Explosions in the Sky – Human Qualities
The night wanders away from me like every good memory from an aging mind. Slowly at first, and then suddenly it’s sunrise and I have to ponder over every decision I’ve made that got me here.
I broke his heart.
And in every minute that passes between us in silence, I can hear the crack grow bigger. All his questions wanting to get out of the little spaces between his hesitation and the sheer will to appear strong.
A coffee mug sits in the middle of us, so unassuming. It was the first thing I ever bought him. It says “Phony” in screaming red letters, a word from one of his favorite books. And now it screams back at me so loudly–I guess that’s how it works.
By the third hour, we have exhausted all our words, and we talk in head tilts and sighs. Our movements calculated, precise. He gives me a look that says, “I think I sort of understand,” and I shake my head to answer, “you know I’ll always love you, right?” But I keep the rest of it with me.
I don’t let out what kind of love is left in me for him. I make no movement to indicate that it’s the kind you will always wish you had more of, but don’t regret not having anymore, like a favorite TV show they cancelled too soon, but then the ending makes sense and you make peace with it.
Sometimes there are disappointments so great and palpable you know it had to happen for you to grow. And I know I’ve erased every role I had in his life with one mistake. I will never be Girlfriend, Best Friend, Confidant, Crazy Cat Lady, Murakami Fangirl. I will only be Cheater.
I circle my finger around the coffee mug rim and can almost hear his laughter from the first time he used it. I pick it up, wanting to channel whatever residue of joy was left from that moment. He stands up to look at me and says two words I never thought would ever hurt far more than anything else in the world.