PART 9
A bright light sears through your closed eyes. You flinch. Then carefully, you open your eyes. Confusion sets in. Where’s the beach? Where’s Sydney?
You look around and see that you are in your house. That horrible one that was the setting for so many lies. The sharp light is the sun that is blazing through a thin vertical slit in the blinds of a window. The glare makes you quickly move your eyes downwards, and your gaze settles on a liqueur bottle that is lying on its side near your feet. It’s empty.
Slowly, it comes back to you. Finding out that Lauren was deceiving you, ever since you first met her. Sitting at home with the bottle of… whatever it was. You must have finished the bottle and passed out in a drunken stupor. Wonder how driving to Sydney’s fits into all of it.
It doesn’t fit, and it takes a while for it to sink in. You didn’t go to her place. You’ve never even seen it. And that means you never told her that you love her. Lay back in your chair, defeated, wondering how a dream so vivid could be just that. A dream.
However, it is clear what the meaning of the dream is. You know what you have to do. Don’t think twice about it. Jump up, slip into sneakers, grab your car keys, and go.
As you approach her apartment, wonder at how easily you found the place, having never been there before. But don’t linger on that thought for too long, as you park next to her car. Before you open your door, sit with your hands on the steering wheel, finally thinking about what you’re about to do. Then realize that it requires no thinking. You love her. That’s all you need. You’ve always loved her. And you need to tell her that.
Make the short walk to her front door, running your hand through your tousled hair. You probably look horrible, but you don’t care. Sydney has seen you looking much worse. It won’t matter to her, anyways. Before you ring her doorbell, take a deep breath.
Ring the doorbell, and hear her call, in a muffled voice, “I’ll be right there!” Finally look at your watch, which is plastered to your wrist after a night of sleeping upright. It’s seven thirty in the morning. You probably woke her up. Smile at the thought of seeing her with still sleepy eyes, her hair mussed.
Wait in a long moment of anticipation, that smile still on your lips. Finally, the door opens. Glance down for a minute, then look up. The smile fades from your lips. At the door is a man. Frown a little as it registers that he is shirtless and looks like he just rolled out of bed.
“Can I help you?” this unknown man asks, as he looks you up and down. Realize what this means. As your heart plummets to your feet, fumble for an excuse. “Oh, sorry, I have the wrong door,” you say lamely, keeping your voice low, so she won’t hear you and know you’re here.
The other man smiles a little and closes the door. Stand there, unable to move. From the other side of the door, you hear her again, this time asking, “who was that?” The man says something in a muffled voice. The door doesn’t reopen.
Force your feet to move. Walk past your car, down the sidewalk that you walked hand in hand with her in your dream. Vaguely smell the salty breeze from the ocean, but you’re too numb for anything to really register. The ocean comes into view, and it’s sparkling in the sun.
In the early hour, the beach is deserted. Walk along the soft sand a bit, until the pain becomes too much. Sit in the sand, heavy, and close your eyes to stop the tears. Nearby, the ocean expands and recedes in slow shushing noises. The thoughts begin to flow.
She had said that she was moving on. She said so, in plain words. You got married, so you had no rights to her. In the moment that you said, “I do,” to the wrong woman, you lost any claim you may have had to her heart. Of course she didn’t wait for you. You didn’t wait for her.
Wish to go back three years and tell her you love her, no matter how many times she tries to stop you with a wistful smile and an “I know.” Then maybe everything would have turned out differently. But wishes are futile.
Think about all the times you could have said it. All the perfect moments you let slip right past you. Toss around the thought of going back to her apartment and telling her now. But you know it wouldn’t be fair to her. After all her heartache, she’s over you. And you know it would only be fair to let her go. Telling her how you feel now would only make things more complicated in her life. And no matter what she’s said in the past, the last thing you want to do is make things harder for her.
The tears recede permanently and you open your eyes. Blink a few times, adjusting to the morning light. Look at the ocean, so calm today. Remember the way she looked so serene, sleeping by your side in the mornings, her bare skin glowing in the morning light. The foam-tipped waves lap gently onto the sand, disappearing and returning in an even pattern. Remember the way her hand would caress your shoulder, her fingers drifting down gently to trace the outline of your tattoo. Further in the distance, the water twinkles, winking at you from a thousand directions. Just look at all of this and think of the things that can never be.
And I know it’s over- still I cling
I don’t know where else I can go
Over and over
I know it’s over and it never really began
But in my heart
It was so real.
THE END