Now I Know What You MeantA Story by PaigeTurnerTrue scene in reflection. A small moment as part of a bigger story. Now, I know what you meant. The
night I tapped on your car window in the rain, and you opened the door. I sat
across from you. Your arm--a wall--from your body to your steering wheel, dividing
the car in two. Shutting me out. “You could say a
lot right now. And I would deserve every bit of it. I’ve handled things really
badly.” “Yes, you have”
and yet there I was in your car, staying on my side, so clearly marked off. Your wall
shifts, and you turn on the heater, seeing me shiver. From the rain, from the
cold, from seeing you, from the words, from the night and conversation that
this was going to be. “I should have
made time. I made a mistake. And now it’s too late.” “I’m
sitting right here.” I have been
sitting….right here. The whole time. Don’t
you get it. It’s never too late. I
could have kissed you then. Wanting to embrace you. Wanting you to know that I
am something you can trust. Every inch of my body wanting you. Every inch of my
heart loving you. Not the kind of
love you fall into. Not accidental love. Not the kind of love you discover
slowly over time. Not even the kind of love reserved for lovers. Rather, the
kind of love without a timeframe. The kind that you just choose. The kind where
you decide, “I will be there for this person no matter what happens. I will put
them before myself. Because that is what I choose to do.” The kind of love
that moved me to want your best, even if that means I am not a part of it. “I made a
mistake. It’s too late.” Now I know what
you meant. I didn’t then. It was too late. “What am I
missing?” And then came
the lie. “You are not
missing anything. It’s just…the timing.” Timing. Your wall back up. “Is there
someone else?” “No. It’s not
just you. It’s just not a good time for a relationship for me. There’s no one
else.” The lie. Later you will
tell me that you were looking for a time to tell me. This was the time. And a
thousand before it. I held the
notebook, wishing I was holding your hand. The urge, the desire to reach out
and comfort you. Wasn’t I supposed to be
the one hurting. But you are too. I feel it. You still are. Too proud to admit it. When
will you let down your walls. I put the notebook in your hand. “Chances are that I will regret giving this to you, so I will do it quickly.” “What is this?” I let go of the
notebook. I don’t answer. “You were
supposed to get it under different circumstances. But I shouldn’t have it
anymore. And it didn’t feel right throwing it away when it was written for you.
So read it. Or throw it away. It’s yours now.” “I am not going
to throw it away.” “Goodnight.” With a hug. I
held you tight for just a second. And
then I let you go. © 2015 PaigeTurnerAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on November 13, 2015 Last Updated on November 13, 2015 AuthorPaigeTurnerAboutSomewhere along the way I discovered my pen knew my mind better than my mouth did. more.. |