Saying I Love You
"I'm sorry," I say, for what must be the tenth time. Under the table my knees bump yours as I bounce my leg. "For what?" You ask, and we fall back into silence, as we have done every time I have told you, over the course of the evening. For a moment I am lost in your eyes, looking for hope or resentment in them, though I am not sure which, until we both turn our gazes away. I stare thoughtlessly as the coffee in my hands, praying it will give me strength for what is coming. This evening has not gone entirely according to plan, and I know this is my last chance to make my confession.
"Ishouldhavetoldyousooner,it'sokifyoudon'twanttobefriendsanymore." It all comes out in a flood of words; I didn't plan to tell you like this. I shoot a quick glace at you, and the expression on your face I can't read. "I know this is a really bad time to do this, I know." I bluster forward, always watching your expression. "I didn't mean to put this burden on you, but I couldn't keep it in any more." I pause; take in breath. "I know I've lost any chance I ever could have had, but I had to tell you anyway." Another breath. Everything is measured in breaths for the time being. One breath, we're still friends. Another breath, I've done the unpardonable. I have broken the cardinal rule. I have done the unthinkable, and now I'm pleading my case to the Judge. I fell in love with my best friend. "I love you. It doesn't matter if it goes no farther than this." I'm becoming more composed with every breath I take, more resigned to the coming rejection. "I don't know why I need to tell you this, I know it could ruin our friendship completely, but I couldn't live with myself if I never told you."
I am still watching you. You're still staring at your coffee cup, and to me it suddenly looks like your clinging to it as though it were the last life preserver on a sinking ship. I still can't read your expression, and it troubles me. Doubt is eating me alive. What will you say? Will you give me a pardon, or send me to the gallows, to my death? I don't know. Again, we lapse into silence. I don't have any more words for this moment, though I wish I did. But my mind is empty save for the fervent manta 'please don't let her hate me, please don't let her hate me'. I can't watch you any more; I turn my eyes out to wander over the few other customers in this tiny coffee shop so late at night. I don't see any of them.
"How can you be so stupid to think I wouldn't want to be your friend any more over something like this?" You ask, and when I look up at you I wonder how I ever thought of you as anything other than calm and composed. I don't answer; I don't know what to say. I know that no matter what you would stand by me, but I also know that self-doubt is a hard thing to overcome and I am battling it more than ever before. I want to tell you that I didn't doubt you but rather my own worth, after all why would you want me, the girl you grew up with, when you have men tossing themselves at you, but I can't seem to find my voice. I am a chastised child, being scolded for being afraid to speak up for fear of being hated. All I can do is sit there mutely, trying to beg forgiveness with my eyes.
You open your mouth, and I am afraid you will scold me again, but you close it and look away. I wish the earth would swallow me whole; I wish I could take back my words and make you smile at me again. I turn my head so you can't see me fight off tears. "Baka..." you say softly, "You're my best girlfriend! This doesn't change anything." You look up at me and I look up at you and see what you are doing. You're trying to move past. I wish I could, but I can't move on until I know exactly how you feel about me. I need to hear the words, the truth. I need to hear from your lips if you hate me or if someday we could be something more than this. I know in that breath that I can either move past with you and go back to things as they were with the introduction of awkward silences when ever we remember this night, or I can press on and risk loosing everything.
I press on. Deep down, I hate myself for dragging this out when you were willing to let it pass, but I have to know before the night is through. "I love you," I whisper, and there is more feeling those three words than there was in the entire speech I gave you earlier. "If I can't go to sleep next to you at night, wake up next to you in the mornings, eat meals with you, share the good times and the bad with you, if I never get the chance to talk to you every night before we go to bed, I want to at least make this clear, and I want you to be honest with me." I suck in a huge breath and continue before you can say a word. "It doesn't matter if you love me the way I love you or not. It doesn't matter if you say you never want to see me again. I'll be sad, but at least I'll be able to say I know exactly how you feel about me. I love you, and I mean that."
"I need some time," you say, but not harshly; it is not meant to delay this, it is an honest request for more time, "I need to clear my head." I stand. Time I can give you, but if it is time you need then some fresh air probably isn't a bad idea either. I place a few bills on the table, enough to cover the tab, and wait for you to rise. When you do, I marvel at your easy grace, as I have always done in your presence. The walk to the door is silent, but strangely companionable. You are lost in your thoughts, and I have nothing to say. When we step out of the little shop it is into the cool brisk autumn wind, which tugs at our hair and clothes. I smile at you, though you are not looking to see it. Somehow, right in this one breath everything is perfect. I can pretend that maybe I don't love you but that we are still the best of friends or, if I wish, I can pretend that we are just two girls in love, I with you and you with me.
