7/18/2012: Word Prompts: Pollute, dilute, salute


I didn't know.

I should have known.

I should have realized the second that door closed behind her what a mistake I was making by letting her leave.

In my too-young and too stubborn mind, there was no reason to chase after her, though. I was all she had back then. I thought she needed me. That she wouldn't be able to survive on her own.

I was even angry at her for the dramatic exit. For the things she'd said and the way she claimed I hurt her. In my eyes, I had done nothing wrong.

I worked hard. I provided a home for us. I put food on the table and clothing on our backs.

She had everything she could have ever wanted. And I told her as much.

She said I didn't understand. She said lots of things that day. And I listened. I listened to her cry and beg and tell me that a home and food and clothing weren't what was important to her.

Eventually, I watched her shoulders fall in defeat when the tears and pleas made no difference. Because she was right; I didn't understand.

I didn't see.

With my arms crossed over my chest, I watched her pack a bag. I told her she was being ridiculous. I even scoffed at her when she said 'I can't do this anymore, I love you, but I love me more.'

I laughed when I heard her car start in the driveway. I thought she was bluffing. I thought she'd be back by morning.

I was sure of it.

Every morning after that day, I was sure. That was the day she'd be back. She would apologize, and everything would be fine again. We would go back to the way things had been before.

She just needed time. Women were moody.

One day turned into two, though. And two days turned into a week. A week turned into three and then it had been a month.

I didn't call her once.

As far as I was concerned, it was her who had done me wrong, not the other way around.

I lived those days, weeks and eventually, months after she left inside a bubble of denial I'd created all on my own. It was more intricate than any building I had ever designed, polluted in layer after layer of untruths about who I had become and what I'd actually done simply by doing nothing at all.

I'd let the one and only thing that had always been good in my life slip through my fingers, and I wasn't sure there was any way to get her back.