Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Mr. Orange (The Break-Up)


            He blinked twice and bit down hard.  I focused on the pulsing from his temple to the meeting place of his jaw and his neck directly below his left ear.  We didn’t speak for what seemed like hours in the seconds that froze between us.  I closed my eyes and broke the silence with a whisper of a sigh, and, sensing that I was about to speak he rushed to cut me off, and silenced me with only a gesture of his hand.  The muscles in his hand fluttered almost violently, and easily I could imagine his blood boiling in his veins as the skin specifically between his thumb and index finger convulsed in my line of sight. Silently, I removed my house key from his key ring, and opened the passenger door of his vehicle to walk to my front door as he caught my wrist and refused to let me go, his clutch filled with so many emotions that I winced…not from pain…at least, not physical pain.  I felt the questions in his grasp…and the nearly frantic beat of his heart pulsing through his index finger against my own radial pulse.  I paused and looked in his eyes; this time, he no longer fought to hide the tears forming there.  I kissed his cheek, and he loosened his grip on my arm, which allowed me to exit and walk to my door.  I’d ended it as gracefully as I felt I could…filled with the sad burden of knowing that I’d broken him. 

            He did not wait for me to get to my door safely, though it was past dusk and quickly the day had turned to the deepness of night while we had been sitting in the car, breathing.  He did not wait to watch me search my purse for my keys.  He knew I had a working key already in hand.  He did not wait to watch me turn on the porch light to signal I had gotten in the door.  He did not wait for me to look back at him to smile, and wave goodbye after blowing a kiss. Instead, the car door hadn’t completely clicked shut before he revved his engine and slammed in reverse, spinning tires as he sped out of the parking lot in front of my townhouse.  It was over.  We were over.

           I removed my coat and scarf, and set them to rest on my couch and threw myself next to them, sinking into the smell of suede with my eyes closed, waiting for the slight throbbing of my temples to decide between becoming a tension headache, or easing away into nothingness.   The vibration of my phone in my purse spoke of the text message I knew he was going to hastily type as he sped back towards Savannah.  I definitely did not expect for it to say what it did.

     "I love you."

1 comment:

  1. terrifically tragic... I love how I see what you write more than read it...

    ReplyDelete

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