When You Left

37

01. 11. 14

    The next morning you released me from your hold, wiped your eyes, and helped me out of bed. Sandra and Benny came back to make sure I was okay and avoided your guilty gaze for as long as possible. Benny even offered to give me a ride home, but you sent him a cold look and told him that you had it covered.

Benny made it a point to touch me as much as possible; a hand on my shoulder, fingers stroked my hair, dried my eyes, and gave me a lingering hug. Like I was a fire hydrant and he was pissing all over me. Though, I did see your jaw clench and your hands twitch at our obvious comfort with each other.

I chose not to say anything, even if I desperately wanted to.      

Sandra had pulled you aside just as we were leaving and said something to you that made your face go pale and your eyes widen in fear. You later told me that she had threatened to castrate you if you hurt me again.

She might be a sixty year old woman, but let me tell you, I had never seen you so frightened.

When we got down to your old truck I couldn’t help but notice the pillows, blankets, and bags in the back. You flushed when you saw that I saw. You steadied my waist and held my hand as you lowered me into the truck as if I was glass that could break any second. And frankly, I was beginning to think I was.

The car ride to the apartment was filled with a deafening silence and I couldn’t help but notice you squirm in your seat and glance at my still figure every so often. You knew the way home like the back of your hand and when we finally pulled up to the building, a small sad smile had tugged on your lips.

I wasn’t sure if you were going to come in or even how long you planned on staying, but my eyes were trained on you the entire time, afraid you were going to pull another vanishing act.

But, you didn’t.

In fact, you dug out your key for the apartment and let yourself in like you had never even left. Then you tried to toss your keys on the table next to the door, not realizing that I had moved it. You glanced at me sheepishly and then really took a look around the apartment.

I tried to gauge your reaction as you took in the array of clothes that littered the hardwood, the empty containers of food that filled the coffee table, and the sketches and art supplies that popped up in every corner of the living room and kitchen. It wasn’t until you realized the fact that I had completely rearranged all the furniture that your eyes widened and a sad sheen glossed over your eyes.

“It looks so different.” You spoke quietly, but the words barely left your mouth before Yoda came racing out of our –sorry- my room, barking at you the entire way. I have never seen him look so happy. You cooed at him and rubbed behind his ears before noticing how shaky his legs were.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Lyme Disease. He’s better now.” Short. Cold. Detached.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, sounding a bit angry, but when I sent you a you’re-kidding-right look, you shut right up. An uncomfortable silence blanketed us as you pet Yoda and took in how much had changed since you left and I just continued to watch you.

It’s funny because I had so many questions, so many things I had built myself to say over the months on the off-chance that I would actually see you again. But, now that you’re actually here in front of me, in our apartment, petting our dog, I found myself completely speechless.

Instead of saying all the words that have been resting on my tongue since the moment you walked out of my life, I offered you a drink instead.

“Are you sure you should be drinking?” Your eyebrows furrowed in worry, but I resisted the urge to smooth them out.