When We Were Young

Ignorance

We didn't talk much of it, at least she didn't. Slowly I started to pack up my things.

Nothing too obvious at first, but my winter clothes, some personal items that I wasn't using. I kept the suitcases in the spare room, out of the way and out of sight.

I tried to talk to her about where she would want to live. I'd show her flats and even small houses that my father thought we'd like. She would smile and say which ones she liked but there was no excitement. I could have been showing her coffins. She had no interest.

It was Saturday afternoon, exactly four weeks before I was supposed to go and I was sitting on the sofa while she was getting dinner ready. I was looking at flights. I hadn't even bought my ticket yet and my father had asked me for the hundredth time when we were coming.

Skylar moved about the kitchen. Things seemed fine. Nothing was different. She acted the same. Until the topic of me leaving came up. Then Skylar would do what she does best, distance herself. I was trying to stop that from happening but it was getting harder and harder.

"When do you want to leave?" I asked.

She looked up and shrugged. "I didn't know we had plans tonight."

I pushed my computer aside and stood up. Skylar followed me with her eyes.

"When are you going to start packing?"

I could see it in her eyes—the building of the wall. She looked down at the vegetables she was cutting up.

"Uh, well I haven't really thought..." she stuttered and shook her head.

"Are you going to rent the place out? Are you going to see your brother before you leave?" I started rattling off questions and the tension in her shoulders tightened. She held the knife tighter, the blade louder and louder as it hit the cutting board. "Do you want to live in a flat? Do you want a house? I would commute from the city so you can live in London."

"Stop it."

"I could hire someone to pack this place up."

"Stop."

I kept going. "Annabelle's friend can rent it out. You don't have to sell anything. You could rent it furnished."

"Stop it!" She finally screamed, and slammed her hand down on the cutting board. Her hand caught the tip of the blade and she yelped. "Fuck," she mumbled and turned on the water to run her hand underneath.

I circled the counter and took her hand in mine. "Just a scratch." Her arm was rigid in my grip and she wouldn't look at me. I wiped the blood away and dried the cut with a paper towel. "Just say it," I whispered. Her eyes floated up to mine, her hair half covered her face. "Just have the decency after five years together, just tell me that you're not coming with me." My voice was low. I turned her and forced her to look at me. "Please, Skylar. Just say it. Don't make me believe..."

"I can't." She blurted out. Her stare was unwavering, her eyes glistened. "Not right away. After a little while. Maybe. But not in a few weeks. It's not you." I staggered. She licked her bottom lip and sighed.

"Tell me why?" I asked, tightening my grip on her shoulders.

"Why?" She shook her head and avoided my eyes. "I can't."

"You can't, or you won't?"

"I can't because I don't know why," she shouted. I dropped my hands from her shoulders and walked away. "I don't know why Albert, there's just something. I'm not ready to leave. I'm not ready..."

I held my hand up. "Five years and you're not ready to move forward with me. You don't think I'm ready, is that it?"

Her eyes widened.

"Don't think I haven't noticed. All that shit you've been saying, when I was your age, or you're too young to remember. The other night, teasing that I wasn't even born when you started high school. You're making a joke of me to make yourself feel better. But you're making a joke of yourself. Don't think our friends don't see it. You're embarrassing yourself."

"I didn't mean..." said Skylar but I cut her off.

"I know exactly what you mean. You're not ready to trust that I'll take care of you or that I love you enough."

She followed me as I paced around the living room, my hands folded behind my neck. "That's not it at all. I know you love me. You take care of me."

"Then what?" I screamed and turned. She was right behind me, her hand reaching out to me but she recoiled. "What?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "Give me time."

"Time?" I bit my lip. "Sure. I'll give you time. You can have all the time you want. And what should I do? Am I'm supposed to just wait for you? Wait for you to get over whatever you're going through, not tell me what it is, and then just hope you'll show up one day?"

Skylar's mouth had fallen open. She just kept shaking her head. "How long should I wait? A week, a month? Maybe a year, or five?"

"I don't...please. Just..." she pleaded.

I scoffed and headed down the hallway. I collapsed on my stomach, burying my face in my pillow. She didn't follow me right away. I stared at the picture on her bedside table. It was a black and white photo of me and I was smiling, laughing really. In my eyes, I could see how happy I was. It was clear on my face.

It had been a long time since I felt like I did in that picture, and I wondered if I would ever feel that way again. Skylar came into the room, and crawled across the bed, lying on my back. She kissed my neck, and kissed my cheek. I leaned up and she kissed my mouth.

"Just love me. Love me now," she cried. I rolled over and she straddled my hips. I slid my hands under her shirt, and pulled her to me, kissing her mouth hard. She groaned when I cupped her ass to pull her toward me. She tugged at my pants and I slipped off her shirt, my mouth smothering her breasts. Skylar undressed me and kicked off her pants, sliding up my body and letting me enter her. Her back arched as she pushed her hips forward, the slickness between us trickling down my legs.

She was breathless, and I couldn't stop thinking, how many more times would we make love? How many times would I be able to kiss her? How many more times would I taste her skin, feel her touch?

I shuddered and she collapsed against me, her breathing in rhythm with mine. She nuzzled next to my neck. My arms were around her waist, keeping her close to me.

We stayed in bed all night, talking, having sex, kissing. She finally fell asleep and I got up to grab my computer. I stared at the screen and finally selected 'confirm', gnawing at my lips. The ticket was purchased, a one-way flight to London.

One passenger.