The bike ride was average. I tried not to beat myself up about falling off my bike, and attempted to forget the person who probably saw me fall, from their car. It did me no good to think of it.
As we arrived at his street, I couldn’t help but feel relieved – I wondered how difficult it must have been to cycle with another person behind you, on the same bike. I avoided grabbing onto his waist while he rode; avoiding intimacy felt like the appropriate thing to do, at the time.
“Sorry you had to have me on the back of your bicycle, again”, I said. “It’s okay, really. You really don’t give up though, I really admire that about you. It’ll take you far”, he responded.
I felt elated at those words. My entire life, I’ve felt like my accomplishments have been put down or ignored. I was convinced that he had a low mental image of me, but maybe, that was my own.
“Thanks, it hasn’t got me far yet, but maybe someday it will.”. All I wanted to do was sit on the sofa together, watch something fun, and cuddle, but after buying food to cook, that would’ve been redundant.
“You really don’t give up, do you”, I said. She was quite impressive at times, she could have had to repeat an action twenty times to get it right, but she wouldn’t even think of stopping before getting it right. Had I fallen off my bike, I would’ve given up quicker, had I the choice of riding on the back of someone else’s.
When we got home and climbed up the stairs to my apartment, I realized how tired I was. We had had quite the adventure. Sitting down, cuddling her sounded so precious at that moment, but it was time to cook.
We sat down and ate the lasagna, it turned out good. It always did when we cooked together, we were a good team – we always had been. It always felt like we were on the same wavelength. I wanted to kiss him while we sat and ate. I wanted to put down my plate, perk my body up closer to him, grab his face gently…and kiss him. But that would’ve been wrong. He doesn’t want to do that. If he did, it would’ve been simply for lustful reasons. That would’ve created more complications.
She seemed tired while she ate; she was quiet, she looked down most of the time. I wondered if something was wrong, if I had somehow ruined the trip for her. Maybe I made my emotions too obvious, and she wanted more distance. Whatever it was, she still looked sweet. Her eyes were peaceful, and I questioned how I had ever managed to hurt her and not apologise quicker. Then again, words had never been my strong suit.
My thoughts began to drift. I began to recall our relationship and wonder. Why had he never written a song for me? I had written two. Did he not feel enough, to write for me? He was difficult to understand. Maybe he had never loved me at all, he might have just thought that he did.
We ate the food and headed to bed, both proud of our creation. It was a lonely night. I never thought I would ever lay with feelings of such despair and loneliness, while there, right next to someone I perhaps loved. As I turned to my side, facing away from him, he suddenly grabbed my waist and pulled me closer. I smiled, but also felt confused to what this meant.
She was particularly silent, even when going to bed. I felt her body turning away, and wondered if it was simply for comfort, or if it was a bad night for her.
I felt lustful, but I also wanted her closer. It felt wrong, having her so far away. My arm went over her waist, and I pulled her closer, feeling her warm body against mine. It fueled my lust further; but it did not feel like the right time to act upon it.
I suddenly felt suffocated. My lungs felt stuck and breathing became difficult. I attempted to stay calm, and said I needed the bathroom, then walked downstairs. I very quietly pulled the living room door open, rushed to the window to open it, and cried. A sudden surge of darkness filled my spirit. Everything suddenly seemed bleak and pointless, I wondered what it would have been like to end it right there, I thought of how I would have done it. Then I thought of how no one should ever have to witness such a scene with their own eyes – to find a person killed, by their own hands. Then, I attempted to stop thinking of ending it.
It took quite some time to calm down. I wished to be alone, yet I felt so lonely. When after around twenty minutes, I realized that my mood had not changed, I went back to bed. The loneliness felt greater this time – he pulled me close again. I must admit, the loneliness remained.
She disappeared for some time, then came back, looking down, and looking flustered. I held her again, hoping it was enough. It felt like she was holding something back, but I didn’t know what. I heard her breathing in through her wet nose, as one does just after crying. I chose not to ask, and slept again.
I woke up the next day, almost having forgotten what had happened. I felt slightly numb, but not horribly so. Regardless, it was a new day.