When You Left

38

01. 11. 14

        Whenever you used to talk about the six years you spent in Greece you always got this almost whimsical look in your eyes and a goofy grin on your face. You talked about it with flailing arms and a high octave. And I remember, in those moments is when I loved you the most. Because you spoke with such passion, such reverence that it made my palms sweat and my heart race.

        I always hoped that you would talk about me like that someday.

        But, seeing you sitting in our armchair, a wretched look in your eyes, your hands still, and your voice low as you spoke to me about your decision, I did not feel any warmth. Only quiet suffering.

        “You left me because you’re planning to move to Greece?” I spoke quietly and took a seat on the couch as I tried to wrap the idea of you being halfway across the world in my brain.

        “Sort of.” You were always so cryptic. I felt desperation claw at my throat and I turned to you with a soft plea in my eyes.

        “I could go with you. To Greece, I mean. You don’t have to break up with me to move.” I’m wincing now as I recall our conversation, at how pathetic I sounded. Because you were shaking your head before I even finished speaking.

        “I’m not going to Greece for the novel,” You were quiet for a while and you weren’t looking at me, my gut started to churn, “Daphne has leukemia.”

        Daphne. Daphne your ex-fiancé. Daphne; the woman you left at the altar. My head spun.

        You ran you’re hand down your face as if even the idea was exhausting to you. I felt bile rise in my throat and I still couldn’t understand what that had to do with you.

        “She called me five months ago and told me she was going to die. She told me that she didn’t want to die alone –that she never stopped loving me,” oh god, “She told me she wanted me to be there for her when the chemo stopped working.”

        You still couldn’t meet my eyes and I couldn’t control my breathing. I suddenly began to hate myself. Hate myself for being jealous of her. Hate myself because even now as I sit here recalling this; I hate her. Hate her for taking you away from me.

        “So, you did leave me for another woman.” I breathed, tears welling up in my eyes and breathing becoming increasingly erratic from saying the words out loud.

        “It’s not like that.”

        “Then, what is it like?”

        “She has no one, Daisy.” That’s when I got mad. I stood up so fast, my vision blurred and selfish words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

        “Neither do I, Parker,” I yelled and you looked at me in shock as Yoda ran from my outburst, “You are all I have! But, now… Now I’m going to be alone all over again! You left me! You left me! You couldn’t even man up and explain why you got up and left without a word. Fuck, Parker! Fuck!”

        I yelled so loud that you flinched and I threw my empty glass at the wall; the glass shattering and chipping away at the paint. I crouched down and put my head in my hands before starting to yank on my hair –a bad habit I thought I had cured.

        You lowered yourself down to my position and looked unsure of what to do before you wrapped my body in your arms and pulled me against your chest. And the rhythmic sound of your familiar heartbeat is what did me in.