Goodbye, Professor Perfect

1

Eight years, and Ben’s mom never took a shine to me. I’d learned to dodge her like a bad credit score. But today, with Ben’s big research project blowing up at school, guess who had to drive her to the airport? Yours truly, the girl with the brand-new license.

And of course, we get rear-ended. In 108-degree heat, Ben's mom slaps me across the face.

I can't get ahold of Ben, but then I see his student, Sarah’s, Instagram story: "My 81st time being rescued by Professor Ben! He even helped me clean a skirt after…well, you know. #MarryMeNow"

The picture? Ben's wearing that expensive shirt I’d scrimped and saved to buy him, all wrinkled and stained with, well, who knows.

Normally, I’d play it cool, pretend I didn’t see. This time? I commented: “Single man, single woman. Go for it.”

Ben's mom couldn't stand me, and Ben always knew it. Every time we’d meet, it’d end in a blow-up. But this time, Ben just threw me to the wolves.

So here I am, on the side of the road. My cheek’s burning from the slap, and I feel like a popsicle left in the sun. Ben’s mom’s still yelling at me, even the guy who rear-ended us is feeling awkward. She's acting like I'm a total screw-up for even trying to drive when it was her idea to use Ben's new car.

All my calls to Ben go straight to voicemail, then he finally texts back: "Can't you handle anything yourself?"

That's when I saw Sarah's post and just… cracked. I realized then there was no future with Ben.

I read up on what to do after a car accident, then, while Ben’s mom kept ranting, I got her a rideshare to the airport.

By the time it was all taken care of, it was evening. Ben still hadn't called. He always got this way when he was swamped - my texts would pile up in the chat, unanswered. I was used to his cold shoulder.

I shut off my phone, made myself a simple bowl of pasta, and went to bed.

2

I woke up to the sound of the front door opening. I glance at the clock on the nightstand – 12:30 AM.

The bedroom door swings open. Ben turns on the light. “You're up? The lab was a disaster today, crazy busy. You okay, nothing major going on?”

The light stabs my eyes. I shield them with my hand, and the whole disaster of my day flashes through my mind - while he was busy washing another girl’s skirt. Now he's asking me like it's just a routine thing, if I'm alright.

I shake my head, "I'm fine." Because yeah, actually, I am. The humiliation of getting slapped in public, the panic of the car crash, it was all over.

Ben nods and heads out, then comes back a second later. “Hey, so, when did you turn into a passive-aggressive drama queen? You say you’re fine, but you’re pulling these weird stunts!”

I sit up, confused. My head’s still pounding from the heat, so I’m a little slow.

It hits me – Ben’s mad I didn’t make him dinner. That’s what he meant by “stunts.”

I used to always leave food in the fridge, no matter how late he got in. That wasn't out of anger. I was just too wiped when I got back.

I get out of bed,...