you would remember them. I just
enjoyed being next to you, and pretended everything was fine.
Yet again, as I rethink all that happened between us, I
can’t believe I let you make me doubt myself. I allowed you inside my heart and
instead of being amazing, all falling in love did was tire me out. In less than
two days I had become unsure of who I was, what I felt, and what I was doing. What
we were doing and where we were going. You got under my skin and unsettled my
mind, and I didn’t even realise it was happening.
How clever you were.
Mea culpa.
After our walk, you took me to my car and hugged me tight.
You said goodbye without looking me in the eyes and without so much as a kiss
on the cheek. As you turned away from me, I knew I was losing you. I don’t know
why, but I knew in my heart you weren’t just turning to walk away, you were
turning away from me completely. Slowly turning to stone in front of my eyes.
I reached out and grabbed your hand, you paused. Your skin
was warm which surprised me. For some reason I had expected it to be cold. Like
the ice that was spreading between us, slowly cutting me off, was going to be
on your skin.
You looked back at me, eyebrows raised, impatience on your
face. I felt like a petulant child aching to be loved.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a hurry. I wanted to rush my words
out and make it all OK. I wanted your coldness to melt and you to be just like
before. The Drew I knew and loved. But you just looked at me, unreadable. “I’m
sorry I got mad at you,” I pressed on. “I’m sorry if you think I’m needy, I
just like being around you and I miss you when we’re apart. I shouldn’t have
told you to leave Pan for me. It’s your choice to be made in your own time. I
just thought you should know that if you wanted it, I want it too. I’m here for
you. I won’t rush you into anything and I don’t expect you to love me back
before you’re ready. I just want us to be OK.”
Your eyes almost burnt my skin you watched me so close, but
I still couldn’t read your face. I didn’t know what you were thinking.
“We are OK,” you replied. You gave me your best arrogant
smile, kissed the palm of my hand and walked away.
You lying bastard. We weren’t OK.
You Are You And I Am Me… But We Are Not A We…
I didn’t hear from you for two days.
It was longest we had gone without talking and the biggest, most painful,
silence of my life. But I didn’t break it. I never called. I never text. I
wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to be needy or annoying. I thought if I
left you, you would figure out whatever it was you had a problem with, then we
could just carry on same as before.
On the third day I cracked and called you.
You were at work and said you were too busy to chat. You
said you would meet me at my house later, eight pm.
At eight pm you weren’t there. I had my jacket on because
the summer was ending and the nights were getting chilly. I waited by the
window.
At ten pm I heard your bike roar. I had long abandoned the
window, watching TV on the sofa with my mum instead, my jacket still on. At the
rumble of your exhaust, I jumped up and came outside. You propped the bike up
at the kerb and took your helmet off, running a hand through your dark hair. It
gave my butterflies. You were so gorgeous. I remember thinking no wonder. No
wonder he is bored of me. I could never be enough.
“Sorry I’m late,” you said without a flicker of a smile or
sincerity. “Pan needed me.”
Your words hit me straight in the chest, but I swallowed
them away, telling myself they meant nothing. “Is she OK?”
You shrugged. “Work drama. I don’t know. She needed a
shoulder to cry on and all that.”
“Do you think she knows about us?” I asked.
You looked at me and crinkled your eyes. “Why would she?”
“I don’t know. You’re hardly at home, I suppose. I guess if
it were me I’d wonder where you were.”
You put your helmet in front of you and
Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant