Don't Call It Love
You could call it anything. You could have called it desire, passion, nostalgia even. She would call it something like that. And she knows that he wouldn't call it that. He'd call it bad timing and change it to good timing and exceptional moments. She did once, but things change. She is accustomed to change. She likes change. So things changed to aches and pains. Things changed to hate and juvenile games between them. She needed it to change that way, but it got out of hand. It got uncontrolled and thoughtless. Just tactless ploys to destroy one another. She could tell herself that it was fine, that it was okay, that she was just being as dirty and manipulative as he was. And she would let it fall back on inevitable change.
She hates her life changing so much. Overnight it changed to nothing but 'what ifs'. What if her husband had never cheated? What if he never hired her? What if they never kissed that first time? What if she took a chance in law school? When she thought she couldn't control the change of her life, she decided she had to control it. She changed her hair and clothes. She changed her attitude and started to think more. She called it necessary, and it was, but then it got out of control and she was calling things bad timing, like he was.
It was all as easy and simple as the seasons changing. It was nothing but small looks and maybe a small flirt here and there. It was pizza in the office at night. It was an unmade plan that was forgotten over time. It was them talking and being alone. It was old friends, something innocent. And then it changed. It changed to that burning passion and secret lunches. It changed to something they would call an exceptional moment. It was fun and easy. She thought about never being able to feel that way again, but he made it possible. He made her feel special and wanted again. He made her feel like her husband never could. She called it 'walking on water'. Then it changed to him saying "Come back and spend the night with me". It changed to becoming too much, too complicated. Then it was over and it got colder; the seasons changed. Whatever she couldn't call it, it was still there. She thinks that it just froze and kept thawing and thawing until it was scorching again.
It was a blazing fire and she had to get control of it again. She had to freeze it and keep it frozen. She didn't know how, she wasn't sure if she wanted to. She just knows she needed to. It changed to never being alone, keeping their distance and awkward silences. It became nothing but work and she liked it that way. It was only ever meant to be that way. It was meant to only be professional, but it all changed on that one night when everything ended.
She had made a plan. She was making things change her way, the way they should have changed. But soon the day came when she didn't have the option to let it change on her terms. It changed to 'poison'. It changed to dirty looks and absolute hate. She kept calling it okay, that it was normal to be this way, but it kept hurting. She ached all over all the time, just like he was. She knew because why else would he act that way? It was all she knew; him.
She used to think her husband had changed too. After everything that happened, she thought he had changed for the better. It was all forgiveness, and love surfaced after the bad times. That he was a great person and followed the rules again, but of course that had to change for her. She had given so much to him and her family, expecting it to be better and happy again. She thought he'd never break her heart again, but that changed. It changed because she believed it was going to be different. It was all scandals again. It changed to humiliations and investigations. She didn't know him anymore. It changed to not being love anymore.
And even through the battlefield, she knew Will. That hadn't changed. She knew him as well as he knew her. She didn't know what to call it. But that changed one day. An unexpected day. And she would have called it an exceptional moment but once again it was bad timing. It was months too late, but it was a realization: It changed to her calling it love. She used to think you could call it anything, except love. It was meant to be called life. But that changed for her. She changed it to love. She didn't know how else to explain it. She changed it to hate and loathing, but even through that it was something inside of her heart and her soul that told her it wasn't just that. There was more there. A tree fell with no one around and it made a sound.
She loved the good in Peter, but hated the bad. She had eventually fallen in love with her husband again, but she never fell out of something with Will. Through the evil glares and games with him she loved him. She loved the good and the bad. And when she thought she could change it to be good again, it just proved how much she was wrong. He told her it was too little, too late. She told him he could never forget her, forget what they had. That she loved him. All he said was, "Every day since you left, I've thought less and less of you Alicia. I don't love you anymore."
She had changed, but she didn't realize he had changed too. The seasons changed again, and it was freezing. She was becoming frozen herself. He heart began sinking through her cold body. She didn't want to call it anything. She didn't want to call it 'their past'. She wanted it to be a future, but it was still poison. It was always going to be poison. She froze, and shattered into a million pieces.
She didn't call it love anymore; she went back to calling it life. It was life and bad timing. She allowed herself to call it bad timing, because who would know? He wouldn't. He wouldn't care. He would forget her, and forget about bad timing and exceptional moments. He didn't love her anymore, so why would she call it love? Her new 'what if' became 'What if I never left?' One more 'what if' onto the pile.
It was all changing. She became to hate change. There was too much change in her life. She wanted to go back to stolen glances and weekend getaways. She wanted to go spend the night with him. To spend every night with him. And now that there was nothing between them, you really could call it anything. She thought, what was the point in calling it something? Somethings change. They change to nothings. And it became that; nothing.
You could call it anything, but you couldn't call it love.