53
Ryan
How long has it been since I held someone’s hand? How long has it been since I stopped in the middle of the street to wrap a woman up in my arms and kiss her as if my life, my future, and my whole world depended on it?
How long has it been since I last felt so alive?
I look down at our hands, intertwined together, and then I look up at her: she’s pretending to be calm, to make me and herself believe that this gesture doesn’t mean anything. That it doesn’t mean that we’re both completely and utterly fucked.
But deep down, that’s how Christine is: she doesn’t use huge exclamation marks, or asterisks, or commas. She’s a full-stop kind of woman, and that’s exactly what makes me lose my mind over her.
“Ryan?”
A woman’s voice from behind us makes me jump and I instinctively drop Christine’s hand, suddenly ashamed of the contact between us.
That’s how, in an instant, a gesture that means nothing suddenly means everything.
With the same instinct that made me take her hand, inviting her to dive into this madness with me, I let it drop now, silently telling her that it’s over. That we’re stopping here, before we’ve even begun, as if someone had snapped our legs to stop us from moving forward.
I feel Christine’s eyes on me. I feel her confusion, and I know that I’ve hurt her more than she or I ever believed I could.
“Lauren.”
Even saying her name sends me back to the past – those years that I wish had never happened, but still weigh me down. They suffocate my soul, prevent me from letting in any of the light that has just started to make its way back into my life.
Christine says nothing. I say nothing.
There’s nothing to say, to explain.
There’s nothing but the past, coming back to claim what belongs to it.
“How are you?” she asks, smiling awkwardly.
She has the balls to smile. At me.
“I see you’re…well,” she adds, glancing quickly at Christine, standing silently next to me, but ready to jump ship and leave me to my demons.
“I have to get back to work,” she says, as I close my eyes, trying to stay standing after the blow she’s inflicted on me. Or maybe I’ve inflicted it onto myself.
I don’t turn around to watch her leave, to see her red hair blown by the wind. I don’t turn to see just how much I’ve hurt her.
I stay there, frozen in place. I’m overwhelmed by all the hours and day I spent longing for Lauren – and all of those I’ll never have with Christine.
“What do you want, Lauren?”
“Ryan…”
I turn to leave, but she grabs my arm.
“Don’t touch me,” I say, shrugging her off and looking her hard in the eyes. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
“Ryan…please.”
“Just tell me why, for fuck’s sake. Why?”
“That won’t help anything now.”
“You’re right, it won’t. I… I don’t want to know anything. You’re…nothing,” I tell her, turning and storming away from her.
