Learning To Love

chapter 21

He didn't say it back, Infact it was as though he were dreading I would say those exact words. Which was why he even cared to ask why? Why would someone like you fall in love with someone like me? That's what he meant.

Without another word, I turned my head and started the car engine. He sighed and strapped in his seatbelt. It was hot outisde, birds and bugs sang out loudly through my window.

I let the wind dry the sweat off my face as I drove down onto Lucas's street. Pulling up to the curb and parking the car, I wasn't sure if this was the end of today, or the end of us, that was for him to decide. And I would willow and cry no matter what choice he made, becuase loving him was more terrifying than losing him, but it was losing him that I didn't want.

"Have a good day Ollie..." He said in a very calm and conservative tone. I nodded my head. I took one last good look in his eyes, remembering today in all its glory and pain. This was it. I told myself.

He left the car and started walking towards the apartment entrance.

I let out a deep exhale from all the pent up breath in my lungs. I wanted to scream, punch the steering wheel as hard as I could, rip all of my clothes off and burn blissfully in a fire. I gripped my shirt thinking about it, felt its soft material inbetween my fingers. But it was soft and not scratchy and tough like mine.

Becuase it wasn't my shirt...

Was this a sign? Was it not over? Did he do it on purpose? Is he hoping that I will come back to return it, and then, maybe just then, he will confess his love for me?!

No, its just a shirt. One that I will never ever want to take off.

I hugged it against my skin, as though it were him I was hugging, and I cried. I cried so hard, for him because I knew Lucas wouldn't cry, and for me becuase there was too much pain to bare.

Would I have been better off if I had just stayed home today? Most likely. Every two steps we took, we took one back. Going forwards, but going backwards, moving, but slowly. Sometimes, not even moving at all.

He might see that my car is still parked here and if I lingered any longer, I would hope that maybe he would come back, tell me it's not over. I couldn't give myself that much hope. I couldn't let him know how utterly desperate I was for him. Not as desperate as I was for happiness though.

I drove back home.

The old man's car was there. A part of me wondered where he had been, but most of me didn't want to know. He's out and then he's home, and then he's gone again. I didn't want to think about anything right now, but thoughts and memories and worries were swimming around freely in my head

Right now, all I could think about was my mom.

How she would kiss my forehead and look me in the eyes when I cried to tell me that it would be okay. She told me not to be afraid. We would sit up in the Attic late at night, she would talk about her dream wedding, and she would draw all these dresses. Throughout the week, she would spend all her free time secretly making dresses out of old cloths and curtains. When we hid in the Attic, we dance around in them and sometimes we would sing, but not too loudly.

She was a brilliant woman.

I wiped a tear from my eye before walking into the house.

Oh mother, if only you were still alive now, you would have made a million of those dresses.

When I walked down the hall I found that it smelt like spices, specifically like basil.

Was he cooking?