Keep My Words

I remember the day that I ended it.

Like every year, I had gone to Maine for the time surrounding July 4th. When I returned, he made no attempt to see me. After a few days, I texted him. My message claimed that I was going to be in his neighborhood Friday afternoon and would love to stop by and say hello. This was a lie. I couldn’t bring myself to say I needed to “talk” to him.

That Friday the weather was hot, and I walked slowly to his apartment. My iPod was playing “April” off of the new P.J. Harvey and John Parish album. Quinn and I were texting each other. I asked her if I was doing the right thing. She, along with most of my close friends, had been listening to my insecurities about the relationship for too long. “Yes,” she replied, “It’s time to revive Summer Ashleigh! There are plenty of other guys out there to screw our lives up.”

So I kept walking. My sunglasses masked the fact that I was crying. At one point, a man leaned out his car window when I was crossing the street. “Great dress. You look beautiful,” he assured me. It was nice to hear. It’s always nice to hear.

I smiled and said thank you, and I kept walking. This had been a long time coming, and I knew that. To this day I can’t understand why I held on for so long to someone that didn’t seem to want to be with me.

My trek was over. I knocked on his door.

“Hey!” he greeted me happily.

“Hi. I brought this stuff for you.” My voice cracked as I handed him a bag of random things he had left at my apartment. He could tell that something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just, I need to use your restroom,” I replied. Once safely inside the lavatory, I tried to compose myself.

“Um, you’re worrying me,” he called from the other room.

When I emerged, I took a seat on his sofa. He gave me a beer and sat on the chair across from me.

I took a deep breath. “I can’t… do this anymore,” I said as I gestured between us.  I could barely look at him, so I stared at the wall and poured my heart out.

I’m not sure how long I spoke.  I remember saying that I considered simply never calling him and letting the whole thing die, but I thought what we had deserved some sort of ending. Also, I knew it was inevitable that we would run into each other, and I wanted to avoid what I now know was unavoidable awkwardness. I told him he didn’t need to say anything, and honestly I didn’t expect much.

“No, I feel like I should say something,” he started. “I guess I have been a little… reckless,” he said. He seemed unaffected and loveless on every level.

reckless – (adjective) utterly unconcerned about the consequences of some action; without caution; careless

“Look you don’t owe me an explanation,” I reminded him.  There was a moment of silence.

“So,” he began, and for a moment I thought he might say something of significance, words that might give worth to the previous eight months of confusion. A statement to remind me he cared. Anything genuine to make me feel a little less stupid.

“I guess you want your keys back,” he finished.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 29th, 2010 at 6:18 pm and is filed under Words. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.