A/N: This is a little short story I wrote about a character I developed in creative writing. I'll be posting other stories I wrote about him, but this is as good a place to start as any. Con-crit/feedback/whatever is greatly appreciated!!!
Sean never would have worded it this way, but he was very sensitive to Pernille’s body language and intonations. He studied her almost constantly whenever he was in her presence. He was that manic with zeal for her. Pernille on the other hand…
It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, Sean tried to reassure himself, as they sat across from each other, silently, eating their Chinese take-out (Sean wasn’t a fan of Chinese food after an incident of food poisoning, but since he was spending his stay in Copenhagen in Pernille’s apartment, he wasn’t in much of a position to complain). She just liked her space -- her wiggle room. She didn’t need to keep her eyes fixed adoringly on Sean, even if he kept his on her. That just wasn’t the way she showed affection. That wasn’t the way she loved.
This didn’t have to be that big of a deal though. He’d only been in Copenhagen a couple days, and he still had a week and a half before had to return to college stateside. He still had time to bridge this rift that had formed between them. There was time enough maybe to even find that there was no rift at all, and that Sean was just letting himself get worked up over nothing. Between the two, he hoped for the latter.
Pernille glanced up at Sean. “What?” she said, and slowed her chewing.
“Nothing.”
“You always stare at me like that.”
Sean swallowed. “Sorry.”
“Why do you do that?”
“I don’t mean to.”
“But you do it all the time.”
Sean squirmed for a moment. “It’s because – because I think you’re beautiful.” He blushed, and hated himself for it.
“Well stop. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Sean blushed harder. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”
“Thank you.”
She resumed eating and Sean tried not to look at her.
Sean decided he would take her out to the art museum the next day – the one whose exhibitions Pernille hinted about subtly enough for Sean to pretend to not understand.
Pernille agreed with a mild shrug. Not a good sign.
+ + +
It was not very romantic. Pernille and Sean strolled along side by side through nearly the whole museum. Sean had reached for her hand twice. The first time she gave his hand a squeeze, and let it drop. The next time she moved her hand out of the way, and sped her stride just enough that it seemed accidental, coincidental even.
They walked back to Pernille’s apartment. It was dusky out, and it had started to snow. Sean glanced down at Pernille’s be-gloved hand, swinging at her side. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Pernille?” he said.
Pernille turned partially toward him, then turned away again. “Sean?”
“Is there – is something wrong?”
“Everything’s perfect,” she said.
“Pernille.”
“What, Sean? Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“You’re acting… I don’t know.”
Pernille halted in her tracks and turned to face Sean, who nearly bumped into her. “How am I acting?”
“Never mind.”
“Say it. How am I acting?”
“You’re acting like I’ve done something wrong,” Sean said, in a burst.
Pernille eyed Sean. She didn’t say anything, and after a moment turned back around and continued walking.
“Have I done something wrong?” he said, keeping pace.
“It’s – it’s just --,” she stopped again and rubbed her forehead. “You’re always leaving. And I’m always just waiting.”
“I’m waiting too,” he said, reaching toward her shoulder, but she stepped away again.
“I know,” she said. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Sean mouthed wordlessly at her for a moment, and then stopped, and sighed.
“I’ve been thinking about tomorrow – about you leaving. Again. It makes me frustrated. I can’t apologize for that.”
“I’m sorry,” Sean said. “I really am. I never want to leave, Pernille.”
Pernille reached for Sean’s hand this time. “I know. I – It’s just hard.”
Sean tried to smile.
“I’ll try to stop thinking about it so much.”
They held hands on the rest of the walk home.
+ + +
Pernille took Sean to the air port the next day. She gave him a peck on the lips after helping him unload his luggage, and waved to him as she sped off.
Sean had a bad feeling in his gut. He tried to ignore it, and managed to do so until the plane landed in New York. He'd spent the flight staring at the back of the seat in front of him, and then reading and re-reading the same paragraph in his book, before he returned to staring at the back of the seat. He managed to ignore the feeling through his connecting flight to Portland, but when the plane skidded onto the runway a thought broke through: ‘I do not want to be here.’
The thought continued to repeat itself as he exited the plane, and made it down the luggage corral, where he met his parents.
“How was the trip?” his mom said, as she hugged him.
“It was great,” he said. He thought ‘I do not want to be here.’
“Here, let me get that,” said his dad, taking hold of the suitcase Sean was about to claim, as it came around to them, on the corral.
“Thanks,” said Sean. Meanwhile, he thought ‘I do not want to be here.’
When they arrived home, Sean still did not want to be there. He sent Pernille an email, noting that she hadn’t already sent him one herself.
A week passed before she responded:
Sean,
im glad your safe at home now.i wish you were here too. its very strange without you here. i know i say this all the time whenever we email. but it’s getting hard to bear. im lonely and im frustrated. maybe i shouldn’t say any of this but i think you feel the same even if you wont say it.
love, Pernille
Sean read the email again. He sighed and realized he did know what to say. He knew what to do. He just didn’t want to say or do it. He thought of Pernille writing the email after work, most likely, and after having walked alone to her apartment, where she sat alone at her kitchen table. He didn’t want to be here, but he was here, and she was there and she didn’t want to be there either while he was here, and he didn’t want to be here either, and he as confused and he didn’t like this.
Sean stared at the cursor blinking at him.
He breathed.
He wrote:
I’m sorry that this is how things are. I think it might be best if we took a break. You shouldn’t be so lonely, it’s not fair, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re waiting for me all the time, and that I’m always leaving. You don’t need to wait.
I love you.
Sean.
He sent it before he could regret it, and then did immediately. He considered writing another email, taking it all back, but he knew he was doing the right thing. Even if it didn’t feel like it.
Pernille responded after a day:
Ok. i love you too.
Sean was doing the right thing – he knew he was doing the right thing. It was the right thing. But Sean still didn’t want to be here.