The moment passes, and we are walking farther and farther away from it. I do not know what will happen to us after this night is through, but I pray I will not loose you for good. I sigh, but you do not notice. Our breath comes in little transparent white clouds, like ghosts. For a long time we walk almost aimlessly, I am watching the streets, and you seem to be letting me guide us. After a time, I spot a familiar street and a destination comes to mind. If I am to have my heart broken, I can think of no better place to have it done. On impulse I grab your hand and to my surprise you do not pull away, but follow as I pull you through the streets. I wonder if you are so deep in thought you do not realize.
As we go the landmarks that we both know pass by, one after the next after the next until we are there. I stop on the wharf and turn to look at you. At some point during the walk you have pulled yourself from your thoughts and are looking at me, inspecting me, searching me for something. I can feel your soft skin against my fingers and the warmth from your body just a step away. In the lamplight, your hair shines and your eyes sparkle. I take a moment to just take you in; this might be the last chance I get. Your clothes fit you perfectly, and I cannot remember you ever being more beautiful. I have to tip my head back to look into your sweet blue eyes, with your high heels on you are so much taller than me. I am not sure what motivates me, but I step forward and tilt my head to the side, stopping with my lips not even an inch from your own. Part of me warns me to move back, to step away, but I can't. I can smell you, your shampoo, your perfume, your coffee, and your breath, everything that reminds me of you, mixed in with the heavy scent of salt water in the air. I am lost. I close the gap, and press my lips to yours as gently as I know how.
I am instantly mesmerized by how soft your lips are, by how much better you smell in such close proximity, by the overwhelming urge to keep kissing you, to touch you, to do more. It is this urge that brings me back to the present, that makes me drop your hand softly back to your side, that makes me step back. I know that if I do not, I will not wait to know what you think of me, I will lay siege to your body in the most pleasurable way until I know every inch of you or you tell me to stop. I turn away, trying to find some semblance of composure, but it seems futile. There are only two ways this can really go, now that I have pressed things to this point.
I watch the water and think about how our lives are so different now, how intertwined they once were, but are not any longer. I think about how even if you return my feelings things may never work out for us. I know that I wish things would work out, I wish I could be your one and only. I sigh and let my mind wander for a moment to what I would do to you if I was ever free to love you physically as well as emotionally.
For a moment my mind drifts on a thousand and one ways I want to make you squirm with passion. I consider the ways I would tease every erogenous piece of your body. I undress you in my mind, and hope someday I might have the chance to learn every inch of you by texture, scent, taste. I want to know how to make you moan, the way to make you scream, the way to coax your body into wave after wave of pleasure. I pull myself out of my thoughts. It is one thing for me to love you and for you to accept that love, and another for me to want you to give me your body, your heart, without reservations. I cringe. I hate myself for having such crude thoughts, but I know no matter what you say tonight I will not be able to stop my body or my mind from wanting yours.
Finally, with pain-staking slowness I turn back around. At some point you have moved to sit along the edge of the pier, and are staring into the inky blackness below your feet. "Mind if I join you?" I ask quietly, not wanting to break the calm induced by the sound of the waves below us. You nod, and I slide up next to you, leaving enough room between us so that I will not be too tempted by you, but close enough to hear you over the ocean. Once I am settled you lie back on the cold stone and stare up at the stars. "What are you thinking?" I ask you, and I wonder what your response will be. You smile, for the first time tonight, and sit back up. I am suddenly acutely aware of how silent you have been all night.
I am a bundle of nerves, stretched taunt, about to break. I know the verdict is coming, and I can feel my body cringing in anticipation. My eyes are squeezed shut and my hands are clenched into fists in my lap. Every muscle in my body is tense, waiting. "I don't know what this means," You say softly, gently, "But I love you too." My heart soars for a second. "But, we can't be together right now. I'm in a relationship and so are you." My heart, doing summersaults, freezes. Hesitantly I ask "But, maybe someday?" I look at you, and you are still smiling. "Baka! Of course." I am thawed, and I let out a breath I had been holding. Much relieved, I flop back next to you on the stone and roll over to face you. "I really do love you," I say. "You have made me the happiest woman in the world."
~Published in NECC's Parnassus Literary and Art Magazine, Fall 06