a run-in, part II
a small part of a bigger story
“A shot before you leave.”
“Let’s just do one now.”
“No. Pay first, then come back.”
We pinky promise, and he motions to zip his lips.
A ritual. I pay, the hostess gives me a look. I ignore it.
A ritual. He pours, he makes eye contact, he winks.
A ritual. The shot burns. I look away.
A ritual. Everyone is staring.
I run into a new friend as I leave. He holds the door open for me and walks with me outside.
“Come to the party. It’ll be fun.” He kisses me on both cheeks.
A ritual. Only the figure inside is still staring.
-
I’m sitting with my new friend in his kitchen one Saturday evening.
I’ve never seen blue tiles for a kitchen wall before.
“I have to tell you something.”
“I already know, Emily. Everyone already knows.”
“It wasn’t. I wasn’t. I don’t know.”
“So when we talked about the people we used to love, he was one of them?”
I never wanted this in the first place, I want to tell him. But I can’t find the words.
“It was a long time ago.”
He is silent, and he has his answer.
-
“It’s like you’re led very carefully down this path, and then all of the sudden, it ends.
And you have no say in which way you’re going.
You have no say in starting, and you have no say in it ending.”
-
My phone goes off in the heat of the summer.
“When are you back from holiday?”
“Monday.”
“Let’s find a time to meet.”
I eat dinner alone. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I hit send on What Isn’t Ours.
-
“Who ended it first?” My aunt asks me one night.
I think she expects me to say him, but I wish it was that easy of an answer.
“I think I did.”
But his eyes never let it be over, did you tell her that too?
-
“It’s not about him. It’s not about wanting to be with him, or wanting to be with anyone else for that matter. It’s about the loss of control.”
“You think you’re the main character, but you realize that other people are writing the script. Other people are holding the cards. And you lay in bed and you don’t recognize yourself anymore.”
-
“You all play fucking dirty, and you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Parties, pointer fingers, and long, camel coats are made for dramatic exits.
My new friend chases after me.
“You only told me a small part of a much bigger story. I thought she would leave earlier.”
He is frantic.
I had a feeling before this party. My best friend tells me she had the same one, too.
-
Leaned up against the same brick wall, I stare at the same night sky.
Cigarettes. A lighter. 4 lipsticks. I rummage through my purse.
If I was to pray, what would I pray for?
Would anyone listen?
I’m sorry, I want to say instead. To who, I don’t exactly know.
The door opens beside me. A woman in a plaid coat walks out.
She looks down and wraps her coat around her body tighter.
And for a split second, we look at each other.
And for a split second, I am thankful that it is over.