Torn From My Chest

6:45 PM

By the end of this, three peoples lives will be changed forever. One of those people is me.

One is him.

One is her.

I'm thinking this in the car, in the rain, holding a damp bunch of daisies on my lap and avoiding bumps on the road so my guacamole doesn't spill. And I'm thinking that changed is the wrong word. Another word weasels it's way into my brain as I approach his Mom's house. Destroy. You're about to destroy three peoples lives, it says. One of those people is you.

My hands look too pale on the steering wheel, and I realize I have been squeezing it too hard. As I release, my breath hitches. I can't seriously be doing this. And yet I have to. I gulp, look across the street. The lights are on, and I can see guests in the living room, chatting and laughing. The warm glow of the lights almost calms me, but not quite.

I check my watch. 45 minutes late. Not like me. Although what is like me, now that I'm doing this? Now that I'm telling him. Tonight of all nights. I lean my head on the steering wheel now, allowing the cool air to creep inside the car as the engine shuts off.

My body is moving on its own now, picking up my guacamole, picking up the flowers, opening the door. Maybe I'm numb from the cold, the nerves, who knows. But at least I'm moving. I'll admit, I hate not to be in control, not to be in a predictable situation. How unpredictable is this going to get? The thought makes me nauseous.

As I approach the walkway, I see him. He is in my view, aglow in the orange window light, smiling. Holding the whole tray of cheese and pickles. I can't feel the rain anymore. The sound of the endless droplets becomes fuzz, white noise, nothingness, as I realize the weight of the evening ahead.

× × ×

"Mind if we take a detour?" He asked as we strolled along a familiar street. I had nodded, elated to spend any extra time with him. For the past eight months, we were barely ever alone. He smiled and my heart jumped, but I, of course, suppressed it.

At this point in time, my brain was telling me it was just a crush. It's a well-known fact that boys and girls statistically develop crushes on one another at some point during their friendship. This was all in the spirit of denial, of course, that I had had this 'crush' since I was 14.

When we had stopped in front of the jewellery store, diamonds flashing light into my eyes, I had started wondering when his parents anniversary was. I was positive it was March. She hadn't crossed my mind. Of course she hadn't. She was my friend first, and yet, I hardly gave her a thought over the past eight months. It was a protection, as thoughts lead to jealousy, and jealousy perpetuated this crazy 'crush' I'd been developing. 

"What do you think?" He had asked. My eyes adjusted as I followed his pointed finger behind the glass. A ring, a diamond ring. Sparkling silver band. A million points of light branching off of the stone. I gulped, still lagging behind the conversation we were meant to be having. "I mean, you think she'll like it?" He asked, and I tore my eyes away from the ring, trailing my gaze back to his face. Hopeful, nervous smile. My mouth hung open, then closed. Opened, closed. I must have looked like a confused fish. "For what sort of occasion?" I managed to spit out, my throat dry and heart beating faster than it had in years. He had rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

"An engagement sort of occasion?" He responded in a mocking tone. He has a tendency to get snarky when joking around. I used to hate it. I don't any more. After he had said those words, beads of black and green began to cloud my vision. "Whoa, hey." I heard him say distantly, his hands holding onto my arm. So, yes, I was fainting. "I know it sounds crazy, but I am crazy about her. It's not like this changes us, right? I mean just cause I'm married it doesn't mean you're any less important..."