Categories > Original > Drama > Goodbye My Lover
I felt a rush of fluids throughout my entire body. A buzz followed immediately after. From my head to the tips of my fingers and toes. But my heart had stopped, and I had trouble catching a breath. God dammit, Torrin!
I quickly scanned the living room/kitchenette. It wasn't spotless, but at a time like this I couldn't really worry about neatness. I did, however, have time to glance at myself in the mirror beside the door. Under my eyes, yellow-purple bags had started to form. In spite of their exhaustion, they were this striking shade of auburn instead of their usual dark brown. I'd never noticed that before.
I turned my face to the right and noticed the cut on my cheek. It's redness had dissipated and it was just there, I suppose, trying to heal itself. Why, oh why hadn't I put makeup on?! I touched it and it was still tender, but not as badly as before.
I combed my hair with my finger tips, fluffing it as best I could. I wet my lips a little in an attempt to erase the cracks. My breath wasn't as funky as I'd dreaded, but it wasn't great. Dammit.
"Maeby, it's Jacks. Are you home?"
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!
"Maeby, I know it was you on the other end of that phone. And I know you're home. Open up! I want to get this over with!"
I wanted nothing more to open the door. Even if he was mad as hell at me, I wanted to open the door. But for some reason, I couldn't.
"Maeby, come on! This has been going on forever. TALK TO ME!"
But I didn't. I didn't want him to be out of my life for good. I didn't want us having this awkward whatever I put between us, but I didn't want him gone. And I didn't know what to do.
"Maeby, either we do this or we don't. Either way, I'm gonna be walking. So which is it, sooner or later?"
My heart came back. It beat so loud I heard it in my ears. I jumped back in front of the door and put my hand on the knob. I took a million deep breaths before I turned the lock and deadbolt. Oh, my God.
"Thank you." He said, solemnly. He pushed his way passed me, without even a smirk. He got as far as my couch and turned around. I closed the door and redid the locks. Then, I faced him. For the first time since he walked out on me, ten years ago. I felt a pain in my chest, and my knees almost gave.
His hair was tossed around. It always was, but back then he used to wear a hat all the time. He hadn't shaved for a while because he had a bit of a beard growing around his chin and jaw area. Before he had a goatee, that I loved. I don't know why. I just thought it fit him really, really well. It was still there, but it was crowded by everything else. He still looked like him.
His eyes seemed paler now. I don't know why that made me happy, but it did. Still, I couldn't let him catch me lingering for too long, so I averted my eyes.
He wore a baggy t-shirt and broken-in jeans. His steel-toed boots were covered in crud. He was all about the comfortable, I-don't-give-a-shit look. I ate it up.
Suddenly I remembered I was wearing one of his shirts. I crossed my arms to try and cover up the evidence. He didn't make a face like he noticed. When I didn't speak, he looked at the floor and exhaled.
"What's going on, Maeb?"
"Nothing, why?"
"You've been calling me for a long time, yet you haven't said one word. Something's the matter."
"I haven't called you, Jackson. And I'm fine, thanks."
"Bullshit. Then why do you look like hell? And what's that on your face?"
"I appreciate the compliment. As for my cheek, I do have a cat, you know."
"FUCKING TALK TO ME, MAEBY! SAY WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY AND LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH FOR GOD SAKES! THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT TO SAY TO YOU! YOU DID ALL THE TALKING WHEN YOU WALKED OUT THE DOOR! YOU LEFT! DO NOT SCREAM AT ME! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!"
"JUST SAY IT!"
"No."
"Fine."
He turned around and laid his hand on the back of the sofa. His shoulders sank in some kind of disappointment. Then he spoke again.
"You're still scared."
"What?"
"This is why I walked out. You're scared of bad things happening. You were scared of me leaving, and you're scared of us fighting now. Even though there's nothing between us anymore. You're still afraid of it coming to a head. Yet you've been leaving hints that you still want something to do with us even though you're afraid of it fucking up."
"I am not afraid."
"Then why won't you tell me what you want to tell me?"
"Because there's no point."
"No point in what?"
"Telling...you how I feel."
"Why?"
"Because you're with her, and you're s-so hap-happy."
I couldn't hold it anymore. I broke. I balled my fists and put them up to my forehead and crouched onto the floor. I sobbed like I had last night. I didn't have any restraint. Even though he was standing right in front of me, and I was pouring onto the floor at his feet, I didn't care. It felt so good, in a way.
