Your eyes scream at me. How do you make your eyes scream? They scream how much you love me and I try to turn away. I try so hard to look the other way. I suddenly become very absorbed in a daffodil. I concentrate on the yellow of the leaves, on the fringe of burnt brown that lies delicately on the petal closest to the wall. It is very still. The whole night is still. Nature seems to be sleeping for moment, or possibly just preparing. The puddles of water that line my grey driveway hardly move, just gently sway a little when a car rolls by. Yet there is something unnerving about the stillness. It is an expectant stillness- it promises an uneasy future. The air lies heavy on my shoulder and my top sticks to pale skin, though it is not hot.
I can't keep ignoring you if you keep looking at me like that.
You are moving closer, closer. Another inch or two and your jeans will touch mine. I cannot move much further away, unless I want to fall off this ledge. A soft whisper of your breath washes over me. It has no smell but the smell of breath- warm, damp, gentle.
I am going to break your heart tonight. I already have broken your heart, too many time sto count. Why do you keep coming back? Why are you always here, late at night when all the others have gone back home? Why can't you understand the word no? Everynight, I carefully pluck away your hope, toss it to the wind. Yet the next time you return, hope blooming in your face.
And you know, I can't refuse you. I couldn't just say "go away". How can I turn away such open love? You look at me and I- I see myself through your eyes. You think I'm perfect. You see something in me that, for all my staring in the mirror, I fail to notice. The way you look at me, I feel like a princess. I am everything to you and I can't just turn that away. So, I tell you "No", but I don't stop flirting. I say "you don't have a chance", but I don't stop waving you over. This is a ridiculous game we play.
You are my drug. I know I should put a stop to this. But I am not strong enough. I am as weak as you, in my own way. Weaker, maybe. Your weakness comes from something pure - love. But mine comes from vanity.
You twirl a lighter in your hands and we sit in silence, watching it. You open your mouth to speak, then close it. I gather up my courage, get up, walk to the steps to my front door, get ready to climb them. Look at you, see the pale white of your knuckles, the flush in your cheeks. Lose my courage. Sit down on the first step.
The unsaid words spark against each other in the air. I am sure that if I look a little harder, I will see little flames from the friction. All I see is a cloudless sky, a sliver of moon.
"I can't stop."
Your voice breaks a little. I swallow hard. Here we go. This is it. This is the last dance.
"I know why you don't- feel the same. I'm not- like those other boys-"
"That isn't true! No, Ross, I-" It isn't true, you are wrong. It isn't about "those other boys". You just don't take my breath away. You don't make my heart stop, my brain explode, don't sweep me off my feet. You don't give me that all consuming, fireworks feeling. You aren't a rainbow or a shooting star. You are a daisy in a field of roses.
"No, it is true. They look at you. Yeah, they do. I can't compete with that. But-"
"Ross, no. You're fine! Seriously, you are. It's just...I can't force this? Do you understand? Can you understand that? Please, it's not you. It's just- it's everything."
A tear slips down your cheek. You put your head back, stare at the cloudless sky, stare at that tiny sliver of moon, like an eye half closed.
In contrast, I put my head down. Nestle it in my knees. I cannot bear to see you cry. I am tearing you. We are sitting here and your heart is breaking. I though hearts only broke in the midst of a storm, with screaming speeches and love letters floating in the wind. I thought hearts only broke when there was a concert soundtrack, when there was a symphony of sound and music.
But no, just silence and a siren far away. I look up at you, hoping to see your eyes dry. But, no, they are full of glassy tears. You are losing me and I feel your pain with you. I try to soak it from you, hoping I can carry it as well. Then, you wipe your eyes. You fiddle with the beads around your neck, little tiny brown beads from some distant island that rich Daddy took you to. Eventually you unlock the clasp and the string swings loose, whipping the air like a snake. You stand up, clear your thraot. You look taller. You press the necklace in your hands and it is such a perfect gesture, so firm but so sweet. I am living in a movie, for a moment.
"I'm gonna take off. And I- I probably won't see you. I shouldn't. So, take care, yeah? And- yeah. yeah, take care of yourself."
Wait, you mean, you won't see me again? You won't call me every five seconds of the day to talk about nothing? Won't listen to me cry when the world feels like it's breaking? Won't buy me ice-cream and lie on the grass while a storm pours, catching rain in our mouths? Won't watch late-night tv with me and make fun of the weird hairstyles?
"Don't walk away." I hear myself say. But I say it too softly, far too softly. You are turning the corner, rustling the leaves of the bush with your hands. A flower falls as your run your hand by it and I swear I hear it hit the ground, the night is so quiet.
I thought you would be the one to lose tonight.
So why do I feel like I did?
