My Double Life

|| 18 || Impetuous Desire

But he resists this desire, this impetuous, irresistible desire to run back towards me and hold me in his arms and listen to me whispering ‘sorry’ over and over again until my voice is engraved into his mind. Instead, he turns away, walking swiftly to the end of the block, the finish line of our relationship. Of course, he’ll finish first, because we never really got started, did we? There is no finish line; that’s the beginning of the end.

Josh continues walking, brusquely ignoring my attempts at seizing his attention. His eyes, his viridescent blue-green eyes, are brutally hostile when he glares back at me for a moment. In that moment, he slips, ending his journey to the beginning of the end. The piece of paper causes him to stumble to the ground, hitting it with his shoulder. By this time, I run, because I have not seen him fall, at least I don’t know if it’s him or not. When I do realise, however, I aim to slow down, but the grip of my shoes betray me. I skid, trying to keep balance, but I slide across the slippery hallway and at Josh’s feet. My white shirt decorated with a kitten has a brown tinge from the dirt of the hallway, and my bare legs burn from the burden of wearing shorts. I can feel him examining me, and to make it even more uncomfortable, I study his face, from his high cheekbones and thick lips, to his wondrous eyes and the curvature of his jawline. Everyone gapes at the sight of us, finally feeling superior over the superior. Well, at least one of us used to be superior. Josh finally averts his gaze from me, hardening his glazed eyes in the most intimidating way. The hallway is quiet in a moment’s notice.

In the languid movements and the dead silence, we glance at each other but only to each other’s eyes, where our secrets may lie. Abruptly, he sits up and takes me into his arms, in an embrace that only spells out forgiveness.

Then I realise, I do not want to leave him. I need him and he needs me. Falling apart, I cry, in the most excruciatingly way possible, because he’s going to have to know that I have to leave him.

“I think you’re one of the people I’m going to miss most when I leave,” I say, voice cracking from my inevitable sobbing.

For an instant he is quiet, completely silent. No reaction whatsoever. With a tone of gloom and puzzlement, he finally says, “you’re leaving. Are you fucking joking?”

“No, Josh, I’m not joking. I’m leaving at the end of the year.” I painfully try to smile, although it comes off as crooked and forced. I can’t make him feel better.

“Misty, that’s in two weeks.”

“I know.”

“Fuck it. Come stay with me, don’t leave.” His only way to deal with sorrow is to smother it with anger and curses, while also making rash decisions.

“You know I can’t do that,” I reply, my voice barely audible.

“You can’t leave either.”

“I have to.”

“I thought I would have a shot with a girl who saw the other side of me.”

“I’m not that girl. Deep down inside, I know that you know who that girl really is.” Dianna is that girl. Dianna will always be that girl.

“I don’t care about that girl. She’s my future, you’re my now. You can’t just leave me, and for what anyway?”
“Everything. I need to start over, Josh. Starting over doesn’t mean being with you.”

Tears begin to gather at the end of his chin, dropping onto his grey shirt. “Why now? Why not in a few months? We could’ve been something.”

“Yes,” I whisper, “yes, I know.” Inhaling and exhaling heavily, I continue, “And this probably means nothing now but I love you, Josh. You are that guilty part of me that’ll always be there.”