He turned around and knelt beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. He didn't move to hug me, or comfort or console me in any way. He didn't' speak. He just kept there, looking down at me. I could feel the pressure and my face start to redden. I sucked in a breath.
I know it didn't, really, but it felt like ages had gone between us on that floor. His hand started to rub my shoulder and upper back. Nothing moved passed his lips. Finally I stopped crying. I spoke even though I hadn't had my breathing under control yet.
"Y-you're so happy, Ja-Jackson. She m-makes y-you so ha-happy."
He said nothing. But I could tell he was affected by my words, because his eyebrows knitted and he frowned. He looked away from me as I took a gulp of air and continued.
"I--I am scared. You're right a-about that. I was s-so happy with what we had, but I was a-afraid that yo-you'd leave. I was afraid you'd find something about me you couldn't stand, and you'd leave."
My chest and shoulders finally relaxed. Jackson still wasn't looking at me. Though I think I saw a tear in the corner of his eye.
"I know you loved me. I KNEW you loved me. But I couldn't get rid of this feeling, this idea that was growing in my head that it was all fake, somehow."
He looked at me like I'd slapped him in the face.
"It was never fake. I gave you all I had and you just kept pushing me away. First you'd be fine, and then out of nowhere you'd say things, you'd withdraw. And I blamed myself. I left because I didn't want to hurt you anymore. I didn't see how my being here was doing you any good. And I still can't see it!"
His voice raised at the last sentence. I jumped a little in my skin at the sound of it. His grip tightened on my shoulder a little. Not in a threatening way, but in anger. I cursed myself immediately for my choice of words. Dammit. I always had a knack for talking out of my ass.
He didn't waste a second. As soon as the words left him he got up. He stood there for a second and I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't look up. I couldn't. I just kneeled in front of him with my head down and a hand over my mouth.
"I'm tired of this, Maeby. I can't help you. I never could. I don't want to try anymore. It's over, do you understand?"
But he didn't wait for me to respond. Which is good because I hadn't planned on saying a goddamn thing. He exhaled again and walked to my door. When his back was to me I looked up. Through tear-stained eyes I could see him frozen there. Contemplating my explosion and my jackass confessional. He opened the door and stepped out. Before closing it after himself he looked briefly in my direction and said softly "Goodbye, again."
I quickly scanned the living room/kitchenette. It wasn't spotless, but at a time like this I couldn't really worry about neatness. I did, however, have time to glance at myself in the mirror beside the door. Under my eyes, yellow-purple bags had started to form. In spite of their exhaustion, they were this striking shade of auburn instead of their usual dark brown. I'd never noticed that before.
I turned my face to the right and noticed the cut on my cheek. It's redness had dissipated and it was just there, I suppose, trying to heal itself. Why, oh why hadn't I put makeup on?! I touched it and it was still tender, but not as badly as before.
I combed my hair with my finger tips, fluffing it as best I could. I wet my lips a little in an attempt to erase the cracks. My breath wasn't as funky as I'd dreaded, but it wasn't great. Dammit.
"Maeby, it's Jacks. Are you home?"
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!
"Maeby, I know it was you on the other end of that phone. And I know you're home. Open up! I want to get this over with!"
I wanted nothing more to open the door. Even if he was mad as hell at me, I wanted to open the door. But for some reason, I couldn't.
"Maeby, come on! This has been going on forever. TALK TO ME!"
But I didn't. I didn't want him to be out of my life for good. I didn't want us having this awkward whatever I put between us, but I didn't want him gone. And I didn't know what to do.
"Maeby, either we do this or we don't. Either way, I'm gonna be walking. So which is it, sooner or later?"
My heart came back. It beat so loud I heard it in my ears. I jumped back in front of the door and put my hand on the knob. I took a million deep breaths before I turned the lock and deadbolt. Oh, my God.
"Thank you." He said, solemnly. He pushed his way passed me, without even a smirk. He got as far as my couch and turned around. I closed the door and redid the locks. Then, I faced him. For the first time since he walked out on me, ten years ago. I felt a pain in my chest, and my knees almost gave.
His hair was tossed around. It always was, but back then he used to wear a hat all the time. He hadn't shaved for a while because he had a bit of a beard growing around his chin and jaw area. Before he had a goatee, that I loved. I don't know why. I just thought it fit him really, really well. It was still there, but it was crowded by everything else. He still looked like him.
