Avi Kaplan: A Collection of Short Stories

Give Up

Give up.

What a dirty connotation those two little words had.

Separately, they were perfectly fine words. Give: 1) to present voluntarily and without expecting, 2) to grant, 3) to impart. Up: 1) to, toward, or in a more elevated position, 2) above the horizon, 3), to raise; go better than.

People gave their all; gave gifts; were giving; gave a part of themselves. You moved on up; reached up to the stars; looked up to the heavens; looked up to others.

Perfectly good words.

Until you put them together.

+++

When you first met Avi, he seemed to encompass you, his entire being swirling around each crevice, filling you with a warm sense of contentment. He bled into your life like wet ink on paper, slowly, unassumingly crawling to fill the open spaces he found there. And you accepted this intrusion with open arms, the warm, solid, realness of him your anchor in a chaotic life.

His fingers and hands, lips and tongue ignited within you a glowing spark of fire that consumed you from the inside out. His voice sent shivers down your spine, his laugh infecting your soul in the most delightful way, burrowing deep, almost becoming a part of you. You loved nothing more than just being with him, content to watch him sleep, his feet in your lap as he snored or staying awake, whispering into the darkness of night, fingers light against each other's skin as you divulged each other's secrets.

But the thought of telling him you loved him sent shivers of ice straight through your chest that melted and pooled uncomfortably in your stomach.

+++

Avi had a few days off from touring, the first of which he had kept you in bed with nothing but him and the tangled sheets for warmth. At the end of it all, you were almost loathe to leave. He had just grinned at you as you groaned and pulling you from the bed, kissed you deeply before whispering into the corner of your mouth, "Go get dressed. I want to take you out."

You had sauntered away from the bed, a sway in your hips and turning your head over your shoulder, you gave Avi a wink as he openly stared at your naked skin. You just laughed as he caught up with you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing wet kisses to your shoulder.

You eventually pulled away long enough to dress and drive to the restaurant. The ambiance was perfect, low lighting with a few candles, the gentle sway of classical music in the background. You smiled at Avi over your dinner, taking a sip of your wine, nodding towards him in a silent 'cheers'.

Avi returned the favor and taking another sip, before setting the glass down, his fingers lingering on the long glass stem. His eyes briefly left yours, staring down at his fingers and you saw him swallow hard before looking back up at you. The intensity behind his green eyes shot a shiver down your spine and you felt your heartbeat in your chest.

"I love you."

The words flowed so effortlessly off his tongue and into the space between you, like they had been living there, clamoring to be said since he first met you. They hung heavy in the air and a strange fear began to worm its way into your heart, the words that should sound sweet, sounding somewhat discordant to your ears.

You couldn't speak, any possible response you could think of lost in the swirling commotion of your mind and you sat there, mouth slightly agape.

"Avi, I can't," you finally whispered, your voice cracking, "I can't."

+++

I love you.

Three little words.

Three little words that always felt uncomfortable and bitter in your mouth and against your tongue. There were deep canyon-like voids in your heart and mind, carved there by previous relationships that held you back from truly enjoying those three words.