This is the 2nd of a 2-part post. Here is the first part.
My fingers grazed the keyboard then took the glass of vodka mixed with sweet iced tea sitting right next to it. Phil Collins continues to sing in the background, ranting about living separate lives. I found myself singing along to the awfully sad tune.
…and that you miss me sometimes…
It’s been over two weeks since he broke up with me. Why am I still feeling miserable?
...We can’t go on just holding on to time…
I know why.
It’s because of that damnable kiss he stole from me a few days ago. That one single kiss that lasted for a second had the power to bring back all the feelings I thought I had forgotten.
No. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the way he took my hand and held it. It made me feel as if he didn’t want to let go.
...But for now we’ll go on living separate lives.
***
I was anxious to see him again, but my defenses were up. I didn’t want to let him see that his mere presence still had an effect on me.
He wore that same mischievous, confident smile as he approached me, the smile that was one of the things I love about him. It was the smile that seduced me before.
Not this time, I told myself.
I gave him my usual cordial smile and a curt nod that I usually use when meeting people for the first time. It was a gesture that showed I was guarded. I knew this was what frustrated him. Despite being together, I knew I was making it hard for him to read me, but it was my way of showing I wasn’t weak. It was my way of showing everyone that the walls I built to protect myself were still standing. I guess he just didn’t realize that he had bored a hole through that wall although it was still standing.
We engaged in small talk, asked each other how we were doing. It was a plain and civil conversation while having coffee, but I realized there was hostility in my voice.
He dumped me! It wasn’t easy to get over that fact.
At times I found myself just staring at him, remembering how I used to just study his face while he slept, how I used to pinch his nose teasingly… how his eyes look always sleepy… how I was able to kiss his lips…
Whenever he’d catch me staring, he’d smile that mischievous smile of his. I’d simply raise a single brow.
There were times when it was my turn to catch him staring at me. The reactions we’re the same. He’d smile. I’d raise my brow.
I felt like we were playing a game called Who Will Crack First. It was a very frustrating game to play. There was tension in the atmosphere around us. We talked about trivial things but I know both of us felt we wanted to say other things… so many other things… but neither of us wanted to lose the game.
We finished our coffee. It was time to go. I felt like I wanted to invite him for another cup, but thought I might look too clingy. I didn’t want that. Besides, I had to get some sleep, too.
Since I had to cross the street to get a ride home, he accompanied me across the overpass.
So that was it. Seeing him again only triggered my frustrations over our relationship. It was exasperating. I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to him to say so much more, but I didn’t… neither did he.
The overpass was dark, scary… melancholy… but in the middle of that dark and melancholy path he took my hand and held it as we walked beside each other. My heart skipped a beat.
Then, as if holding my hand wasn’t enough, he stole a kiss. It brought back so much. It didn’t bring flashbacks of our time together. It brought me back something more.
I was reminded that he was a man I loved… and probably still love.
I stared at him blankly. He just smiled that same mischievous smile.
It broke my heart, yet again, to say good bye.
