And My Heart Flew from Its Cage
"Maybe there's no haven in this world for tender age
My heart beat like the wings of wild birds in a cage
My greatest hope my greatest cause to grieve
And my heart flew from its cage and it bled upon my sleeve"
-Indigo Girls; Prince of Darkness
“I’m sorry… I just don’t feel the same way you do.” The words are said softly, sadly. It amazes me that, even though this was the answer I was expecting, the answer I knew I would get, it still hurt so much. Still felt like a fist had been shoved down my throat before seizing my heart and ripping it out. Cliché, but that’s how it felt.
“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” I was proud of the firmness in my voice, the fact that the shakiness that I could feel everywhere didn’t pervade this last chance for dignity. I very carefully kept my hands to my sides, though I wanted to push my hair out of my face in a nervous gesture that I could not break. I knew that if I did, though, there would be no hiding the shaking of my hands. And as soon as he asked about that, there would be no hiding at all… and I needed that at the moment. I had little else.
“We’re still… friends?” he said, the defeat already in his voice. I knew he had seen this coming. He knew I knew. And the sad thing was that I still had to go through with this, just in case, because I just could not kill of that one little flutter of hope that rested in my heart. Though it had been quite neatly ripped apart by that answer.
I smiled at him and said, “Of course.” Of course. But I still loved him… and there was nothing I could do about it. And there was nothing he could do about that. It was just the facts, plain and simple. I love him. He doesn’t love me. And there it is. And that smile had cost me more than I thought it would. I could feel the shaking begin to work its way up my hands to my arms and knew that I needed to go before I couldn’t. “I need to go.” There was no explanation. There didn’t need to be. With him, everything was full of clarity, with him I was entirely truthful, with him… With him I was better than I ever thought I could be. Too bad we didn’t want the same layers that colored the word “with”.
He nodded once, before turning to look toward the fire flickering gently in the fireplace. The light caressed his face in a way that, I was just now realizing, I would never have permission to. I caught the sob in my throat. Just six steps. Four steps. Two steps.
“If…” the word was said so softly that I almost didn’t catch it. But I did. I turned and he was looking at me, sorrow etched on his face, a look that was there too often. It killed me that I had put it there. He took a deep breath and continued, “If I could love…” He trailed off again, staring at me, looking me right in the eyes. “If I could. I would love you.”
The pain in my chest felt as though it were a living thing trying to escape the cage of my ribs. If he could…? I can’t ask him to finish. Can’t ask him if what he meant was if he could love, period. Or if what he meant was if he could love the same sex. Can’t ask him. Because neither answer will change anything. Neither answer will give me the peace I need. And I realize what an insidious word “if” is. Two small letters, put together, to form such complications. Such a small word to imply so very much, to hurt so very much, to haunt so very much. Such a small word…
“I know,” I say and then leave. Because I do know. It doesn’t matter which he meant, what matters is that he can’t. For whatever reason, he can’t. And I can do nothing but love him and know that nothing will ever come of it. I know that no one will make me happier than he would have made me. I know that. And that is why, when I walk through that door, I keep walking. Because if he sees me break down, nothing can be the same. Because I told him we would still be friends, and I still want us to be. Because I told him that I loved him. And because, despite all this, I still do. And I will remember it every time I see him. I can’t hide from that fact. But I will hold it close to my heart, that horrible, taunting, torturing “if”, because I know. I know that, if he could, he would love me. And that makes me love him even more.
Created: September 2006
Last Edited: 23 December 2008
Notes: I really love this piece; it's a personal favorite.