‘Did you miss me?’ he asked as he reached across the table for her hand.
He held it in both hands, his soft hands. Almost softer than hers.
She looked into his eyes, and said ‘of course, didn’t you miss me?’.
Her insincerity was more than apparent, it was glaring.
Even though she desperately was trying to hide it.
Trying to be ‘present’ trying to be ready for it.
It had been only 4 days since they had last seen each other, 4 short days, since that night he dropped her off at her house, since that night they got too carried away in his car.
Fueled by alcohol and the newness of it all. Not that she didn’t want to get carried away.
She wanted nothing more than to be carried away, to have butterflies instead of dusty old moths in her belly…turning, churning, flitting and flicking, but no fluttering.
She was terrified.
Terrified of going through it all. The build up, the let down.
The disappointment was so terrifying she was willing to never have to go
through the butterflies again just to avoid it.
She wanted the butterflies so badly, desperately.
But she just couldn’t.
All this showed. It sabotaged everything.
But she could do nothing to stop it. At every turn all she thought, worried, obsessed about was whether or not she could do this again.
Why she set herself up for it, she didn’t know.
A small part of her heart was still glowing red amidst the blackened mass.
Still hoped, still wished, still dreamed. So naively.
All she wanted to do was hold onto this small lonely heart part.
If it was removed, covered, tinted to black by the disappointment, it would ruin her.
It would take so little, so very little, to kill it, kill her.
She wasn’t sure she could handle it, mentally, emotionally.
She needed to go slower, needed to trust. Needed to believe.
And it wasn’t there yet. It might never be.
And the disappointment of that, of that alone, hurt more than anything, more than any failed relationship ever could. She was trying to convince herself that she didn’t care about or like this guy. Everyday she found new reasons why it wouldn’t work, why there was no way he could want her for more than just pure lust. They hadn’t even had sex yet, but she knew he wanted to. It was very obvious, to her and to anyone who watched the two of them together. There was definite chemistry, definite affection. And no qualms about showing it on his part. Those qualms belonged to her alone.
It was too much to bear, it was too hard.
Her justification for all her worries, amounted to nothing.
She was disappointing herself. And there was no justifying that.
She was driving herself crazy, and ruining any chance she had to heal herself, to change her heart, her whole heart, back to the red it should be.
She looked at him and smiled.
She had lost so much, and had gained so little back.
His imploring eyes across the table made her feel guilty, weak, ruled by fear and paranoia, she silently implored back ‘please, god, please, don’t disappoint me, make me believe this, make me believe that I deserve this, heal this’
But she didn’t,
and she realized what it was that she really, truly, desperately missed…
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