Crushed Blackberry

I'm Sorry

I shut off the engine. An anxious sigh expels from my lungs as I gaze through the windshield speckled with dried water stains. My eyes fix on a particularly large stain as I give myself a mental pep talk.

Come on, you can do this. You didn't drive all this way for nothing. The worst she can do is tell you to leave. It's worth a shot. She's worth a shot. 

I glance at the clock on the dashboard. 6:51 pm. Spring was finally here and the days were getting longer. The sun was still well above the horizon. I idly think about all the sunsets I watched with her, all the long summer days and foggy winter evenings we spent driving and chasing those sunsets. 

It brings me back to the present, why I'm here in the first place. To see my ex-girlfriend. 

Ever since she broke up with me, I shut myself off from her. I put on my strong face, told myself I would forget her, and wasted everyday getting as fucked up as I can at parties, doing anything possible to keep her off my mind. 

It only works for so long, before I realized I was only numbing the pain. I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I grew sick of all the same drunk whores looking to get in bed with me. I knew I had to move on but I couldn't will myself to be with anyone else. None of them were her. It disgusted me just to think about kissing another girl's lips, feeling another girl's body, holding another girl's hand.

That's when I finally admitted to myself that I need to have some sort of closure. And now I'm here, sitting in the parking lot at her apartment, in my car, staring at windshield stains. 

But why would she want to talk to me after what I did? Why would anyone? I was stupid, self-absorbed, and ignored her when all she did was love me. I took advantage of that. I thought she would always come around and give me another chance but I was wrong. She is strong-willed and independent, probably laughing at me for letting the one good thing walk out of my life. 

God dammit, why didn't I stop her? Why didn't I at least try to make things right?! I loved her so damn much, I still do, and I feel like the biggest idiot ever for letting her go the way she did. I had too much pride. That was always my biggest problem. Putting my pride before her.

Just before I mustered enough courage to step out of my car and walk to her front door, I realize that I came here without any plan to execute, nothing to follow. It was sort of a last minute decision, to be honest. I was at my breaking point and I was desperate to see her and talk to her. 

But how would I begin?

Hey, I know I acted like a dick and refused to talk to you for months but do you wanna get something to eat and maybe get back with me?

Who am I kidding, she'll never forgive me. I shouldn't have even come here.

Frustrated, I lurch at my car keys and begin to twist the ignition, when an indigo-gray Honda pulls up next to me two spaces away. I listen as the bass from the interior music thumps and gently vibrates the car. 

I almost forgot about her neighbors' excellent taste in cars. But more importantly, I almost forgot that there is a driver in that car, and he is currently smirking at my fascinated gaze at his vehicular work of art.

He begins to step out of his car and I do the same. Strangely, he leaves the engine on. He leans against the side of his car as I approach it. 

As we talk about the modifications he's made to his car and compare the differences of several Honda models, I briefly forget what I came here to do.

"Sorry I took so long!"

My heart plummets at the sound of the voice. I haven't heard it in months but I recognize it right away. It's impossible to forget. The guy's face lights up with a broad smile as he peers over my shoulder and walks towards the source of the sound.

I slowly turn around, involuntarily holding my breath in anticipation.

The long part of her black skirt whips in the breeze behind her, the short part revealing her smooth, toned legs. A collared maroon tank top is tucked into the skirt and cinched together by a brass colored belt. She is stunningly beautiful, and I can't help but gawk at the heartbreaking realization that she is my ex-girlfriend.

"It's okay. You look gorgeous," he says to her, adding a light peck on the forehead. Suddenly, I don't think his car is that cool anymore.

Her eyes soften at the corners, glowing radiantly as she smiles and looks at him and my stomach twists into impenetrable knots because I know that look. She's in love with him. I'm absolutely sure of it because she used to look at me the exact same way. 

I want to jump back into my car and speed away before she sees me but it's too late. She stops abruptly in her steps. Her smile drops as soon as we meet eyes. Her complexion pales as her wide eyes stare at me. She blinks once, then twice more, as if she's trying to blink me away.

"Christian?" Her voice is lower now, breaking and fading away at the end. "What are you doing here?"

My heart hammers so loud in ears, I could barely hear what she said. 

Where do I even begin?

I'm here because my thoughts are filled with you. I'm here because I can't stand being without you. I'm here because I still love you. And I was hoping you did too. 

Now, standing across from her and this other guy's arm wrapped around her, I wish I wasn't here.

All the thoughts I had in my car five minutes ago are now rushing to escape. I open my mouth to speak but the obstruction in my throat leaves me silent.

"You know him, Ella?" the guy asks.

"Yeah." She nods, her espresso brown eyes still scrutinizing me. 

"I used to," she adds under her breath. I feel as if someone kicked me in the stomach.

"Well, I'm Quentin, it's nice to meet you, but we gotta get going or we we'll miss our dinner reservations," the guy hastily explains, sliding back inside his car. 

Ella follows, her long, wavy hair softly swaying as she turns. Her hair has gotten so long since I last saw her. I wonder silently if there's any other changes that I can't see and if I'll ever get to find out. 

"Bye, Christian," she hesitantly says with a wave before she disappears into the passenger side. I feel the brief yet strong urge to grab her and take her away, far away from this guy, but I can't even remember how to move. 

Feeling a mix of shock and defeat, I stare at the Civic as it launches out of the spot and out the driveway. It may be wishful thinking, but I could've sworn I saw her turn around and look at me through the dark tinted rear window.

It wasn't until the car vanished at the end of the street that the verbal clog in my throat finally cleared. Two words escape, in a whisper so hushed, I could hardly hear them myself. 

"I'm sorry."