by Flatman, NJ
Any thought that I had been broken before was gone. The hurt that swelled up inside my body wouldn’t let go. I was being strangled from the inside. Choked on words that, in my mind, said everything we have and everything we are is fake. None of it was real. And it crushed me. I couldn’t breathe and I struggled to keep the tears from my eyes.
My head began to spin as a variety of thoughts whirled through my mind. He didn’t find me attractive. Not the way Colby was. Not the way he was. This was why he didn’t touch me. It wasn’t that he was taking things slow. He didn’t want me. I wasn’t good enough.
I would never be good enough for Spencer. He was prime rib and I was a hamburger. He was a rose and I was a daffodil. People looked at him and instantly wanted him. He could have anyone that he wanted, and yes that included my infinitely picky best friend. I wasn’t good enough to match up to that.
I couldn’t seem to find a way to inhale. Tears began to fill my eyes and a solo one escaped and slid down my cheek. Spencer thought I was less attractive and desirable than Colby. Someone like Avery. As if someone like me was a bad thing. I wanted to shout, but no words would come out.
“Avery,” Colby’s voice caused me to lift my head and look at her.
Our eyes met as I fought back tears. I wanted to avoid looking at Spencer. I was afraid to look at him. Everything inside of me was exposed. If he saw my eyes in that moment, he would see everything I was hiding in my soul. The feelings. The shame.
The pain would be evident. The insecurities visible for him to examine. I didn’t want that. Because it wasn’t until that moment when I’d heard those words that I’d realized how deeply I felt for him. It wasn’t until I realized what he thought of me that I knew how much I loved him. How badly I wanted him to feel the same.
It was as if my world had just come crashing around me. I sat there and watched as my two best friends went at it. She was arguing with him and he was extremely defensive. Was I completely surprised? Yes and no.
I was so surprised that I sat there silently, afraid that this would destroy everything that had been happening. Most of all I was a little surprised that my best friend of over a decade appeared to be sabotaging the single best thing that had ever happened in my life. Yet there I sat, listening and being quiet.
“Ave,” I heard Spencer say my name and there was something in his voice.
A crack. The way he was barely audible. The sound of pain. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him, staring into his eyes.
I was accustomed to looking at him and smiling, but today there would be no smile. I had no happy thoughts. Part of me wanted to yell at him and part of me wanted to cry. The part full of tears and pain is the part that won. And I sat there. Eye to eye with the man I loved and tears streamed down my face. The pain was evident from me and I knew that. I couldn’t help it. He’d never seen me cry or be hurt. He knew he made me happy. He’d never seen a situation where he made me anything but.
Until now.
Another tear rolled down my cheek as I saw a glimmer of wetness in his eyes as well. His face was white. He dark eyes clouded in pain. He just looked at me, neither of us speaking. He seemed afraid to say anything.
I’d never seen that look on him before. I’d seen flashes of hurt at random times, but the look of terror that he currently had was nothing I knew. His face was a reflection of my own heart. Pain. Agony. A desire to step backwards in time and change it all.
He looked as though someone had stabbed him repeatedly and he was gasping for air. His face showed the shattered pieces that I felt deeply inside. Everything that I felt breaking apart inside of me, was sitting there showing in his eyes. I wasn’t sure if he could see the broken pieces of me, or if he felt it too. In that moment my own pain was not important. In that instance I no longer cared about what he had said or done. I no longer wanted to analyze his comment for truth. I wanted to take the look off of his face. I wanted to remove the pain that was so evident. And I did not even know how to do so.
He stumbled for a minute with his words. Our gazes were locked and neither of us could turn away. “What’s wrong?” he said barely above a whisper. I just shook my head. What could I say? You destroyed me? You broke everything that I am. No, I couldn’t say that. I had to make his hurt stop. That was my only goal. He stuttered for a minute before he finally said what was in his mind.
“It….it wasn’t….I didn’t mean….I was just…” he stumbled for what to say and I watched his face change from devastation to panic. “Do…do you want me to leave?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“Someone like Avery?’ It was the first time I’d been so open with him. It would end up that this situation began a lot of firsts. The first time I’d seen him angry, the first time I’d been hurt by him, the first time he’d seen me cry, the first time I’d seen him devastated, and the first time I’d been that open and honest.
As he stumbled for a reply, it would become the first time he’d ever realized that he had the power to hurt me and that would be monumental between us. Because it would be the last time he did so carelessly. In fact, he would spend a lot of time making up for those rare times he managed to hurt me unintentionally. But most of all it was the first time I got my answer. Yes he returned those feelings.
In that moment we stared into each other’s eyes and we saw more than the color. We saw he feelings. I could see his and I know he could see mine. No words were spoken that day saying so, but we loved each other and for the first time we both knew it without any doubts.
Something changed. The pain I could see and hear from him changed my own. I no longer worried about how I felt. I no longer cared about how much I had been hurt. I just wanted to do or say whatever I had to. I needed to see him smile. To take that pain away.
