Waiting

I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. I'm waiting by the pier near Porter's Rock, and it's beginning to rain. I tried to look nice today, so I wore a nice t-shirt that I bought a year ago, some skinny jeans that have been stretched because I wore them yesterday, and red shoes that need a good clean. I showered today, I did my hair, I changed outfit twice and yet, he's still late.

I always seem to be early for everything. I was born early, I was never late for school, and I'm always early for work. I just always make sure I'm organised to the point where I spent 60% of my life waiting. I'm kind of used to waiting. So I don't know why I'm shocked that I'm here waiting again, he's always late.

I reminisce back to when I was 15. I had left my English Junior Cert exam early, so I could wait at the bus stop to see my dad for the first time in a year. I remember the clouds above were grey, about to burst. The clouds were basically mimicking me. If they waited any longer, they would burst and cry, therefore bringing anybody who witnessed its mood down. But I still waited. One hour later, I'm still waiting. Another two hours, I'm still waiting. Fifteen minutes later, my phone vibrates. "Sorry, I can't make it, I'll make it up to you son", I read as the first drop of rain hits my cheek. Or was it a tear? I can't tell the difference, as the rain was cascading down hitting my face just as quickly as my tears were.

Do you want to know the craziest thing? I still waited. I didn't move from my seat. My clothes were drenched. I probably ruined my exam because I left early, my phone had died and all I could do was hope. Hope for a person to get off one of these buses with a smile that was contagious. But not one person even looked at me.

Ever since that dreaded day, I always feel the same way. Every time I'm waiting for somebody or something, I'm hoping for someone to smile at me. I feel eyes on me, but it's not from the people passing by. It's from my conscience asking, "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

It's been ten minutes waiting by the pier and so many thought are going through my head. 'If I leave, will I meet him on the way?', 'If I jumped into the water, will he ever arrive?', and 'How will I greet him when he gets here?'. I feel my conscience frowning at me, telling me to give up hope, to walk home. But I can't help it. I am destined for disappointment and agony.

Fifteen minutes, and still nothing. No sign of him at all. I keep looking around in every direction to see if he's here yet. To see if I can see him in the distance or in the horizon or if he's coming down with the rain to bring me misery. But he's not like that. He brings happiness and joy, he is the reason I get out of bed in the morning.

He's always late. I've been in this situation before. Countless times even. I'm expecting happiness, anxiety breaking laughter and some physical touch which puts me at ease. However, I'm prepared for disappointment, for my anxiety to spring into overdrive and for my need of a hug to despair like my broken heart.

My heart has shattered, and I can pick up all the pieces, but I need someone to put them back together. I'm hoping he can be the one. I'm not expecting perfection, because if you're dealing with a shattered heart, you're bound to get cut. What I am expecting is flaws. But I enjoy that, I adore the imperfections in people. Like when he doesn't know how to comfort me, or the stutters he makes when he's trying to give me a compliment. My favourite though, is how he's always late. It keeps the butterflies in my stomach active for that little while longer, and when he finally arrives, they take flight with me as I greet him with a warm embrace.

I hear the sound of a foot crunching down on dirt and sand. I look up and see this tall human coming towards me. He is so tall, but he doesn't look down on me. We might not be the same height, but we're on the same level. As he comes closer, I stand up and notice his smile. Oh God his smile. BAM! Instantly contagious. I give my conscience the good auld 'I told you so', as I keep staring at his smile. In the space of three seconds, I am thinking three thousand things. His smile shows off his upper teeth, but never his lower, that's for when we're on a deeper level. His eyes light up through his glasses magnify and melt me.

I run over to him, as he strolls over to me. I look up into his eyes giving my neck a creak. I quickly wrap my arms around his torso, while he wraps his arms around my head. He kisses my hair that gives me shivers through my spine. We look at each other and it's happening. As we inch closer and closer, I feel my heart being mended into place. As I feel the tips of his lips touch the tip of mine. My mind goes blank. I am right in this moment. The kiss is just a peck but that half a second touch means the world to me. I am happy. My anxiety is just a memory, and I am ecstatic.

He hugs my head again. And says something which totally goes against everything I believe in. Gavin says, with a sincere apology, "I'm sorry I'm late", and I feel total ecstasy.