The Oracle Rebounds

I don’t and I don’t want to. Why can’t this be any other Saturday night at Colonnade Pizza? I must’ve misheard him. He can’t be breaking up with me…. God, he’s so beautiful, with his curly dark hair falling over his forehead, and his blue eyes so tortured. He’s talking again. “Ever since I didn’t get that scholarship to art school, I’ve had to think about what I’m going to do with my life.”

“I get that, but how does that lead to you dumping me?” And then it hits me. He must’ve met another girl. The familiarity between us, the ease of us knowing each other so well, no longer excites him. Before he can answer my question, I throw it out there. “Is there someone else?”

His eyes widen. “Didn’t you hear anything I said?”

“Of course I did. I’m just asking.”

“You’re the only girl and that’s the truth.” He sighs. “I’ve been too into you these past few months. I haven’t been focusing enough on my art. If I’d put more effort into my portfolio, I might’ve gotten that scholarship. I was counting on it, and now I’m not sure what I’ll do. This is an important time in my life and I’ve been spending more time thinking about you than my own future.”

He’s talking, talking, blah, blah, blah…

And all I’m hearing is that I’m being dumped.

“Kayla, are you okay?”

My eyes fill up. My throat is closing. I’m either discovering a new food allergy or having my heart broken. “I’m…surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m not saying this is permanent. I don’t know.”

I’ll wait for you, Jared. I’ll give you time. Whatever you need. But I can’t say it. Pride doesn’t let me. “You’re making a big mistake, don’t you see that? I’m not just going to wait around for you. It’s…insulting!”

He shrugs helplessly. That look in his eyes—it’s killing me. He looks sad, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s for me.

Dumping me is one thing. Pitying me is another. He’s so crossed the line.

“Maybe it’s better if it is permanent,” I say, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “Teen relationships only have a thirteen percent chance of being long-term anyway.”

“That’s the Oracle talking, not you.”

“Yeah, well, we’re one and the same. I’m going to move on, Jared. I’m not going to sit around waiting for you.”

He nods gravely. “I understand.”

I blink. Can he let me go just like that? After spending half a year with him, after telling him I love him, this is humiliating. Didn’t he promise to love me forever? What about that?

“I’m going.” I slide out of the booth.

He grabs my arm. “Kayla…”

“What? Do you have anything more to say?”

“I guess…not.” He lets go of my arm. He can’t even look at me anymore.

“Bye.” And I’m gone.

In the blink of an eye, everything is different. I ride the subway in a daze, torn between tears and hysterical laughter. It’s over. OVER.

As the Oracle of Dating, I should have seen this coming. Sure, Jared has been acting a little weird recently, but I thought that was because he didn’t get the scholarship to art school. I’d hated to see him so disappointed, and I’d done everything I could to cheer him up. He seemed to be feeling better the past few days, like he’d finally accepted it and turned a corner. Maybe the real reason his mood had improved was because he’d made the decision to send me to Dumpsville.

I remember reading in one of Mom’s relationship books that sometimes when people feel powerless in their lives, they dump their significant other because that’s one part of their lives they do have control over. Worse, sometimes they blame their partner for their problems. Maybe that’s what Jared is doing. “I’ve been too into you these past few months.” Aren’t you supposed to be into the person you’re dating?

Well, Jared, if I’d known it was a problem for you, I wouldn’t have been so damned fantastic!

Whatever, he made his decision. I have to move on. There are lots of cute guys around. It’s not like I haven’t noticed them. I have!

Half an hour later, I get home. I live on a quiet street in Midwood, Brooklyn, with big old trees that shed branches whenever there’s heavy rain or wind. I’ve lived in this old brownstone ever since I can remember. Dad left us the house when he and Mom divorced, though apparently he made Mom buy him out. Since my sister, Tracey, is ten years older than me and lives in Manhattan, it’s just me, Mom and my stepdad, a Swedish theologian named Erland.

Mom’s car is gone, which is good because I don’t feel like talking right now. I just want to go to my room and bawl. First I have to get past Erland, who’s in the living room watching PBS. I close the door quietly and creep toward the stairs.

“What are you doing home so early?”

Great. I go back into the living room. “Jared…” My chin quivers. “H-he b-broke up w-with me.”

“I’m sorry to hear this,” he says with his thick Swedish-chef accent. “Can I offer you a hug?”

I almost laugh at the formal offer, but I go to receive his hug. “Thanks.” I sit beside him on the couch. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s his loss!”

He chuckles. “That’s true. And you are both very young, too young to get serious.”

“I know.” The Oracle is always advising teen girls not to get too serious about their relationships. I’ve seen so many of them devastated when their boyfriends break up with them. The truth is, many guys just aren’t ready for anything serious at our age. Knowing that, I’d shied away from relationships myself, since the odds of them working are extremely low. And then I met Jared, and my good sense went out the window. I thought we had a once-in-a-lifetime connection, a connection worth taking a risk for. And now…Dumpsville.

“What I’m saying is,” Erland continues in his slow, professorly way, “as we get older, we learn more about what qualities are important to us in a partner.”

“I know you’re right. It just hurts.” I’ve read that heartbreak is an accepted cause of death in some South American countries. I don’t want to die. What a waste to die over a guy!

Erland hands me some tissue. “I had my heart broken when I was young. The girl was named Hannah…or maybe it was Krista.”

“She broke your heart and you can’t even remember her name?”

“It appears that way.” He laughs. “She was such a beautiful girl, and she promised me she’d always be mine. I thought we might marry one day. And then one week before our prom, she broke up with me. I later heard she attended with another boy, one of the school’s best hockey players.”

“That’s harsh. I bet she’d regret it if she knew you were one of the world’s top Martin Luther scholars.”

Erland blushes. “I doubt she would have appreciated my career in theology. We were not well matched, she and I, and in time I realized that. If I had stayed with her I would’ve had a very different life. I will always be glad that she broke up with me because otherwise I never would have met your mother, who is truly my soul mate.”

Erland believes in soul mates? I didn’t peg Erland for the romantic type. But then, I didn’t peg him for an astrologer either, yet he is. “So after this girl dumped you, how long before you met Mom?”

“About thirty years.”

“Thirty years!” I know Erland’s old, but holy crap, that’s a long time. “I don’t think I can wait thirty years to meet someone else.”

“I met other women in that time. But for true love, yes, I had to wait thirty years. I doubt it will take that long for you.”

I hope not!

For the first time, I go to my website to find help for me.

After chatting with Erland a little more, I head upstairs and log on to oracleofdating.com. It’s a great-looking site, colorful and user friendly, thanks to Tracey’s web design skills. These days I give most of my advice via live chats. I still have the phone line, but it’s barely profitable.