Unforgivable

Silence.

Terrible, agonizing, panic-inducing silence.

I wasn’t used to silence like this.

Ever since I’d met him, my life had been filled with sound.

Wonderful, beautiful sound.

It wasn’t fair that it had to be like this now.

My head lifted, ever-so-slightly, so I could look at him again. The second my eyes saw him, a whirlwind of emotions spiraled violently inside me; anger, fear, tenderness, pain and, above all, bittersweet love.

I immediately returned my gaze to the floor, where I had been staring for the past… well, a rather long time.

How long had we been here for, not speaking?

It had felt like an eternity already.

I shook my head with a soft growl. The way I felt about him… well, I wasn’t quite sure anymore.

Once, there was a time when we would lay beside each other, exchanging tender caresses and loving looks. When we would take walks outside, the wonderful November breezes cold on our faces. When we would sit at the table at his favorite restaurant, talking and laughing and living. There was once a time when I would give anything to just be in his arms.

I didn’t know why it had to be different now.

I couldn’t help myself. For what felt like the millionth time, I lifted my head again to stare at him. He sat across the room from me, sitting on a small, hand-carved wooden chair. He was bent over, his elbows resting on his knees, his startling blue eyes turned away from her. His hair was spiky black and very messy- seemed like he hadn’t brushed it today, which was rather unlike him. His shirt was gray and barely visible under his black coat. His pants were pale blue, although I could barely tell from how old and worn they were. He probably hadn’t had much time to change out of his pajamas before he received the call.

My call.

I wanted to talk to him.

I wanted to work things out.

But I hadn’t yet found the guts to speak.

I sighed, and he looked up. Our eyes met, and in his, I saw something I hoped I would never have to see again. I saw pain. Pain so intense, so deep, it took me a moment to wrench my eyes away. They were already beginning to brim with tears, and I knew that if I began to cry now, there would be no way to stop.

How much longer would we be here?

How long would we sit in silence, unable to utter a word to each other?

I hoped he would speak first. I didn’t have the strength to, not like he did. He was brave. He was strong… he was the only one for me.

Or at least, he used to be.

I buried my face in my hands, salty water smearing on my palms and seeping into my mouth. I let out a short, choked sob. I was reluctant, but eventually, I decided to think about… the thing.

The event.

The cause of our separation.

The memory returned in full HD quality, and almost immediately, rage began to spin inside me. A garbled moan escaped my throat, my hands clenched into fists. My nails dug into my palms, stabbing so deep they drew blood. The pain was nothing compared to what he had done.

He hadn’t meant to do it.

I knew he didn’t.

And yet, the action was unforgivable.

I’d never felt so unsure of anything… and even when I had, he was there to help me get through it. He could help me get through anything.

A dark brown coil of hair strayed from the ponytail I’d had it tied up in at the back of my head, and so I lifted a hand to brush it back, tucking it behind my ear. My head tipped downwards ever-so-slightly, and the coil fell back down. I felt no inclination to laugh, but instead, a fierce irritation began to build inside of me, feeding off the ever-present pain.

I didn’t know what to do.

I tried to gulp back my fear and feelings, but they remained where they were. I began to hear voices at the back of my head- a memory, bringing itself into focus. I tried to push it back. I tried and I failed. Before long, it was back in my mind, reminding me it was there… whether I liked it or not.

Alan was kneeling beside a plant bed, small scrapings of dirt all over his cheeks and knees.

No.

I remembered this.

“Alright, alright, enough.” I had laughed, kneeling beside him. “What is it? No cryptic answers this time.” I added, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. Alan had smiled at me before turning around to grab something. From behind him, he produced a small cloth bag.

“What on earth?” I had wondered aloud, “What exactly did you get me?”

He had put the bag down and reached out to grab one of my hands. Warmth blossomed inside me. I didn’t mind that his hands were dirty. Anytime I was near him, I felt a deep sense of comfort; of belonging.

“Open it.” He had said, gesturing to the bag, a smile splitting his face. He released my hand so I could open the top of the bag and see what was inside. When I saw it, my breath hitched, and I looked up to stare into his eyes.

“You didn’t.” I whispered.

“I did.” He said back, reaching his hands inside and pulling it out.

In his hands, there was a pot-sized clump of dirt… with a flower sticking out of it.

The flower was the color of midnight, beautifully purple with strands of blue crawling from the inside and reaching outwards to the tips of each petal. The stamens were yellow, like stars, which gave it the effect of looking exactly like the night sky.

“I know you love them,” He said to me, putting the dirt in a hole that he seemed to have dug before I’d got there, “And I know your birthday is soon. This isn’t your gift, but I thought we could celebrate how soon it is… Do you like it?”

I was completely speechless. After what seemed to be an eternity, I found my voice again. “Alan,” I said, overcome. I reached out to cup his cheek with one hand. “First of all, I love you. Second of all, This IS your gift, and I will not allow you to buy me anything else. You’ve done so much already. No,” I said sternly, putting a finger to his lips as he tried to protest, “You will NOT get me anything. Nothing, you hear? I love this flower. It’s all I need.” I brushed the nearest petal and was pleased to feel that it was soft as silk.

Alan laughed, and I leaned into his shoulder. Then he turned to me and said, probably for the millionth time,

“I love you.”

When the memory ended, I found there were tears on my cheeks. I brushed them off, part of my guilt washing away and making my soul feel lighter. More memories filled my brain, but apart from that, the silence continued.

…But I rather thought it had lasted quite long enough.

I stood, straightening the bottom of my shirt and staring at him, and he stared back with the peacock-blue pools that were his eyes.

It was time to fix this.