i was sitting on my bed. attempting to write on that little, old, green notebook. i was listening to fiona apple. i have a weak spot for "i know". i was tapping my pen on the pages while chewing on my nails. thinking of her. taking long breaks because i couldn't think of anything to write. it seems as if all i had to write about her had already been written so there was nothing else to say. i've never been much of a writer. not from lack of trying though. i laid down frustrated thinking this feeling will never pass and i can't even form a proper sentence of how i feel. the song was over and another lovely fiona apple song was playing and before i could recognize it i heard a knock on my door. i sat down immediately thinking i heard wrong and waited for another knock. *knock knock* who is it? i said. "it's me" i recognized that voice even lost in crowd of millions of people. "hold on" i said. and i tried to arrange the mess i always have in my room. half ass doing my bed. sprayed some perfume on me, cleaned my glasses. it was the most tiring and fastest minute of my life. my heart was beating rapidly. i went to open the door but not before taking a long deep breath. i opened the door and saw her beautiful face on my door. "hi." she said, again with that smile. we always hugged when we said hi. and i always liked to take deep breaths of her. i loved feeling the pressure of her fingers on my back. and the way her body felt against mine. to me, those were moments of pure bliss. because it was as much as we were ever gonna have. i always, but never meant to, ran my hand from her back all the way down to her waist. i wish i could see her face when she hugs me. i wonder if i give good hugs. she does. i always liked her hugs better than kissing. her kisses sometimes felt like a need for attention. hugs were much more genuine. this was her first time in my room. she had seen my room through pictures, never in real life. i was so glad i had already taken her pictures down. we move to sit down on my bed. she sits first. and i stand for a second. she says "sit down, i don't bite." and in my head i kinda wish she did. i sit next to her but not too close. she scoots over closer to me. being coherent and functioning as an adult are no longer options for me. i could smell her everywhere. we talk about our day and about last week and the week and month before. i can't help but look at my hands and feet the whole time we were talking with the exception of a few glances at her. i murmur for the most part. i can feel her looking at me, staring, as i speak eventhough i don't say much. her feet, again, are bare. she leaves her black shoes on the floor and puts her feet up in my bed. i gulp. she drives me insane. she plays with her hair and rearranges her glasses while i sit quietly. my hand is so close to her feet, i fight and urge to tickle it. "do you want anything to drink?" i say, i'm such a bad host. "what do you have?" "i have milk" and before i can continue she interrupts me "i'm lactose intolerant." i laugh. " i have orange juice, water, vodka and jack daniels. oh and i have coke." "can you prepare jack and coke?" "i can try." i go over to the kitchen and she follows shortly. she looks around with curiosity. i make her drink and make one for myself, you know, for courage. we head back to my room and i change the music, fiona apple is too depressing. i know what i can play that she likes but that too, is depressing so i play the playlist that's been playing for about three weeks non stop with the exception of today. we have little sips of our drinks in my mom's fancy cups. she sits extremely close to me. so close i can smell her jack and coke breath mixed her orbits gum. our arms legs are touching. i have this feeling where i think i'm gonna start to sweat. it gets really hot, really fast and i blush. she sits her hand on the bed and touches mine but immediately moves it. i had hoped it was on purpose.
her: so how have you been?
me: i'm good thank you. how are you?
her: why do you always say thank you?
me: it's proper manners.
her: it seems like you're not expecting me to ask.
me: i always say thank you. it's habit. i was taught to say thank you.
her: yeah well me too. do you love me?
my world collapses on me. i feel like rubble on 9/11. i laugh a little to make give myself sometime as to what it is i'm gonna say. umm..okay. why are you asking me that?
her: it's a simple question.
me: actually no, it's not a simple quesion. it's...no, not at all a simple question.
her: it's a yes or no answer. so are you?
me: are you asking me if i love or if i'm in love with you?
she gives a little laugh. "you know what i mean, don't play dumb."
me: i don't actually.
her: are you in love with me still?
me: no. (but i lied.)
her face seems a little sad and disappointed at my answer and my heart breaks along with my voice. "why are you asking?" i ask.
her: just curious.
she changes the subject to work and how she's getting sick of it. i tell her i'm sick of mine too. she takes a sip her drink and again her hand sits on mine. except this time she doesn't move it. i wonder if the answer to her question were different, would the following had happened...
to be continued.
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