The Space Between You and Me

PART FOUR

unedited

It took fifteen hours for me to return to the town that I once called home; the town that contained you and me and all of our memories, the town that I fell in love in, the town that I had my heart broken in, the town where you were. One plane, two buses and a train and I was standing in front of your front door, the welcome mat leering at me. I was no longer welcome in this town.

I knocked three times. My chest felt tight, throat dry, questions whirling in my heart - were you home, were they home, did you really want to see me again after all these years, a physical reminder of the pain and hate and sadness, what if this was a mistake, oh my gosh this was a mistake oh my oh my oh oh - and then you were there, standing in front of me. This was a dream. You couldn't really be there, I couldn't really be here, we couldn't be together.

You looked tired, lips pressed together into a tight line, eyebrows furrowed, eyes glassy; yet you still looked so beautiful, a masterpiece of skin and flesh and bone. I looked at my feet, too scared to look you in the eye for too long in case I lost my composure. (Were they home?) You said, 'come in', and I nodded, shuffling past as you held the door open for me, knuckles white. I held my breath as I entered the home, your home, the home you built without me. I clenched my fists and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket, your jacket, given to me on a night many, many years ago, too scared to touch anything in case I damaged it with my sinful hands. Your home was too perfect to be infected by my sickness, the crisp white walls and matching cream curtains. I didn't belong here.

You offered me a drink, 'coffee or tea?', and I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek to stop the stream of words that were threatening to spill out of my mouth. You told me to take a seat so I did, perched delicately on the edge of your perfect maroon couch, knees shaking anxiously.

I was quiet. You were quiet. Where do we begin?

I asked you how you'd been, to which you replied with a shrug. My eyes skimmed the room erratically, jumping from object to object to object trying to find something, anything to discuss or mention or question, anything to try to dissolve awkward tension between us. I jumped from the bowl of fruit on the perfect white kitchen bench to the opened newspaper haphazardly thrown on the perfect white coffee table between us to the lipstick stains on the coffee mug to the ring on your left hand, where they settled. My heart clenched painfully, threatening to burst at any second. How much pain could the human heart endure before it shut down completely, exploding into a thousand pieces in my chest?

My gaze was fixated on the gold ring, the lump in my throat threatening to suffocate me. You never really loved me, everything we had was a lie built on teenage lust and reckless hope because if you had really loved me, (like I loved you) you wouldn't have pledged yourself to someone else, in sickness and health. Did you even remember the night that you bared your soul to me, fearless and terrified at the same time? Did you even remember what it felt like to have my hands on your back, lips covering yours, eyes closed and hearts beating as on? Did you want to remember?

My hands began to shake. I wasn't welcome here. I didn't belong here. What was I doing here again?

Your lips were moving, forming words that hung in the air between us, but I couldn't hear them. My senses were overloaded with thoughts of you and how soft your lips were and how you used to run your hands through my hair to calm me down and how you still fucking smelt like peppermints and lemon and home; a home that I wasn't a part of.

I stood abruptly, bony knees knocking against the coffee table. I said, 'I have to go', and you said, 'but we need to talk', to which I replied, 'there is nothing to talk about', because there wasn't; you didn't love me (like I loved you).

Hands shoved in pockets once more, I scrambled away from you, away from the painful reminders of everything we didn't have. Everything we could have had. I thought I had made it pass you when your hand clamped down on my shoulder, strong and warm and demanding. You told me that you needed to talk to me. The fact that you needed me (not them) was enough to make me freeze. My heart pounded, blood rushing to my cheeks from the sudden contact. Why did you still have a hold of me, even after so many years?

Everything I had tried so hard to forget came flooding back, a tidal wave of longing glances and nights spent on the bonnet of your father's car and phone calls until three in the morning and rocks on my window and rocks on your window and you holding me in your arms until I fell asleep and fuck.

Your voice boomed in my ears, smooth as molasses as your hand slid down my back. Sit down, you said. We will talk, you said. Please, you said. I was, am, still under your influence, easily persuaded by a false promise of hope.

I sat. Once more, you were seated opposite me, hands resting on knees, the gold ring glistening in the sunlight. I wanted to throw up.

And so talked, as you promised we would. A casual conversation between two acquaintances and nothing more. No sparks, fireworks, earth-shattering glances. I wondered what we had, if we even had anything, all those years ago. Was it all a figment of my imagination? Was it a fantasy created in my brain? I wanted to kiss you, oh god I wanted to kiss you, to validate the years I had spent wasting my life away.

You looked down, hands clenched into fists. I leaned forward, biting the nails on my left hand, a habit I had picked up somewhere between the nights spent pressed against a stranger and the days spent scrounging up cash for my next fix. Or was it a habit that I picked up from you? I will never know.

We were silent once more, the air settling between us. What was the reason for my journey? I could no longer remember. Yet again I got lost in your presence, the overpowering strength and warmth you oozed washed over me and I forgot how to swim. Seconds passed. Minutes passed. My knee bounced at a furious pace. Your waves crashed over me.

You opened your mouth only to close it again. What was there left to talk about? I could ask you if you enjoyed destroying me, if you took pleasure out of ripping my heart out, but I was afraid of the answer. I couldn't stand the thought of you hating me, no matter how hard I tried to hate you. You were my everything.

At least you were until the sound of keys jingling in your front door broke the silence, followed by a muttered curse and a loud thud and a, 'babe, can you please help me?'.

My entire body tensed, ready to flee from the single person threatening my dream of a perfect life, the single person who was living my dream of a perfect life in a perfect white house with a perfect garden and a perfect lover. It was fight or flight and I was a lousy aim.

You looked at me, eyes full of something that I still can't put my finger on. Happiness? Sadness? Shock? I wanted to flee but my muscles refused to move. You told me to wait, standing quickly and going to help your perfect lover carry their perfect groceries into your perfect home; and I waited, hands clasped together, knees bouncing, an elephant sitting on my chest. I missed my opportunity to run, my opportunity of flight, and now I was left with one option.

It was time to meet your lover.

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i apologise for the delay, although i'm usually a horrendous author who never updates, this gap has been significantly large. long story short, i've hurt my back and i can't sit down for extended periods of time which makes writing a pain in the ass. hopefully, there will be a new update in the next two weeks-ish, so stay tuned and thank u for reading xx