She Said, He Said

"Do you still love me?" she asks.

No reply.

"I miss you," she prompts, hopefully.

No reply.

"Do you miss me?" she asks.

"Sometimes." He surprises her with the coolness of his reply. 

"Only sometimes?" She knits her brows together.

No reply.

"You are over me." She begins to cry.

"I am definitely not over you," he says, almost cynically.

Hope soars in her chest.

"May I sit with you?" she asks.

"Yes."

She reaches for him and he pulls her in close, snuggling them into the old familiar position on the sofa. She notices that he has lost weight and there are new lines around the corners of his eyes. His heartbeat feels good beneath her ear. It is so good to touch him again. She reaches her small hand up to touch his face, letting her fingers slide down his coarse facial hair. 

"I see you still have your beard," she says. 

He chuckles.

"I would have thought it would have been the first thing to go," she continues. "I had to beg to get you to grow it in the first place."

"I rather like it after all," he shrugs. 

She lets her finger trace the outline of the beard before settling on his lips. 

"I miss you all the time," she begins. "Without you, I am lost. You are my anchor. I am the ball and you are the tether. I'm flailing now. Going in every direction. Never knowing when or where or if I'll land. I don't know what to do anymore." She feels the wetness rolling down her cheeks and soaking his shirt. "I can't do anything anymore without thinking about you. I can't walk down a single street without remember being on that street with you. I can't dress myself in any clothes I own without thinking about a time I wore them with you. Even these flip flops that I have on-" here she raises a foot to show him "-I remember when I bought them on the way down to the river last summer with you." She lets the foot drop. "I can't go anywhere in K's house without thinking about that Halloween party that we spent there-you know the one where you dressed up like K and I like Eve. We were such a hit."

He gives no comment. His silence maddening her further. 

"Do you want to see me again?" she whispers. She knows she should let this go. Give him space. But it is a compulsion. She cannot stop.

There is no reply. 

"Please," she begs, breaking her silent vow not to beg. "I need to know." She cups his chin and pulls his face towards her, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"You know I don't do well with words," he says at last. 

She feels her hope sinking. "Is that because you are trying to sugar coat them for me?" she asks.

"No," he says. "I just prefer to write it. When I can backspace or delete."

She instinctively holds him tighter. The thought crosses her mind that this might be her last chance to do so and she wants to savor every moment while she can. 

"I don't want an email," she says. 

"I know," he says.

"I deserve more than an email," she says. "After six years I deserve to have you say it to my face."

No reply.

"Say it to my face," she demands. "Tell me that you don't love me. Tell me that you don't want to see me anymore."

There is no reply. 



 
RedRamona RedRamona
31-35, F
May 15, 2012