LJ Idol Week Eight - If You Leave
I have become a poison. Every word spilling out of my mouth is virulent, every touch flowing from my fingertips laced with toxin. He tells me how disrespectful I've been, how everything I do is permeated by a layer of distrust. Whenever we chance upon eye-contact he looks away. It feels like he hasn't smiled at me in months.
I have to save this, I have to win him back. If it means denying myself what I truly what, so be it, because it feels safer to stay in this relationship and try one last time than to walk away and start anew after all we've been through. We were happy once, and I think it could be that way again if I could only win back his trust.
He comes home from work one evening and says nothing to me until I tell him that I think we should close our relationship again.
In an instant that veil of stoicism that he has been hiding behind vanishes, and I see a tide of hope and love flood back into his eyes. He tells me that I'm everything to him, I'm the love of his life, that saying that to him already makes him feel more trust for me. I am sobbing because this is everything I've ever wanted him to say to me, that he wants it just to be us again, for the rest of our lives, forever, but a part of me is aware that it's already too late. I want to believe him, I so badly want to accept what he's saying to me and feel certain that as soon as a woman who isn't me comes along and tells him that they don't care that I'm the woman in his house, in his bed, that they still want him despite me, that he won't change his mind again and whatever agency I ever held in our relationship will be taken from me once more the way it has been again and again and…
Through my tears I tell him that I want to try whatever I can to make this work again. I feel like I owe it to him, owe it to this love we've built for the past three years. There is a part of my heart that has escaped and doesn't belong to either of us anymore grieving at this decision, but I silence it for a time. We let this momentary happiness delude us into believing like everything that's happened hasn't changed us, we let it carry us through the next few weeks.
Despite our best efforts this careful and profound connection that has started to develop between Mike and I continues to flourish. Every interaction we have leaves me wanting more, even though I am trying so hard to exercise self-control. I wish I didn't think about the way his hand feels on my thigh when we're in his car together or how much I want to close the distance between us whenever we're standing face-to-face or what happens inside me when we lock eyes as much as I do. I crave his attention, crave him, and I want to hate myself for it but it feels too extraordinary. We try limiting our time together, it only makes things more frustrating. My body is so attuned to him that even feeling his eyes pass over me is enough to send electric longing ache its way through me.
One night at a Lodge staff fire we use the cover of darkness to let our fingers subtly intertwine as we stand next to each other, and he asks me if I want to go for a walk. I nod eagerly and we slip away, leaving Alex and everyone behind. We walk a short distance to the barn before deciding to sit on the balcony and enjoy this stolen moment together. It feels innocent enough, sitting on a bench surrounded by stars as the moon hangs heavy in the sky, dripping its beams over the surface of the lake. I rest my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me and we don't say anything, we don't need to.
I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I lift my head and recognize Alex's silouhette against the night.
"What the fuck, what are you guys doing here? Do you realize how suspicious this looks?" I can hear the alarm and the hurt in his voice and my heart sinks. We explain that we just came to spend some time together but there is no reasoning with Alex in this moment and he takes off. He had come here for a moment of his own, not expecting to find us.
I lean into Mike for a moment before I tell him that I should follow him. He pulls me into his arms and I rest my head on his chest and he wishes me luck, I look up and thank him before vanishing into the darkness.
I feel strangely calm as I follow Alex's retreating figure up the dirt road to our house. When we're inside I tell him how I've been feeling this past month, how strongly I feel for Mike and how I no longer want to resist those feelings. We go to bed upset and without resolving anything, but in the morning he asks me if I've still been cuddling with Mike in his bed.
"Yes," I say.
"It's over."
My world ends, he leaves. I fall apart over the next few hours, in denial, refusing to believe that this is my reality, that after all of this I have failed.
Somehow the morning passes. Alex finds me at lunch sitting by the lake and takes a spot next to me. I can't look at him.
"I don't really want to break up," he tells me, after I've spent the last few hours attempting to re-imagine my life without him, without our future together being what defines me.
We spend one last night together, one beautifully heartbreaking night together. I am honest with him when we talk, I feel strength in my honesty. We drink rum, we laugh, weep, make love, reminisce and mourn the loss of what we shared. Through it all I remain steadfast in my certainty that ending this relationship is what we need, what I need.
The next morning I wake up terrified, sobbing, words tumbling from my mouth that I am worried I'm making a huge mistake. What if I regret this forever? It's not fair for me to say this to him, to ask him for reassurance for leaving him. He tells me he loves me, that I'm being so strong, that he's not expecting me to make any decisions right now, and I wonder how this suddenly became my decision to make. I wish, selfishly, that he would make it easier for me.
The thought of not being with him petrifies me, but I know that it's why I need to go through with this, why I can't refuse this change. I tell him that we need to do this now so that we can be happy later, and I think I believe myself. He is leaving for the weekend and I tell him that I won't move out until he's back, so he won't return to an empty house.
When he shuts the door behind him, bag slung over his shoulder, I am filled with the most acute loss that I have ever felt, but there is a glimmer of something else. A curious warmth, a surge of possibility, that small voice inside me whispering freedom. I will embrace change, I won't let fear guide me anymore.