His eyes seemed paler now. I don't know why that made me happy, but it did. Still, I couldn't let him catch me lingering for too long, so I averted my eyes.
He wore a baggy t-shirt and broken-in jeans. His steel-toed boots were covered in crud. He was all about the comfortable, I-don't-give-a-shit look. I ate it up.
Suddenly I remembered I was wearing one of his shirts. I crossed my arms to try and cover up the evidence. He didn't make a face like he noticed. When I didn't speak, he looked at the floor and exhaled.
"What's going on, Maeb?"
"Nothing, why?"
"You've been calling me for a long time, yet you haven't said one word. Something's the matter."
"I haven't called you, Jackson. And I'm fine, thanks."
"Bullshit. Then why do you look like hell? And what's that on your face?"
"I appreciate the compliment. As for my cheek, I do have a cat, you know."
"FUCKING TALK TO ME, MAEBY! SAY WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY AND LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH FOR GOD SAKES! THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT TO SAY TO YOU! YOU DID ALL THE TALKING WHEN YOU WALKED OUT THE DOOR! YOU LEFT! DO NOT SCREAM AT ME! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!"
"JUST SAY IT!"
"No."
"Fine."
He turned around and laid his hand on the back of the sofa. His shoulders sank in some kind of disappointment. Then he spoke again.
"You're still scared."
"What?"
"This is why I walked out. You're scared of bad things happening. You were scared of me leaving, and you're scared of us fighting now. Even though there's nothing between us anymore. You're still afraid of it coming to a head. Yet you've been leaving hints that you still want something to do with us even though you're afraid of it fucking up."
"I am not afraid."
"Then why won't you tell me what you want to tell me?"
"Because there's no point."
"No point in what?"
"Telling...you how I feel."
"Why?"
"Because you're with her, and you're s-so hap-happy."
I couldn't hold it anymore. I broke. I balled my fists and put them up to my forehead and crouched onto the floor. I sobbed like I had last night. I didn't have any restraint. Even though he was standing right in front of me, and I was pouring onto the floor at his feet, I didn't care. It felt so good, in a way.
He turned around and knelt beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. He didn't move to hug me, or comfort or console me in any way. He didn't' speak. He just kept there, looking down at me. I could feel the pressure and my face start to redden. I sucked in a breath.
I know it didn't, really, but it felt like ages had gone between us on that floor. His hand started to rub my shoulder and upper back. Nothing moved passed his lips. Finally I stopped crying. I spoke even though I hadn't had my breathing under control yet.
"Y-you're so happy, Ja-Jackson. She m-makes y-you so ha-happy."
He said nothing. But I could tell he was affected by my words, because his eyebrows knitted and he frowned. He looked away from me as I took a gulp of air and continued.
"I--I am scared. You're right a-about that. I was s-so happy with what we had, but I was a-afraid that yo-you'd leave. I was afraid you'd find something about me you couldn't stand, and you'd leave."
My chest and shoulders finally relaxed. Jackson still wasn't looking at me. Though I think I saw a tear in the corner of his eye.
"I know you loved me. I KNEW you loved me. But I couldn't get rid of this feeling, this idea that was growing in my head that it was all fake, somehow."
He looked at me like I'd slapped him in the face.
"It was never fake. I gave you all I had and you just kept pushing me away. First you'd be fine, and then out of nowhere you'd say things, you'd withdraw. And I blamed myself. I left because I didn't want to hurt you anymore. I didn't see how my being here was doing you any good. And I still can't see it!"
His voice raised at the last sentence. I jumped a little in my skin at the sound of it. His grip tightened on my shoulder a little. Not in a threatening way, but in anger. I cursed myself immediately for my choice of words. Dammit. I always had a knack for talking out of my ass.
He didn't waste a second. As soon as the words left him he got up. He stood there for a second and I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't look up. I couldn't. I just kneeled in front of him with my head down and a hand over my mouth.
"I'm tired of this, Maeby. I can't help you. I never could. I don't want to try anymore. It's over, do you understand?"
But he didn't wait for me to respond. Which is good because I hadn't planned on saying a goddamn thing. He exhaled again and walked to my door. When his back was to me I looked up. Through tear-stained eyes I could see him frozen there. Contemplating my explosion and my jackass confessional. He opened the door and stepped out. Before closing it after himself he looked briefly in my direction and said softly "Goodbye, again."
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