Now I Know What You Meant

Now I Know What You Meant

A Story by PaigeTurner
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True scene in reflection. A small moment as part of a bigger story.

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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 PaigeTurner


Author's Note

PaigeTurner
Writing as to process. Wondering if I should pursue retelling this story in full.

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Reviews

Wow! I dig it. The thing I like the most about this is the atmosphere, you can almost feel what the characters had to feel. Nice job!

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on November 13, 2015
Last Updated on November 13, 2015

Author

PaigeTurner
PaigeTurner

About
Somewhere along the way I discovered my pen knew my mind better than my mouth did. more..