"I'm…I'm sorry. I just don't feel that way about you."
You can hear the pounding in your ears. The woman sitting across from you with the face of sympathy was babbling on and on but you can't hear a word of it. Didn't want to hear a word of it. The deep thumping of your pulse played in the background of the words that made you freeze. Staring like a fucking fool in the dimly lit restaurant. What were you thinking? Candle light dinner? Really? Maybe you pushed her too far. Maybe she's freaking out because you came on too strong. Too fast. I mean how much money did you spend on this? This dress. This fancy restaurant. Those flowers. Things you know she doesn't really care about. Why? Why did you do all of this. Stupid. Stupid. You crowded her. Maybe she just needs to think about it.
"…and it's not something that I've really ever thought about before and…"
Ha! See. You were right. She's never thought about it before. Maybe if you just give her a little time to think it ov-…wait. She's never thought about it before. She's NEVER thought about it before. How could that be true? All you do is think about it. Think about her. Her bright smile. Her wavy hair. Her lips. Her body. Her hands. Her brain. her. JUST HER. You're saturated with her. But she's never thought about it…about you.
"That can't be right," you mumble.
She doesn't even register that you've spoken. She's too busy in her embarrassment trying to salvage the relationship you just ship wrecked. You look closer. Analyzing her and you can tell that she's known. From the moment you asked her to have dinner with you this morning. She's known exactly what you were going to say. But you thought that this was what she wanted. The way she smiles at you or winks. How you walk Jo together and spend the night more often than you don't. Cooking dinner and riding to work together. You're a family. How can she not fucking SEE!
"But…we belong together. I thought…I thought you knew that. I thought you understood how much I love you."
"I do." She's scrambling. She's uncomfortable. You've made her uncomfortable. "I do know."
You swallow the desperation creeping up like figs entrapping your vocal cords. Trying the get the red fire in your ears and neck to subside but you can't. "I love you." She looks at you as if you've just revealed you have cancer. And maybe it is. A cancerous love violating every part of your being. Scratching and clawing its way to the one organ that is still kicking. You're heart. She has it in the palm of her right hand. The cure that you need, tightly grasped in the left. But she won't give it to you. And that makes you angry. You've never yelled at her before. But as your body metastasizes at the dinner table you can't help but reach for the last bit of hope. Any reaction from her is warranted. So you bait her.
"I said, I love you!" She hates it when you yell. She's seen you upset with others, but only once at her and that was the worst month of both of your lives. She looks around quickly. Gaging other's responses to your anger, but you don't care about theirs. only hers.
Finally she looks back at you. Lowering her head and whispering, "You know I love you too. Just not like that."
And that completely blows your mind. Just not like that. Then how?! You don't realize you've asked the question out loud until you see her take a deep breath, rubbing her hand across the base of her neck. Clutching the necklace you bought her two Christmases ago. "Then how?" you ask again.
"As a friend. You know that. As my best friend."
You chuckle bitterly and look off for a moment. You can't believe this is happening. It was NOT supposed to be like this. "Okay," you laugh. "So you don't love me when you latch on to me at night when were in bed. Huh. The same bed. Or when your anxiety sky rockets because the case we caught is dealing with a kid and you just need me to hold you in the parking garage for a minute." You're embarrassing her. You can tell by the way she ducks her head and tucks her hair behind her ear for the sixth time this evening. You've counted. "You don't…you don't love me when…" stop. Stop crying. Just STOP! But you can't. I mean after what you've confessed, it can only go downhill from here right? "When I know exactly how you like your coffee. Or when I take the lent from the dryer because you always forget. Or…Or how you kissed me on our last night in California."
Finally you get a rise out of her. Her head snaps up so fast that her hair falls out of place, again. She tucks it back. Again. Seven. "That was…one time. And we swore we'd never talk about it again. You promised. You promised." She's cry now too.
"I know what-" You can hear your own shuttering breath and needy voice and it surprises you. Sure you'd thought there would be shuttering breaths and needy voices but not here. Later, in a bed. With your arms wrapped around her. Her fingers inside you. He lips…everywhere. ON. YOU. But no. Instead your hands greedily, shakily move across the table to clasp hers. She tries to pull away from you with tears streaming down her face but you pull harder with the strength neither one of you knew you possessed. You look pathetic. "I know what I said. Okay? I know. And I know you said you were drunk, but you weren't. I KNOW YOU WEREN'T. I just. I need to be with you. I need-" But you can't go on. The sobs are becoming too frequent and people are staring. You're ashamed and you let your head sink to the table. You're entire body stretching to still cling to her sweaty palms. "I need you. I need you. I need. You." You say it over and over and over again. Because you do. need. her. Like the air that refuses to fully enter your lungs the way she refuses to fully enter your soul.
She's up. Somehow without releasing your hands, she's gotten up and is on her knees at your side in the dress she wore just for you. Beside you wrapping her arms around your waist and moving with the trembling of your body. You cling to her. Letting your sorrow fall into her hair. Repeatedly whispering, "I need you. I love you. I need you."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"No!" You try to shout but your voice is giving out just like the lavender candles you requested. "Don't say that. Don't tell me you're sorry. Tell me you need me. Tell me you love me."
She's quiet for a long time until finally she squeezes just a little tighter. "I do, baby. Just not-"
"Like that." You finish her sentence. You've always been good at that. Finishing each other's sentences. You snuggle deeper into her. Her shampoo clogging your suffocated lungs and soothing them at the same time. Just not like that. You don't want to let go. But you know you'll have to. What's scarier is that you don't know how-…if you'll be able to. You're addicted to her. But you don't care. Now you hold her. And she lets you. She lets you. For now.
A/N:...I'm sorry. I'm not sure what possessed me to write this. I'm also not sure whose perspective this is from. You tell me in the reviews. Jane or Maura? Anyway this shit fest happened after I listened to Gravity by Sara Bareilles.