There was a connection between the two of us. As I told him not to go we both felt it.
His words had hurt me, but the one thing I knew was that those words didn’t matter. My pain had created his own and he wanted to take it away. At the same time I needed to take his away. Our need to relieve the other was stronger than any words or other emotions as we stood there.
“are you sure?” he asked, again barely speaking. “I can…”
“No,” I shook my head again. “Don’t leave.”
He nodded and said nothing else. We just continued to stare at each other. Both of us speaking silently what we had yet to say out loud.
We loved each other. We loved each other with a passion and bond that neither of us, and likely very few in general, had ever known. We loved each other in a way that created a need to protect the other. To stop the hurt. To care for the other one. We had a love that was damn near unheard of.
And until that moment, neither of us had even known it.
Chapter 7
The week following my exchange with Colby was vague at best. Work was work. I’d get there and somehow make it through, avoiding individual dealings whenever possible. Luckily the place stayed fairly hectic during my shifts and it left me without much time for chatter.
Everything that I did became habitual. Pouring drinks. Serving tables. Cleaning up. Even stepping out back for a smoke break was emotionless. More often than not, I found that I’d barely even touched the cigarette beyond holding it and letting it smolder.
Other than our planned shopping trip, Colby and I hadn’t really talked. My heart wanted to trust that she was giving me breathing space so that I could heal. My head knew better. She was annoyed and resented me. It’d been noticeable the night we’d went shopping. Her words were little jabs at my own confidence.
I told myself that Colby meant well and was reacting out of hurt. And I avoided her for the most part. It wasn’t hard because she wasn’t actively seeking me out. In fact, no one really was. My phone was virtually soundless. No texts. No calls. Even social media seemed to grasp that I wasn’t worth a damn at that moment.
It wasn’t until I realized how still my world had become that I fully understood how few p
eople actually communicated with me in an average day or week. Questions filled my mind. Had my life always been that vacant? Had I pushed them away? Was Colby right?
Perhaps loving Spencer had consumed me. It was feasible that I’d put so much thought and feeling into him that I’d just let everyone else drift off. In the solitude of that week, I wanted to repair it. I wanted people to be there. To raise me out of the pit of torment that I was floating in and give me a reason to get out of bed besides bills.
On the other hand, the week made me prepared for the trip I was taking with Colby. Not because I had plans to party it up the way she did. There weren’t any thoughts of hitting on cute guys and snorkeling. I just needed away.
Something had to get me out of my apartment, job and state. As far from those daily things as I could get. Because as much as I walked through each and every moment mechanically, there were those times that it was impossible. Those little things that brought back his face, his words, his smile and even his laugh.
The song that played on the alarm clock- he had picked it out. Every time it went off I felt the wound of losing him rip open all over again. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to change it. Same with my ringtone. When I rode the train into downtown I’d remember that day he was standing at the pole, swinging back and forth and singing a love song for me. The crowd hadn’t enjoyed it, but it’d been one of my favorite times with him. Watching television I’d see a movie title that would take me back to those first nights in the apartment, cuddled onto our mattress and watching movies to pass the time. Even my job, I remembered the sound of his voice as we sat at the table during lunch and he told me I should apply because I’d be a better waitress than any of the ones that they had.
Everywhere I went and everything I did- there was something that would creep into my mechanized way of life. Something that would strike a chord in my soul and take me back to a happier day when Spencer was there, in my life and loving me. But it didn’t make me happier. It made the hurt excruciating.
This trip down south and away would hopefully clear my head. Being away from the daily reminders of the man I loved could make it easier to let him go. At least I’d hoped so.
I wanted to get in touch with Colby and tell her I was all set for the trip. She would be pleased to hear it. But she wasn’t heading up my fan club and I didn’t want to remind her that she was really pissed off at me. So I kept it to myself. Hoping that as we ventured out, she would remember that she loved me and we had a great camaraderie.
I’d almost quit crying, save for those special memories that appeared out of nowhere. I’d learned to be and carry on without tears throughout the biggest part of my day. No, I wasn’t whole but it was something. And I was pretty sure it was about all I could expect, potentially for the rest of my life.
The nights were a little harder. Lying in the silence of our apartment, feeling the empty space beside me, I couldn’t hide from the pain. I couldn’t run away from what was real.
I tried not to notice that he never contacted me. I refused to call or text him. If he loved me and wanted me, he would come back. Evidently I wasn’t good enough for him. It was apparent that the tie I’d believed we had was mostly on my end. I was so in tune with him that I’d felt things that didn’t exist.
As I packed my bags the night before left, I cried. Over what I’d lost and what I wasn’t sure I’d ever had. I cried over my fears and doubts. I cried over memories I didn’t want to forget but couldn’t stand to remember. I cried because as I placed my clothes into the bag, I could feel him there watching me and joking about how I packed enough to move and it was just a week’s trip.
