You’ve said it before, but you never meant it. Never meant it enough to actually go through with it. With confidence in your stance and voice, but fear in your eyes you would state the words, a nervous smile slowly spreads across your face. I say “Okay” and start to go but then you say, “I’m just kidding, though”. It was rare and okay at first but became more constant and annoying. Each time with more confidence, less fear, less nerves. I should’ve seen it coming, I did but ignored. All the things you did were sirens that roared. You wouldn’t do this, you stopped doing that, starting doing things that were strange, a little wack. “He just needs space” I would mumble under my breath, “What the fuck am I still doing here?” is what I should’ve said instead. But here you are, in front of me now, saying the words like some kind of vow. I thought it was a joke, like time and time again before. You say you can’t. You say you’re no good. You say that you could never do it but tried. You’ve been planning for a while but couldn’t; too guilty you would’ve felt. Heart pumping in my ears as your words fade in and out. Is this real? Is this really happening right now? It was.
You leave the room in a rush, leaving like you’re late for a flight. My heart sinks, grows heavy, goes empty in an instant. Barely able to stand you make me. Barely able to to breath, barely able to grab my things. The phone is a blur of dial tones, voicemails, pick-ups, call backs. She knows something’s wrong. Her eyes say it all. She comes closer and tries to comfort. Walking in the other room you look up and stare as I round the corner, I see it out of the corner of my eye. Fear. That’s the look. Nervous. That’s the body language. You say nothing but stare at me, your phone, me. Awkwardly standing by the door, not knowing what to do. I call her and she comes running. Bending down I pet her, more or less stroke her over and over again until I feel too faint to stand there any longer. Poorly able to pick up my things I am and you call her because she’s trying to come with. I open and turn to shut the door quickly. The last thing I see is a glimpse of her nervousness, a glimpse of your uncertainness. And the last thing you see is the look of pure distraught, pure pain, pure…disappointment.