I'm sorry. Over and over again those words reverberated inside the walls of my head. The first and only two words I had heard from you in over two years. After uttering them, you quickly hung up and the only sound present to me was that of the dial tone. I stood frozen, sitting up in my bed, awed by the phone call that just took place. You spoke.
A thousand thoughts began to run through my head at once. Your words were ambiguous, and there were millions of meanings that they could have held. Were you sorry for the innumerable amount of phone calls that had taken place over the past few years? Were you sorry for the way that the relationship had ended? Or were you sorry that the relationship had ended at all? One thing was for certain; you weren't giving me much to work with.
I had thought that everything would be so cut and clear once communication had picked up between us. That was far from the case. Instead, I was more confused. Where did I go from here? I knew that the ball was now in my court. You wouldn't be calling again out of fear that you might embarrass yourself. If I didn't respond to this, you would give up hope of there being an us ever again. You'd take it as rejection.
I looked over to my right, at her sleeping form. Her chest rose and fell gently. She really was the picture of beauty. We never had a problem, not once in our relationship. Sure, there were little tiffs here and there, after all, nobodies perfect. But nothing serious that would ever make us doubt this relationship. Could I really just throw that all away because of your two worded apology?
If I left her and came running back to you, that would be a huge risk. Considering how things went the first time, there was nothing to ensure me that we'd last. We could simply just get back into the same circle of verbal attacks, slamming doors and relationship hiatuses. I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle that, nor would I be able to handle you having insecurities about our relationship again. Then again, I could be talking this all wrong. What if you didn't want me back? What if all you were seeking was closure? Then I'd be running the risk of having my heart handed back to me in a million pieces.
I was safe where I was. I was in a comfortable relationship. Comfortable. I silently pondered over this. Comfortable. Yes, this was the word I would use to describe my current relationship. So what if comfortable brought along a connotation of boring. I'm still exhausted from all the "excitement" that I had gone through during our relationship. Okay, maybe there weren't the same sparks that I had with you, but there was a mutual attraction and deep feelings of... care. Not love. Care.
I sighed heavily unsure of what I was trying to convince myself. I loved you. From the moment I met you, I knew that you were the only one who would truly understand me, despite our age difference. We were two halves of the same person, you and I. Perhaps our similarities are why we butted heads so often. God knows we are two of the most stubborn people in the world. It's one of the things I loved most about you. She couldn't compare to you, both my head and my heart knew this. It wasn't her that was holding me back, it was me.
Could I let this pass without trying to reconcile with you? If I did, would I be kicking myself years down the road? I cradled my head in my hands, desperately trying to clear out the jumbled mess inside as she began to stir beside me. She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Sensing the difference in the atmosphere, she turned her face towards me, a concerned look in her eyes. Her hand found its way to my back, and she began to rub gently. "What's wrong?"
I sighed once again and turned to meet her gaze. Her feelings for me were obvious, and it was in that moment that I knew what I had to do. I reached over and tucked a strand of her soft blond hair behind her ear. "Baby," I began, trying to think of how to phrase my next few words. "We need to talk."