TWO - HUNTER

Sarah is sitting on the couch, crying into her palms as I’m moving my boxes out of the midtown Toronto townhouse that we’ve shared for the past three years. She hasn’t stopped crying since last Wednesday, when I came home early from work and caught her in bed with another man. She hasn’t stopped begging me to forgive her and explaining herself to me, even though we both know that me finding her with another man isn’t the real reason I am leaving.

It’s not that I can’t forgive her, but it’s more that I can’t forgive myself for letting our relationship get to this point. I feel ashamed that we’ve taken things this far. But I guess there’s a certain degree of permanence to purchasing a home together, having a mortgage together, a joint bank account, a joint credit card. There is nothing physically tying us down, but somehow it felt inescapable. Even though it feels like my heart was long gone. I haven’t been present for a long time now.

“I’m so sorry, Hunter...” Sarah says between sobs. She is still on the couch, with her face buried in her hands, sitting in an almost fetal position. I reassure her that it’s okay as I pick up the last box. I’m standing by the door, awkwardly, unsure of how we should conclude things.

We didn’t really have a real conversation about how we would end things. I think it was kind of just assumed that our eight year relationship would come to an end. Just like that. Everything we had been through meant nothing. It was just over.

And to be honest, I feel a little relieved. Incredibly sad, but relieved.

“Sarah, really, it’s not your fault,” I tell her. I’m really not that upset. ‘I haven’t been in love with you for a while now,’ I want to say what we both know in the back of our minds. But I’m sure if that would make her feel better or worse. “I don’t blame you. I played a part in it as well,” is the best I can come up with.

Sarah gets up from the couch and walks over to the front door, where I’m still standing awkwardly, holding the last box of what remains of my life with her.

“Take care,” she says, shoulders hunched and arms crossed, standing in front of me and unable to look me in the eyes.

“You too,” I tell her, and walk out the door, packing up the last box into the U-Haul I rented. Eight years together, five years living together, three years of owning a house together, and all I have to my name fits in a small U-Haul van.

All of our decor items and furniture had been meticulously picked out by Sarah. All of our interior decoration decisions had been made by Sarah. At times, it felt like I was a Ken doll in Sarah’s castle, living the life that she wanted to live, in the home that she picked out. Which, to be fair, I really didn’t mind at times. But I had always felt like there was something missing. It wasn’t that I felt depressed, but I just... didn’t feel alive.

I hop in my car, and put in my new address in G****e Maps. Absentmindedly, I start driving and before I know it, I arrive before my new home. I get out of the car, and take in the charming century-old apartment building in downtown Toronto with only four storeys. All my adult life, Sarah and I had lived in sterile cookie-cutter condos with white walls and builder-grade kitchens, and then when we saved up a decent down payment, we moved into a cookie-cutter townhouse with white walls and a builder-grade kitchen.

Stepping foot into the charming old apartment, it feels like I am starting a completely new life. I’m no longer just the 34 year-old unmarried Japanese-Irish-Canadian hedge fund douchebag salaryman. I am a young professional, living the life in downtown Toronto. Or at least, that’s what I hope to be.

As I’m unloading the van, I hear faint cries of pleasure from a woman from one of the units upstairs. I chuckle to myself, how fun it is to be young and free, something I haven’t experienced for almost a decade. To be honest, I haven’t even had sex in more than a year, and the passionate sounds of fucking was a bit of a turn on. I imagine myself going out after work with my single coworkers and bringing girls back to my fun apartment with brick walls, like the insanely hot guys from the movies. Okay, fine, maybe I’m no Liam Hemsworth.

On one of my last few trips upstairs, I run into a handsome young Asian man around my age who comes out of the apartment across the hall from my unit. From the bottom of the staircase, I can see his unit, 301, and then my unit, 302, is right across on the other side of the tiny landing, where the stair case has turned around and starts a new flight up.

“What’s up, man,” he nods at me, as he comes down the stairs, and takes what appears to be a ring out of his wallet and puts in on his ring finger.

“How’s it going” I nod back.

Before my last trip up, I park the van in the parking lot. I realize that I’m sweating buckets, and I take off my soaked shirt. Moving without an elevator is not an easy feat. I start up the stairs for what I hope to be the last time this night. I walk up the stairs, huffing and puffing and holding onto the railing.

When I finally reach the third floor, I look up, and standing in front of 301 is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She is a rather petite girl, maybe around 5'3 or 5'4. Her big hazel eyes are framed by long lashes, an adorable freckled nose and a heart shaped face. Her wet hair is tied up in a bun, and she is dressed in a semi see-through tank top with no bra underneath. I wonder if she was the one screaming in ecstasy earlier. I look away from her tank top quickly, afraid of coming across as a pervert.

Immediately, I hope that she didn’t see me huffing and puffing up the stairs. I pause, unsure if I should introduce myself. I remembered the man who walked out of the same apartment earlier, and wondered which one of them is actually my neighbour, or if they both are.

“Excuse me,” was all I manage to blurt out.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” She says immediately, and moves out of the way for me to pass by to get to my apartment.

Her arms are out in front of her, holding onto a bundle of sheets, presumably with plans of washing them. As I brush by her in the small hallway area, my arm grazes hers. And a tingly feeling hits my stomach. Maybe because subconsciously, I was connecting her to the passionate moans I had heard not long ago coming from one of the upstairs units, which to be fair could very well have been hers. Or maybe because I hadn’t touched a woman in so long.

My mind was filling with these naughty thoughts as I pass her and go into my apartment. That’s when I realize I forgot to introduce myself. Oh well, maybe next time.

I close the door behind me and I find myself slightly turned on, but too exhausted to do anything about it. All I wanted to do is collapse on my bed, but the mattress that I ordered came in a box and still hadn’t been decompressed yet.

I take it out of the box, and I figure I would do some laundry in the meantime while I wait. It is already pretty late, and I don't want to be stuck with a bunch of things to do on Sunday, when I am supposed to go uptown to see my dad.

When I get to the laundry room, I see two washer and two dryers. One washer is already running. I open the one that isn't and I see white sheets. I guess they must belong to the girl from 301, so I throw them in the dryer for her so that I could wash my own clothes. Maybe I’ll go return them to her later and properly introduce myself...