instead?”

“Hey,” he said, “my parents want the degree, and I’ll do it, but if I’ve gotta do it, I’m not gonna do it with a blindfold on.”

I laughed.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “But if she’s so beautiful, why are you trying to set her up with me? Why don’t you like her?”

He paused.

“Because she likes you, you idiot,” he said, in a way that sounded as if he was annoyed to have had to say it.

“Oh, come on,” I said, swinging over the arm of a chair in the living room and falling into it. “What’s not to like about you?”

“Well, that’s what I said. But she saw you last weekend, and now, all of a sudden I’m her best friend — but not in a good way,” he said.

I turned my face back toward him and caught him rolling his eyes.

“She’s friends with me only because I know you,” he said.

“Last weekend?” I asked, under my breath.

He nodded his head and moved into the kitchen.

“Yeah, she must have seen you playing golf or something,” he said, now taking out two slices of bread from the bag and slapping a piece of cheese on one slice. “She works at the golf course.”

“Hmm,” I said, flipping on the television.

“Anyway, what do you say?” he asked.

He was still fumbling around the kitchen.

“About what?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not a matchmaker. I’m just the messenger. What do I tell her?”

I glanced back and shot him a puzzled look. He caught my eye and stuffed half of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Dude, you have a really big mouth,” I said, chuckling. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I’ll t-ell her you’ll c-all her,” he said, sounding slightly exasperated.

I could barely understand him with his mouth stuffed full of sandwich.

“Jeff, I’m not gonna call her,” I said. “Anyway, don’t you like her? You call her.”

“She likes you, toolbag,” he said, sending the loaf of bread — bag and all — my way.

The loaf hit the can in my hand and spewed liquid all over my tee shirt.

“What the hell, Jeff?” I said, sitting up and whisking the drink off of my shirt.

“Look, you want Julia back?” he asked.

I stopped brushing off the liquid and looked up at him again.

“Invite this girl to the New Year’s Eve party,” he went on. “It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Julia comes. She sees the two of you together. She proceeds to do the whole jealous-girl thing. Then, above-mentioned girl sees that you’re a toolbag because you’re still in love with your ex-girlfriend. Then, I look like a saint — next to you, of course. Ergo, I win. You win. We both win.”