Evermore: A Collection of Short Stories

2

You started it. It was an ordinary day. No expectations. I was sitting at my desk, same as always. I'd seen you around A ghost on my radar. A cursory smile. A nod. There were other things on my mind. Bigger. Better. Shinier. You almost passed me by.

That day was different. I was wearing a new dress. The sun was out, bathing me through the window. I didn't see it coming. The air changed when you walked in. I could feel the undercurrent before I knew where it was taking me. Then you looked at me. You smiled. All those days and I never knew your name. Someone else introduced us. You were shy in my gaze, trying to hold onto the confidence that was so rightfully yours. But when our eyes met, something happened. Something I'd read about but never understood. Something so instant. So primal. So raw I had to second guess it. This doesn't happen in real life. But it was happening. It was and it wasn't. It was real. It was in my mind. It was a connection. A beautiful story. You could only dare to look at me sometimes. In trying to hide we gave ourselves away.

 You sat near me. I tried to concentrate. Tried to look away. Tried to untangle the narrative I'd spun. I heard you talking to someone else. Then you said the words. 'My wife.' It should have been the end. There was disappointment. Numbness. You see? This doesn't happen in real life. I was relieved. I don't have to feel this. Tie myself up in knots or tie my self-worth to your eyes and the way you hold me in them. I don't have to endure the push and pull. The bait and switch. The agony. I don't have to learn your smell. Don't need to know how it feels to have my hands around the back of your neck. To have your breath on mine. Don't need to learn all about you. To discover you. To find out what's within and without. Learn every scar, every bruise, every imperfection. I don't have to become you. Don't need to make you everything I'm not. Don't need to get lust mixed up with envy. I'm free. That should have been the end. It wasn't.

 I saw something. The way you blushed. The way to tried to insert yourself into my conversations then back away. The explosions when our eyes met. You had to feel it. Magnetism like that isn't one-sided. I tripped myself up in self-doubt. Tried to talk myself down. Why would you want me? Why would you choose me when you already had everything? You said 'good morning' like it was a secret. A joke that we would act like strangers when we both knew what we knew. But maybe it was all civility. Nothing more. Not fireworks. Not sweaty palms. Not hearts racing. The nod you gave me was surely just a nod. It wasn't a smiling admission. A look of amusement as we acknowledged the unacknowledged.

 I didn't know what to do with the feelings. I was careful. Said 'hello' then avoided you. There were days when you were behind every door. Around every corner. I could go anywhere and I know you would come. I knew you would find me. Even if I was nowhere near.

 It surprised me how easily I remembered the rules. The talking to everyone but you. Making loud conversation. Saying anything. Laughing loud enough for you to hear. To see. Greeting others with a warmth not quite earned. Making sure you knew. It was just relocated enough to hide behind if I got  caught out. Feign innocence. Keep my dignity. My pride. But I could  reveal small truths. You were the only one I couldn't talk to. The only one I couldn't face.  

'My wife, my wife, my wife.' I used the words. Tried to tether myself down with them. Bring me back to the ground. You had already found her. The one whose love for you had started as a series of looks. Of inflections. Of warmth hidden then revealed slowly. There was no room for me. 'My wife, my wife, my wife.' I couldn't reconcile those words with you. With the  drawing charge between us. The bait and switch. It was all confused. All twisted up. I didn't know where to go.

 The days turned into weeks. The roller-coaster. The little highs. The chances to speak to you. The looks I caught. The feeling. The crushing lows. Seeing you be kind to someone else. Wondering if it was just who you were. The jealousy. The inexplicable hatred for those you were comfortable enough to speak to. To laugh with. Thinking about her. The 'wife'. The abstract idea I couldn't make real. The nights alone. Untouched. Unloved. Dreaming  of you while you slept next to her. Driving down a cul-de-sac, turning and turning, tyres burning on tarmac, smoke in the air. Choking. The times I sat raging  against nothing. To no one. Pausing behind a door when I heard your voice. Could I face being close but not close enough?