Torn pieces of paper laid damp on the ashtray. Neither of us had anything else to say nor wanted to be there anymore, though not so long ago we both did. I wanted for her to be happy, so I did things that did not come naturally to me. Problem was, as soon as I thought she was happy, I stopped trying. Days became weeks and months became years. So many things I promised her, so few I actually delivered.
“Did you think we ever had a future?” She asked me. “Yeah, absolutely” I replied. I had clung to that hope for so long. The hope of having a future with her kept me resolute in my effort to be with her during the hardest of times. But that part I left out of the conversation, I didn’t want to make things worse.
I think I already knew what I wanted to say before the conversation took place, but I couldn’t accept it. I wanted to believe somehow we could still work things out. Now all has been said and done, and I keep telling myself over and over inside my head that letting her go is the biggest loving deed I have ever done to her. I cannot make her happy, and trying to jumpstart our relationship again would only hurt us further, or so I try to convince myself.
She was so beautiful today, I didn’t tell her anything about that either. She knows me like no one else, she’s seen the best and the definitely worst of me. As tears slid mournfully over her cheeks I strengthened my grip on the table to resist the impulse of holding her in my arms and telling her that everything was going to be ok, that I was right there with her and nothing was going to make me go away. Did I grab that table hard.
Torn pieces lay damp in my head, and I hope she finds a way to be happy.