Intentar

"It's the possibility that keeps me going, not the guarantee."
― The Notebook

"Why?" I choked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I was unprepared and my nerves got the better of me so I slammed the door in her face. Her foot wedged between the gap just in time to stop it. I heard her hold back a whine. Realizing she was wearing sandals, and I'd used my good arm, I pulled the door back and barked at her, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

She winced. I had this panicky urge to get her some ice. But stubborn as I was, I stopped myself. That didn't stop her from noticing the millisecond I looked worried. She smiled, all dainty and forgiving. I scowled.

"Move," I growled.

"Kind, as always." she said it like we were okay. We were not okay, I was not fucking okay with her being here. I couldn't even comprehend. "Can I come in?" she asked casually, right after I'd given her foot a purpling bruise and an indirect threat.

"Can you come in?" I sniggered, "how about no." and tried shoving her out, as gently as my temper allowed me. She held the side of the door and didn't budge. This was getting beyond ridiculous.

"I'm sure your neighbours would be less likely to stick their noses out if you just let me in, and we can talk. Civilly. No drama. I promise."

"There's nothing to talk about, I don't know you, you don't know me. Capish?"

She didn't care. I had to try harder, really hit a spot, and god knows I was good at that. She held her breath, anticipating it.

"Are you a fucking idiot? Did I stutter that day you I found out you were happily screwing your husband while simultaneously trying to screw me and I don't even want to know who else, and you had the audacity to lie to my good friend who, by the way, thinks I'm a hopeless drug, alcohol and sex addict now, because that's what I've become since your unexplained absence which I don't give two shits about, but don't get me wrong I'm not like this because of you, you're not that important," and I breathed out a little, realizing this was the most I'd ever said in a span of thirty seconds in a long, long time. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten, it's not something you forgive and forget very easily, but I guess common sense was never your forte."

She cringed ever so slightly, but that was about it. No matter how much venom I'd forced into my words her foot still wasn't budging.

"No, you said it very clearly," she simply said. I noticed the resolve in her voice, like this whole ordeal was planned and predicted to the way she wanted, and no matter how much I wanted to avoid seeing or talking to her right now, she would have her way. It only made me more frustrated. I tried staring her down and pushing the door on her again, but she was planted in her spot.

"Why?" I asked again, aware that I was growing desperate. "Why are you so persistent? Do you want me to hate you, is that it?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I wonder why all the time," there was a hint of bitterness in the way she said that, and I wondered if she was here with an intention to piss me off.

"It would be so much easier if you hated me," she murmured, "because then you'd think of me as much as I thought about you."

Something stirred inside of me and I frown at what she'd said. I couldn't peel my eyes away from her eyes that were full of tears on the verge of spilling. I thought I was okay with seeing her this way, isn't that what I wanted? Hadn't I done this before? But then I remembered I ran away that night, outside the bar, after smacking her with the asshole I had in me I just upped and left in a hurry. And even the day after, I'd shut the door on her before she could react. I never saw her cry, I'd never stayed long enough to see her cry, because I was afraid of seeing the damage I could inflict on a person I cared about.

I was in a sense, panicking.

"Get inside," I ordered, pulling her out of my neighbours' sights and locking the door. But that didn't mean I was ready to talk about deep and meaningful feelings, about why she was gone for six months, and about where we would go from here, so I stalled by going into the kitchen and making us coffee. I didn't offer her a seat, so for the most part she was just standing there, watching my back, until she decided it was okay to sit at the dining table I barely used. I tried not to think about the overflowing ashtray on the counter, or the three empty bottles I hadn't thrown away, or the half smoked joint that Hange left. She didn't dare to mention it either. We both knew I was taking my time, and she was going to wait for as long as it took.

Coffee could only stall for so long, and anymore civilities outside of offering beverages were beyond my character. When I reached for the sugar cubes, I realized I had no idea how she liked her coffee. She was always the one making mine (back then). I hesitated before asking, "How do you take it?"

"One sugar." I paused, noting the fact we liked it the same way. And then I remembered the first time she made my coffee she made a comment about how it was a reflection of who we were. I wasn't sure if this was what she intended, or that she simply has always liked her coffee the way I liked mine. Then there was the possibility I was thinking too much.

I stirred for the both of us and brought it to the table. She thanked me and I sat across her, leaning back on my chair to look elsewhere. The silence went on for a few seconds, and it was interrupted by the sound of her sipping. I still didn't look her way.

"I won't take long," she said, and set her mug down. But I knew that was a lie, things like this didn't solve itself after one talk. It took nights and nights of re-evaluating and laying out the choices you had. It was apparent to me that I wasn't ready to decide how I wanted her to return into my life, or whether I even wanted her to return. She was never going to leave my mind, I'd come to that conclusion at least, and I wasn't going to tell her that.

