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[b]TOXIC - PART I[/b]

[b]One month ago...[/b]

There's a small park just around the corner from my house called Carver Lake Park. A bit of self-aggrandizement if you ask me; the lake is more like a glorified pond, though it's still good for a quick dip in the summer months. Anyway, the park itself is actually fairly nice. The central green is dominated by a picnic area and various sports fields, while the outer rim of the park is pretty densely wooded and features a handful of walking trails snaking through the forest. Though the park is technically only open dawn 'til dusk, my high school friends and I would often sneak onto the property after hours to hang somewhere secluded. After all, it's not like the park is big enough to warrant a 24-hour ranger staff or anything. I know, I know, a superhero shouldn't admit to misdemeanor trespassing, but here we are.

Anyway, I suppose old habits die hard because here I am again with my childhood friend, Abby Smith. In the early days -- before the cruel, twisted world got into our heads and told us that boys and girls couldn't be friends -- Abby and I were inseparable. For a time, I was closer with her than any of my male peers. I often wonder what would have happened if Abby hadn't moved away in elementary school. Would our parents' jokes about us being a couple have materialized into reality? I guess I'll never really know. Point is, she [i]did[/i] move away, and that was the end of the story... at least until Abby popped up again in our junior year of high school. Her family had moved back to Carver just in time for Abby to rejoin our graduating class. Just like that, the friendship was rekindled. She and I continue to get along famously, despite the threat of a minor romance that never came to pass.

Beneath the still-lit overhead lamps, Abby and I sit on the swing set, gently swaying. I've spent the last half hour getting her up to speed with everything that's been happening in my life. Well, not [i]everything[/i], I suppose; I am, after all, leaving out pretty big details about being a superhero and all. But I've been telling her about the problems I've been having with my girlfriend, Mary, lately, and my inability to say the little three-word phrase that most couples say at this point in the relationship. Through it all, Abby has played the part of caring listener perfectly, nodding and meeting my gaze. As I come to a stop in my ramblings, she says, "Well, Sean, it sounds a lot to me like you need to ask yourself an important question: do you want to commit to this girl, or do you just not want to be alone?"

The suggestion is direct, though not unfair. I do have something of a reputation for being the kind of guy who jumps from one committed relationship to another. It's never been intentional; it's just who I am, I guess. [color=1a7b30]"You're right,"[/color] I concede, wrapping a hand around the cold chain links of the swing. [color=1a7b30]"I hate to admit it, but it's true. I think I let my roommate talk me into it; he was so excited about setting us up."[/color] "Excited" is one way to put it. I don't think Chris would necessarily disagree if I also used the word "pushy."

Abby laughs, though not in a way I would expect. "For as long as I've known you, you've never let yourself be talked into [i]anything[/i] -- particularly where girls are concerned. I think you talked [i]yourself[/i] into it because it beat the alternative."

[color=1a7b30]"The alternative?"[/color]

"Facing the breakup," she explains.

Again, the implication hits too close to home to deny. When Brooke and I agreed to separate after graduation, I threw myself headlong into college preparations. I didn't allow myself to give the breakup a second thought, to go through the natural grieving process. I just forced myself to move on and accept it as fact; now, I'm starting to see that my unresolved business with Brooke is getting in the way of the here-and-now. [color=1a7b30]"You know, Vince suggested the same thing when I mentioned all this to him,"[/color] I point out.

Abby smirks. "I guess I'm starting to rub off on that boy after all."

With the weight of these realizations, I sit back on the swing, allowing my toes to drag a line in the dirt. Sighing, I say, [color=1a7b30]"I guess the right thing to do would be to get some distance from Mary; allow myself to figure out my own headspace before involving anyone else in it."[/color]

Abby bites her lip the way she always does when she agrees with something unfortunate. I think this is why I'll always trust her with my problems: Abby doesn't shy away from the uncomfortable. She doesn't say what you want to hear just to make you feel better. When I talk with her, I know I'm getting the most objective -- and oftentimes correct -- perspective. At the same time, she's empathetic enough to convey how badly she feels to be the bearer of bad news.

I exhale. [color=1a7b30]"This conversation is gonna suck."[/color]

"It will," Abby agrees regretfully, "but it's the right thing to do."


[b]Now...[/b]

Running into your ex is [i]never[/i] fun. Running into your ex not long after telling her, "Sorry, I can't commit to this relationship because I've got unresolved baggage over my [i]other[/i] ex"? Even less so. In fact, the only way I can think to make the whole situation even more dreadful is to imagine running into your ex after the whole "baggage" thing while wearing a doofy apron that says "Tons of Buns" in big, bold letters on it. Luckily, this is my life, so I don't have to imagine it! Hat [i]literally[/i] in hand, I find myself totally unable to remember any of the countless English words that I know I know. I just stand there, faking a half-smile, as I wait to see how Mary responds.

"Sean," she says as though she's just remembered the name and is proud of that fact. Good to see I'm not the only one struggling through this encounter. After mouthing a few words that never quite materialize, she waves me up and down and says, "I... didn't know you worked Wednesdays."

[color=1a7b30]"I didn't,"[/color] I answer almost immediately. Backing up mentally, I explain, [color=1a7b30]"I, uh, switched my schedule around so I could take that marketing class I wanted."[/color]

"Oh! So... you did manage to get in there?"

After a moment, I remember how to nod. [color=1a7b30]"Yeah. Yeah, I... just got lucky, I guess."[/color] No, Sean, luck would be the fire alarm going off right now. Luck would be a meteorite crashing through the roof of Duncan Commons, instantly killing you. Luck would be [i]literally anything[/i] to end this awkward interaction. I haven't even worked out the baggage from my [i]last[/i] breakup; I couldn't find the energy to deal with this one if I tried. I glance over Mary's shoulder. Three minutes until I have to clock-in for my shift, so at most I've gotta survive just that long.

Luckily, Mary seems to have no interest in taking that time, either. "Well, I shouldn't keep you, then. I've... gotta run, anyway." She pauses, and I'm sure it's because she's struggling -- like I am -- to find the right way to say goodbye. "Good to see you" would be a laugh, and "See you around" is practically a death wish. After a silence that drags far too long, she settles on, "Have a good... shift."

Before I can think to respond, she turns on her heel and walks away at an above-average pace. I allow myself to exhale, utterly embarrassed at how poorly that went yet still glad it's over. Pulling my hat down low over my head, I step through the door to Tons of Buns' kitchen and swipe my student ID on the electronic punch clock. As I stride towards the front counter, I see my coworker, Greg Tanner, sifting through the french fries. He glances up at me behind the long tufts of brown hair that stick out from underneath his cap and gives a low whistle. "That encounter was giving [i]me[/i] agita, man."

I try not to let my face redden. [color=1a7b30]"You overhead that?"[/color]

He stands up straight, pressing his hands against his back. "Every painstaking syllable," he admits. He lifts his hat and brushes some of the hair back as he says, "But hey man, breakups. We have all been there. Me more than most, probably."

That brings a genuine smile to my face. [color=1a7b30]"Got any advice?"[/color] I ask.

"As a matter of fact, there's a timeless cure-all that I've always found particularly effective." He steps over to me and throws an arm around my shoulder. I'm reminded of the size difference between us as he hangs over me. "Sorority girls." I can't help but give a little shake of my head as he laughs and continues, "I'm serious, man! Next weekend, my frat is throwing a house party. You should come and mingle!"

[color=1a7b30]"That is patently a terrible idea, trust me,"[/color] I laugh.

"All the more reason to do it, I say," he counters as he steps back, throwing his arms up. "Just think about it is all I'm saying."