Unwritten Words

AJ

I don't know how or why you started calling me my favorite nickname, but you did. Just sent it one day in a text. And I was thrown back. Way, way back to my memories of being called it. How I savored it from my brother's tongue. Or laughed with it on Emmelie's lips. 

And you called me it. Continue to do so too. Without a single idea how it feels like a soft caress of my cheek each time. 

It's been two months since I last saw you. We tried to hang out between there. But... it never happened. You're too busy. Which I think is a lame excuse, but I'll take it I guess. Granted, you never even used that excuse, I was left to just assume the reasoning behind your distance.

And today, you surprised me. You showed up to church. Went and watched me from whatever corner you sat in. I only know because of our texts, our bantering back and forth. I was so excited to see you afterwards. And so incredibly nervous. I even stalled walking out the door since I was afraid to see you. I talked to some old friend, determined to make you wait as long as I could.

But you had left. Just darted out in an attempt to escape the traffic. 

Part of me wonders if that was the truth. Or if you were afraid just as much as I was to see each other. Since who knows what will happen? What should we say? How should we act? Should I hug you dearly as I so wish to? Grasp onto you as if I was afraid to let go? Or just give you the typical, modest side hug? How am I supposed to act once I finally see you, after all this time of silence? Of reaching out and getting little in return?

It is scary. And awkward. But how I yearn for it. For all this distance to end. Today could've been it, but it wasn't...it wasn't.

Then afterwards, my mind spinning still from our texts, I go to your old youth pastor's house. I had a meeting there and you wanted me to take a picture lol. So I did. In the mist of that though I got to talk with your pastor's wife--Amanda. She asked how you were. How we knew each other. How close we were. I played it coolly. Told her the bare simple facts. Nothing as complicated as how I look forward to your texts like kids wait for the ice cream truck on a summer's day. 

She then asked if you were dating anyone?

"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't know any of that." I wouldn't truly. We don't talk enough.

"Oh, I was just wondering," she said. "The last time we spoke he was in some kind of situationship and wanted our advice. Wanted to see if you knew anything."

My heart skipped at this. I kept my poise though. Brushed it off. Since I don't know anything. 

I. Don't. Know. Anything. At all.

But I can't help wondering. Was she referring to me? To us? Did you ask them about what to do with me? 

Or worse, was this about some other girl? Someone long ago, or maybe recent? 

And suddenly, I'm dizzy and I want to speak with you but your word limit was reached for the day and I knew it would be pointless. You would never respond if I texted you. 

sigh. Why can't we speak more? Why can't you stay? Why do all our conversations have to be at your whim?

Do you know how emotionally draining that is? To wait on the edge of your life, hoping to get in, and getting just glimpses? To continue staring at an shut door?

Listen. I'm not in love. I can't be. Nor am I obsessing over you. 

But I think of you. 

It would be enough if you thought of me too.

~~~

You make me feel weak. And pathetic. 

Love does that to me. Any sort of affection or attention from the male-specimen in a romantic manner, really.