Perhaps he can save her.
The thought made her smile, such a fanciful thing to think. By now she’s almost beyond that point; driven there by others, as well as her own cynicism. It doesn’t stop her from indulging her romantic side by imagining that this one would be different.
She always said that ‘you could tell’ when something was just infatuation, just saying ‘I like that person’ and when something was going to happen, when she would admit it, expose herself. She had exposed herself to him, in more then one way, but she never took a risk, she knew how he felt long before she did anything—she’s too careful to do something without knowing the reaction it will elicit.
But the flame had begun to flicker; the end of the wonderful, golden beginnings was near. She knew what she had to do, she knew it would her him more then it hurt her. But it had to be done. She had to protect herself before she got to attached to him. Attachment meant he could hurt her. He couldn’t save her. No one could.
She picked up the phone, dialed the familiar number, and waited for him to pick up. Answering machine. She wasn’t cold-hearted enough to break up with him on an answering machine. “Call me back.” She kept her message, short and sweet. He would know who it was and call her back.
That evening she heard a knock on her door, and opened it to reveal him.
“You called?” he asked, a small smile on his face. Things like that—his smile, how willingly he came when she called—were going to make this hard for her, but she had to do it. She had to protect herself.
Putting on her serious face, she let him in before uttering those four little words. “We need to talk.”
His face immediately changed to match her somber expression. “About what?”
She could hear the worry in his voice, and tried to keep her voice as flat and unemotional as she could. “This isn’t working for me.”
“What? Why?” She could tell he was totally blindsided by this. “It…it seemed to be working for you yesterday….”
She couldn’t explain to him that she had known that yesterday would be their last day together before she ended it, couldn’t explain that she had been savoring the moment before she cut it—him—off from being just another painful memory.
“It just isn’t working, okay?” Her voice cracked when she said this, and he took it as a sign that she wasn’t completely given over to breaking up with him.
“Why isn’t it working?” he asked, still a bit miffed. One of his hands reached out to touch her, to offer some comfort, but she slapped it away.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” There was no way she was going to spill her heart to him in the midst of trying to end it.
“How can we get through it if you won’t tell me what’s wrong?”
Some of her resolve weakened when he used the word ‘we’, but she redoubled her effort to remain firm and not give in to the moment. Giving into the moment rarely turned out well. “There is no more ‘we’.” She snapped at him, more angry with herself now for being weak enough to not want to go through with this then she was at him.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened and we work things out.” He had used it again: we.
She couldn’t stop a tear from leaking out her traitorous eyes, blending with her mascara to leave a watery black path down her cheek.
This time when he reached out to envelop her in his warm embrace she offered no resistance, cuddling close before she could stop herself. He seemed content to hold her for several minutes before asking her again, “What’s bothering you?”
She answered by burying her face in his shoulder. He gently lifted her chin with his finger so she was looking up in his eyes. “Whatever’s bothering you, I’m sure it’s not so bad as all this. Please, tell me.”
The sincerity in his voice broke her last barriers. She hadn’t meant to tell him, she had wanted to stay strong, unattached. Free. He wasn’t going to let her. Once she started talking she just couldn’t stop. She told him how everyone else had hurt her, how scared she was that he’d hurt her, how much she just wanted to protect herself. Most of it was nonsensical, but he got the basic gist.
All throughout the time she ranted, he held her, stroking her back, and listened silently—as much as he may have wanted to speak up, to defend himself against her inadvertent insults by insinuating that he would ever hurt her, he was quiet. He knew it wasn’t the time; she needed to get this out of her system before she could heal.
After her words dissolved into quiet sobs, he looked her straight in the eyes and told her “I love you.” He offered no promise that he wouldn’t hurt her.
She noticed, and it comforted her. Everyone else always denied it, his simple admission was more truthful then theirs fevernt promises had ever been. He wasn’t going to lie to her. He seemed to be admitting that there was no way that he would know that he would never hurt her, and his honesty reassured her more then any promise he could have made.
Her mind eased, her tears slowed. She knew there was no way of knowing what the future would hold for them, but she found herself less apprehensive, simply because he didn’t seem to intent on worrying about it.
Maybe he could be the one to save her.