It was time for us to separate because the air between us was saturated in angst. Angst because we had no wisdom to share about our future, only frustration that we might not ever have one. So I stood and he asked me, “Can I at least hear from you sometime?”
And I gave my painful grin. “You know that’s not how I operate. I’m not going to bother you for anything.”
"But at least we’ll be civil."
Our angst had begun to form on our skin and I went to hug him, because he was, still, the love of my life, and I, a love of some sort to him. We held each other like we never could have before— not too tightly because we hoped it could happen again, but still naturally because we finally understood our importance to the other.
He didn’t let go but said, “I really do care about you. I always have. And I’m sorry I made you feel like I used you. I never meant for this to happen.”
I let go, took a step back, caught some tears from my cheek, and just said “Thank you.” But that wasn’t enough for him and he reached out for me again.
Reality breezed by and cleared a little of our angst, and we slowly let go and turned away from each other without any more unnecessary words.
- I: Look, I know I fucked up. I know I abused your trust and mistreated you, and I know you think I used you. But I don't know what else to do because I've said I was sorry and that's not enough for you.
- J: Have you?
- I: Yes.
- J: I don't think you have.
- I: All I've done is try with you for three months.
- J: Asking me to pointlessly hang out and being sorry are not the same thing.
- I: I just want you back in my life. I want to be able to talk to you and come up here and go for a walk and get lunch together.
- And I am sorry.
- J: But I'm your second choice, and I always have been.