I cried because a large part of me wished that I could wake up and not remember anything. As much as what we’d had meant to me, I wanted to forget it. I needed the hurt to go away. So I packed my bags and prayed to a God I didn’t even believe in that somehow and some way I would forget the little things that I’d permanently stamped into my mind so that I’d always remember them.
I prayed that somehow I’d wake up with selective amnesia and forget that Spencer had ever entered my life, let alone loved me the way he had.
Chapter 8
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?” I laughed, certain that he was teasing.
“You deserve better,” his reply made me realize he was serious.
“It was great!”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm Avery,” he turned and looked at me. “But that is a lie.”
“Spence,” I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m not lying.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The hottest guy I’d ever met had just had sex with me and he was apologizing because he thought it wasn’t good. I should have been apologizing because I didn’t deserve him. But I knew that he loved me and that was what mattered.
He stood up, slipping on his shorts before pacing the floor.
“It was awkward and clumsy,” he shot at me. “I acted like a teenage boy the first time he sees a naked girl.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his reference. It had been a little awkward, but I’d expected that. We’d waited a long time. And if he’d felt even half of what I’d felt as it started, then he shouldn’t be surprised by that either.
“You deserved smooth and romantic and sexy,” he kept rambling, ignoring my chuckles from behind him.
“Spencer,” I interrupted his self deprecation. “It was very romantic and extremely sexy. So what if it wasn’t smooth?”
“You deserve perfect,” he answered. “As perfect as you are.”
I shook my head, trying to keep the mysterious tear that popped up from time to time away. He had a way with saying just the right thing. It was kind of like his uncanny ability to know what I needed from him even if he’d never heard from me that day. He just knew. It was part of what made us so special.
“I have spent all this time, months might I add, waiting on you to want to touch me. I’ve wanted you so badly it felt like it would kill me sometimes. Trust me when I say, it was perfect.” I bared my feelings for him.
“Waiting on me to want to touch you?” he seemed shocked. “Avery I’ve wanted to touch you since the day I met you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” It seemed a simple question.
“It’s not that easy,” he shook his head, making his way back to my bed and sitting down beside me. His hand cupped my chin as he leaned down and kissed me. “But I promise you that a day hasn’t gone by that I didn’t want to touch you.”
“Why are you so scared of loving me Spencer?” the words popped out before I could stop them.
“I’m not scared of loving you,” he answered, looking into my eyes.
“Then what are you scared of?”
“Needing you,” he admitted. “I’m scared of needing you.”
“Why? I need you too,” I reached out for him and watched him pull away.
“It’s easy for people to say that,” he spoke softly as he answered my question. “Everyone says that. I need you. I love you. I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never leave you.” He began to speak faster and louder. “Then they do. They leave. They hurt you. They fuck you over.”
“I would never hurt you,” the words came out as sad because it hurt me to hear him say I’d leave. “Never.”
“I think everyone means that when they say it,” he stood back up and began to pace. “I don’t think anyone really lies about it.”
“Okay,” I waited.
“But things change. And they do hurt me. They do leave. They don’t need me anymore and they stop loving me.”
“But I….”
“I know - you won’t. I know you feel that and believe that,” he paused for a minute. “But everyone leaves me Avery. Everyone. Why should I believe that you are the only one that never will?”
“Maybe they were just making room for us,” I suggested.
“There’s no happily ever after Avery,” he looked at me as he talked. “There’s no ma
gical love story that never ends. It doesn’t exist.”
“I think we are pretty magical,” I looked down. “And I know that I’m happy.”
“Until something happens. Until someone else comes along. Until I say or do something that you don’t like. Until being with me isn’t enough and doesn’t make you happy. Then, you will go too.”
“I don’t see that happening,” I shrugged, trying to ignore his insecurity.
“No one ever does.”
“If you know this, then why bother? Why be with me? Why tell me you love me? Why make love to me? Why do any of this?”
“Because,” he sat back down and placed both hands under my chin, lifting my face to look at him. “I can’t stop it. I can’t help it. It’s out of my control. I’m addicted to you Avery.”
“Addicted?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “I can’t walk away. I can’t let you go. I can’t give you up even though I know eventually it will destroy me. Seeing you.- being with you- it’s like a drug I can’t stop taking. It’s bad for me and someday it’s going to kill me. But right now, I just have to have it.”
“Why is this a bad thing?”
“Because what we have is going to destroy us,” he answered.
“That’s morbid,” my thoughts came out without a filter. “And insulting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be either,” he shook his head. “It was just facts.”
“As you see them,” I reminded him. “I happen to see them differently.”
“How so?”
“I see a love so strong and powerful, that we can’t live without the other. And to me, that’s the kind of love that lasts.”
“Or shatters every last piece of our soul when it ends,” he added.
“Then we just have to make sure it doesn’t end,” the answer seemed easy.
“How do we do that?” He asked. “How do we guarantee that it will never go away?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m guessing our first clue can be found with more sex.”
Spencer laughed and I was glad to have the subject closing. I didn’t like hearing his belief that I’d be the same as anyone from his past. We were different. And he knew it or he wouldn’t be so scared.
