And the award goes to Dreamer for lyf for the Fastest Reviewer Ever!
Thanks, Dreamer, its really, really appreciated.
And, as always, endless thanks to Liz.
I was looking right into those eyes.
Those eyes that had comforted and tortured me; soothed and worried me; assured me and questioned me. Eyes that had smiled at me, laughed with me, cried with me, lusted for me. Eyes that I wanted to never see again; eyes that I prayed to see every morning that I woke up.
"Angel?" He was smiling now.
I smiled, too.
"What are you doing here, Angel?"
I didn't know what to say. I could never tell him the truth, it'd be humiliating. I had no idea what to say, and it must have showed because his face changed from pleasantly surprised to worried.
"I thought you were living with Tim?"
"I was."
"What happened?"
"Tim couldn't afford to take me on anymore."
He raised an eyebrow at me; "You're a good liar, Angel. But you're not good enough."
"So I've heard."
"How long has this been going on?"
"Just last night. You just got home?"
"Yeah, decided to surprised everyone; they're not expecting my train to come in until tonight. And since I have about eleven hours before anyone's even home, how about breakfast?"
I knew I shouldn't have, but this is the first thing that's felt right in four months.
I knew now that he never believed what I told him. He knew he wasn't just a summer fling; I could tell by the way he looked at me; talked to me.
We hadn't spoken in months and yet I felt as though nothing had changed. I felt as though we would walk outside and it'd be a hot July day.
He told me about school, his classes, his roommate, and how much he missed home. I knew that growing up he had always wanted to leave Tulsa, and now that he had he realized how much home meant to him.
"I didn't think I'd miss everyone that much. I missed always having someone to hang out with; someone always home if I was bored. I didn't even realize I had it until it wasn't there."
"That's always the way it is." He smiled at me. He looked happy; happy with his life at school but also happy to be home.
"I knew I'd miss you, though."
Please don't start. I can't hold back anymore.
"I missed you, too."
He looked at me like he wanted to ask again, like he wanted to beg me until I divulged; shake me until the information was forced out of me.
"Angel, I'm not gonna ask. But just so you know, I will never stop waiting for you to tell me. I know you love me, no matter how much you say you don't and never did. I missed you, Angel, more than I missed anyone else and I will never give up on us. I can't love anyone like I love you, so I'm not going to try. Whatever it is, Angel, we can deal with it. And I can't understand why you're trying to keep this all to yourself. There's nothing you could tell me that I wouldn't forgive; nothing that I wouldn't still love you for. You and I can make it through anything, and I will never stop believing that."
I hated him. I hated how he could make me feel like I was exploding on the inside, being ripped apart. I hated seeing the pain in his eyes, the way he looked so desperate for just a small piece of information.
He grabbed my hands, and I knew I was crying now. "Please, Angel, please."
I couldn't look him the eyes. Those damn eyes would force it out of me.
"We should get out of here," I said. "We've been here three hours, the owner's gonna start to give us dirty looks."
We walked to his house, silent. It wasn't a awkward silence, though, it was calm, serene. He wanted to surprise his brothers tonight, so we stayed away from where they worked and didn't run into anyone.
I wasn't going to go in. I wanted to run and save those words from slipping from my mouth. I was going to say good bye and find Tim and beg him to let me come back to his apartment.
I was determined.
Until he took my hand and led me inside.
His house was always clean; neat and tidy. You'd never guess there wasn't a mother there cleaning up after three young men.
This house brought back too many memories. The kitchen where we had ice tea and sandwiches everyday without fail; the couch where he would tickle me until I begged him to stop; the wall next to the bathroom where he had taken me when we couldn't make it to the bedroom.
"I missed this house." I thought out loud.
He smiled. "Me too."
He was leaning against the back of the couch, staring at me. "Come here, Angel." He said, putting his hand out to me.
I felt like I was at a crossroad.
This would be one of the most defining points of my life. Where I would choose which life I would lead. A turning point, where I could marry the man I loved and crush his dreams at the same time, or lose him forever and know he had met his dream.
I would look back on this moment decades from now and remember that feeling; a rush of excitement and an attack of fear. I would think about how I had made that decision. How I could possibly choose; how I could embrace that excitement or overcome that fear. I couldn't do both. One or the other.
If I took his hand, I knew we'd be together forever. But would we be happy? Would he be happy knowing that he could have been successful? Or would he be happy with his wife, children, and useless job? Would be happy having a wife who loved him? Or would he hate her because she was the reason he couldn't live his dreams?
If I left, I'd never see him again. He'd never see me again the way he does now. Would he forget? Would I be a memorable first love that he occasionally thought about during nostalgic moments? Would I be a memory that he smiled at whenever the thought came to him? Would he move on, marry someone else? Would he be happy? He would never know, never know how much I loved him, how much I gave up for him.
And, for the first time, I thought about the baby. How would the baby feel if I forced his father to give up his dream? How would my child feel if his father was miserable because of what I did?
But what would the baby think if I had never even told his father that he existed? How would he feel knowing that I never even gave his father a chance to be a dad? How would he feel knowing that he could have grown up in a home where his parents loved him, but instead his mother made him grow up as a bastard child of the town whore?
I could leave Tulsa. Run away to some town miles away where no one knows me, where I wasn't the town whore. I could claim that my husband had been killed in Vietnam, that I was just the poor widow whose husband died when she was pregnant. I could waitress, make a life for me and my baby.
I love Ponyboy. I love him too much to ruin his dreams.
But do I love him if I don't give him a chance to know his own child?
If I took his hand, he would know what I'd been hiding. In his arms, I had no restraint. We'd be alone, lying his bed, making up for lost time. And he knew my body too well to not notice such a difference.
I would make a decision now that would change my life from here on in.
I could take his hand, and live a secure life with a husband who settled for less than he deserved.
Or I could leave, and know that he was as happy as I could make him.
I loved him too much to choose either way.
