He said, “I can’t do this anymore.”
But she wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
He said, “It’s just not there for me.”
And it started to sink in, because he wouldn’t look her in the eye.
And she said, “But what about the roses?
You sent them yesterday.”
You idiot, she thought.
“How will I explain them to everyone now?” was what she said.
“I never thought about that,” he mumbled.
And she thought, then what’ve you been doing all this time?
How could everything be meaningless to you?
But she didn’t say that, because she didn’t want to hurt him
and it was hurting him to hurt her;
she wouldn’t make it worse.
That wouldn’t be loving him
and she didn’t know how to not love him yet.
So she didn’t say that.
And she didn’t cry.
Except her voice got shaky
and her hands.
And for some reason her eyes started to water.
Her heart couldn’t understand
what her mind now saw very clearly:
he was leaving lightly
and he wasn’t coming back.
He said, “At least we didn’t let it get all that far.”
And she wondered what life he’d been living in
to say something so stupid,
and what kind of fool he was
to believe it.
And she couldn’t feel a thing
and she couldn’t understand.
He said, “Well, I think this has gone really well…
about as well as such a thing can go.
But then, I didn’t expect any less from you.”
And she supposed he meant it as a compliment
but it stung.
She wasn’t making it hard on him
because that wouldn’t be loving him
and she couldn’t stop as readily as he.
And then he added, “You’ve never tried to pressure me
I always loved that about you.”
And she thought, oh, now you tell me.
But she didn’t say it.
He hugged her bye
and she didn’t shrink
and she didn’t cling.
He drove away
and as she walked back in the house
she hoped he’d choke.
© 2001 Jennifer Ellen