By Saturday morning, my phone was buzzing nearly continuously. Marissa called, left a voice message asking us to talk like adults, then called again when I didn't answer. I had planned to collect my final belongings that afternoon with Jake, but I was reluctant to go back while emotions were still so raw. I sent one practical message saying I would come at two for the last boxes, that Jake would help, and that I would not discuss the relationship during the pickup.
She replied that she was going to Tasha's pool party because she needed her friends around her. I saw no reason to comment on that, though the irony was difficult to miss. Later, while Jake and I carried a lamp and a crate of books downstairs, the apartment was quiet enough that I could hear the refrigerator cycling. I left a copy of the lease information on the counter, checked that I'd taken nothing belonging to her, and stood for a moment in the doorway where we'd once measured whether our new sofa would fit.
Jake waited beside the car. He saw me looking back at the building and didn't say anything until I closed the trunk. Then he asked whether I wanted to get lunch, a small ordinary question I was grateful to answer. We sat in a diner near his office and talked about baseball, a colleague's absurdly elaborate wedding invitation, and how much he'd hated the final year of his own last relationship. It was the first meal in months that didn't depend on whether anybody outside the table wanted to join us.
The messages from the squad began while we were eating. Khloe wrote a long text saying Marissa was devastated and that I was breaking up their family, a phrase so unexpected that I had to read it twice. Finn called and left a voicemail asking what kind of grown man disappeared instead of working things out. Tasha, whom I'd spoken with perhaps ten times in two years outside group events, informed me that I was making an enormous mistake and should stop being selfish.
Adrien's message was the only one that didn't begin with an accusation. He said he knew the situation was complicated and suggested the six of us meet somewhere neutral to discuss what had happened. I understood why that might have sounded reasonable to him; he was often the person smoothing over disagreements in the group. But I couldn't think of a more exhausting way to explain why I didn't want our relationship managed by a committee.
I replied to Adrien alone. I told him I appreciated his concern, but the relationship had been between Marissa and me, and I had made my decision after trying for a long time to explain my needs. I asked him not to involve himself further and said I wished everyone well. He sent a short acknowledgment, and for a few hours that was the end of it.
The other messages grew more aggressive. Khloe said that Marissa had always gone out of her way to include me, which suggested that being allowed into their circle should have counted as a privilege rather than a normal part of dating someone. Finn accused me of emotional manipulation because I had moved out without a dramatic final argument that the group could witness. Tasha said the letter was proof that I had been planning to hurt Marissa for weeks.