I lay on my back, watching the day fade through the windows on the ceiling, watching stars collide. A knocking at the door wakes me around midnight, and I smile.
I have to save this, I have to win him back. If it means denying myself what I truly what, so be it, because it feels safer to stay in this relationship and try one last time than to walk away and start anew after all we've been through. We were happy once, and I think it could be that way again if I could only win back his trust.
He comes home from work one evening and says nothing to me until I tell him that I think we should close our relationship again.
In an instant that veil of stoicism that he has been hiding behind vanishes, and I see a tide of hope and love flood back into his eyes. He tells me that I'm everything to him, I'm the love of his life, that saying that to him already makes him feel more trust for me. I am sobbing because this is everything I've ever wanted him to say to me, that he wants it just to be us again, for the rest of our lives, forever, but a part of me is aware that it's already too late. I want to believe him, I so badly want to accept what he's saying to me and feel certain that as soon as a woman who isn't me comes along and tells him that they don't care that I'm the woman in his house, in his bed, that they still want him despite me, that he won't change his mind again and whatever agency I ever held in our relationship will be taken from me once more the way it has been again and again and…
Through my tears I tell him that I want to try whatever I can to make this work again. I feel like I owe it to him, owe it to this love we've built for the past three years. There is a part of my heart that has escaped and doesn't belong to either of us anymore grieving at this decision, but I silence it for a time. We let this momentary happiness delude us into believing like everything that's happened hasn't changed us, we let it carry us through the next few weeks.
Despite our best efforts this careful and profound connection that has started to develop between Mike and I continues to flourish. Every interaction we have leaves me wanting more, even though I am trying so hard to exercise self-control. I wish I didn't think about the way his hand feels on my thigh when we're in his car together or how much I want to close the distance between us whenever we're standing face-to-face or what happens inside me when we lock eyes as much as I do. I crave his attention, crave him, and I want to hate myself for it but it feels too extraordinary. We try limiting our time together, it only makes things more frustrating. My body is so attuned to him that even feeling his eyes pass over me is enough to send electric longing ache its way through me.
One night at a Lodge staff fire we use the cover of darkness to let our fingers subtly intertwine as we stand next to each other, and he asks me if I want to go for a walk. I nod eagerly and we slip away, leaving Alex and everyone behind. We walk a short distance to the barn before deciding to sit on the balcony and enjoy this stolen moment together. It feels innocent enough, sitting on a bench surrounded by stars as the moon hangs heavy in the sky, dripping its beams over the surface of the lake. I rest my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me and we don't say anything, we don't need to.
I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I lift my head and recognize Alex's silouhette against the night.
"What the fuck, what are you guys doing here? Do you realize how suspicious this looks?" I can hear the alarm and the hurt in his voice and my heart sinks. We explain that we just came to spend some time together but there is no reasoning with Alex in this moment and he takes off. He had come here for a moment of his own, not expecting to find us.
I lean into Mike for a moment before I tell him that I should follow him. He pulls me into his arms and I rest my head on his chest and he wishes me luck, I look up and thank him before vanishing into the darkness.
I feel strangely calm as I follow Alex's retreating figure up the dirt road to our house. When we're inside I tell him how I've been feeling this past month, how strongly I feel for Mike and how I no longer want to resist those feelings. We go to bed upset and without resolving anything, but in the morning he asks me if I've still been cuddling with Mike in his bed.
"Yes," I say.
"It's over."
My world ends, he leaves. I fall apart over the next few hours, in denial, refusing to believe that this is my reality, that after all of this I have failed.
Somehow the morning passes. Alex finds me at lunch sitting by the lake and takes a spot next to me. I can't look at him.
"I don't really want to break up," he tells me, after I've spent the last few hours attempting to re-imagine my life without him, without our future together being what defines me.
We spend one last night together, one beautifully heartbreaking night together. I am honest with him when we talk, I feel strength in my honesty. We drink rum, we laugh, weep, make love, reminisce and mourn the loss of what we shared. Through it all I remain steadfast in my certainty that ending this relationship is what we need, what I need.
The next morning I wake up terrified, sobbing, words tumbling from my mouth that I am worried I'm making a huge mistake. What if I regret this forever? It's not fair for me to say this to him, to ask him for reassurance for leaving him. He tells me he loves me, that I'm being so strong, that he's not expecting me to make any decisions right now, and I wonder how this suddenly became my decision to make. I wish, selfishly, that he would make it easier for me.
The thought of not being with him petrifies me, but I know that it's why I need to go through with this, why I can't refuse this change. I tell him that we need to do this now so that we can be happy later, and I think I believe myself. He is leaving for the weekend and I tell him that I won't move out until he's back, so he won't return to an empty house.
When he shuts the door behind him, bag slung over his shoulder, I am filled with the most acute loss that I have ever felt, but there is a glimmer of something else. A curious warmth, a surge of possibility, that small voice inside me whispering freedom. I will embrace change, I won't let fear guide me anymore.
I lay on my back, watching the day fade through the windows on the ceiling, watching stars collide. A knocking at the door wakes me around midnight, and I smile.