Petra intertwined her fingers together, and took a deep, preparatory breath. "I'll start with why I'm here, today, after six months of absence. I left the country to run away from my problems, and I came back to clear things up, with everyone, starting from you," she paused to let me take that in. I let it slide over my thoughts and pretended I was not one bit curious. "My husband and I were separated when I first met you, I caught him cheating on me the first day I arrived. I'd gone out for a second, and came home too early apparently. I won't go into details." I wasn't sure how to react to that, so I said nothing. She continued like it was just a fact she'd accepted long ago. "I was pretty angry, threw a few chairs and left in tears. Then I stayed in a motel for the night only to realize with the amount of money I had I was only going to last a month at most. My friends here were his friends, they all lived inconveniently far, my dad would have a heart attack, and all my belongings had been moved to the apartment. Plus the only reason I was even allowed to stay was because we were married. I was also jobless at the time. I was trapped, Levi. That's not an excuse, it was a fact and I didn't know how to handle it. So I went back, and pretended like he had another chance. It's not like I'm blaming him for everything, Noel he...he's always been good to me. But the truth was," she fidgeted in her chair, unsure if she should say her next words. It got me tense somehow. "I was only with him to fill that hole in my life that never seemed to close up no matter how great things were, or how desperately I tried to be happy, and the moment he cheated on me I saw that as the perfect opportunity to leave him without feeling guilty. Basically I was glad it happened."

My eyes flicked to hers immediately. I was caught in her story and she finally had my full attention. She spoke of a chasm in her perfect life, much like my own. If her story was true, we were essentially – the same. I ignored the fact she said admitted her marriage was a sham, to be honest I didn't want to know or hear anything about it.

She continued, "Then there was you. Every moment was rejuvenating the person I truly was. For the first time in my life I felt real attraction and real passion. I thought I could conquer the world at some point, as long as you were in my life, and that still stands. And although I felt things I had never felt before with you, and although I wanted you to myself, there was one thing I could never do and to this day I still don't know why," and with a look of exasperation she asked no one in particular, "why could I never tell you the truth?"

"What was stopping me?" she was losing her voice in short chokes, and I had no idea what to do. "Why does is feel like the universe wants me two countries and an ocean away from you? All this time I've tried, I've really fucking tried so hard to forget about you and fix my life back to the way it was, but it just makes me more miserable." The first two tears were a warning, and she was biting her lip to force them back.

"Where did you go?" I finally asked, hoping my input would help stop the crying somehow.

"To live with my dad. He knows everything."

"And your husband?"

"I signed divorce papers and left it with him before packing up and leaving," there was hesitance. She added, "He still won't sign them, but I promise you we're over."

I took note of that, but gave her a look that meant she should take my lack of comment as a sign of displeasure. And it wasn't that I didn't believe her, but more like the thought of a married woman and marriage itself irked me.

"So what exactly do you want from me?" I was asking that question to myself at the same time, because not even I knew what I wanted from her. We could sit here and talk about things, solve everything and then go through the possibility of dating again. But I wasn't sure if I wanted that. I wasn't sure if I wanted to feel what I'd felt in the past. Getting hurt got me into this fucked up already, so what if the future had something worse coming for me. What if she was hurt and I blamed myself. The world wasn't a perfect place, and relationships were unpredictable. Maybe we were going through the young and stupid stage a little later than others. Was it worth trying one last time?

I could tell by the look on her face, that she was thinking the same thing. She hadn't thought passed the speech she was giving me, or what would happen if I decided to forgive her.

"Do you want us to date after I say everything is okay? Should we try again and pretend none of this ever happened? Am I supposed to become your boyfriend and take you as my girlfriend?"

She shook her head. "I don't expect anything like that. Friends is good enough, hell – I'll even settle with acquaintances."

"You know that's impossible."

"Can you tell me what's okay then?"

"It's not something you can figure out in the spur of a moment. I still don't know what to think of this – you – fucking turning up at my door while I'm still hungover. You've got me stumped to be honest, I thought I was just going to kick you out and double lock my door. That's as far as I've predicted."

And I don't know what made me do it, but I reached over and wiped another falling tear away from under her eye with my thumb. I guess I was caught in the moment, and now I was stuck.

I was surprised with what I said next, "Did you think of me often?"

She wrapped her fingers around my wrist so that it stayed there. I somehow ended up spreading my hand along her jaw and stroking her cheek. She relaxed but that didn't stop the tears.

"Every. Single. Day."

I sighed. Half relieved, half tired. All she had to do was tell me she was a lost cause like I was. Both void of something important, which was each other. Unable to end things, unable to live a normal life without a mind full of each other. Then I'd listen to her, and believe her, and hate myself even more for being so full of pride. I held her hands, warm and clammy from the nerves I'd put her through this past hour, and said the only two words I could think of in the most monotonous yet uncharacteristic manner. I was already holding back.

"Me too."

It took her a moment to register what I'd just said, and even I myself felt embarrassed. And then with a stunned expression, she blinked a few times, and the next thing I knew she was out of her chair and throwing her arms around me.

"About fucking time you asshole."

I ruffled her hair, "Yeah. Fuck you too."

I wanted to get a chapter out by valentine's but it just didn't happen oops. Mine was like a Sunday, I hope you guys had a better one.