Monday, April 29, 2013

Y is for Yelling Silently

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, looking out his window, like he wished he was out there, already done with this, done with me.

“Do what?” I whispered, drawing it out.   

He glanced back towards me. I lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t see the knowledge there. But he knew me well enough by then; he waited me out, waited for me to lift my eyes. Eventually I did.

“I can’t pretend I love you anymore.”

The words hung in the air as he waited for me to acknowledge them.

I nodded.

I didn’t know it would be so hard hearing it spoken out loud. I mean he’d been saying it for weeks, but not out loud.  

I nodded again and looked out my own window. His passenger door opened and then closed as he went out to where he’d rather be.