You know. You have to.
It's why you've been so quiet. What I would give for you to make just one quip about my clothes, my hair, the way Will and I have always been closer than most people usually are. What I would give for anything to spark your interest in me again, to hear my name sounding from your voice once more. Go through my past, Karen, pick one of the many suitors who weren't exactly of the highest quality. Do something. Talk to me.
You've been so silent; I think you can see it in my eyes. I was never good at hiding things, at keeping secrets, even if they are my own. You can see right through me, can't you? You're just trying to process everything you've learned from my looks, my body language, my sudden change in demeanor. It's taking time, and I don't know how much more of this I can take.
Oh, god, you are so beautiful. Even now, the way your fingertips grace the pages of your copy of Vogue, the sigh you let out, they're flawless. I wish you would look at me. All I want to do is see your eyes, your smile. You wouldn't even have to talk to me, if I could just get you to look at me. I've been tempted to give you meaningless tasks to do that never really need to be done, just to have some form of a conversation with you. I don't think you realize how much this silence is killing me. I know you don't realize it. You can't see me from the inside.
I know, Karen. I know that things aren't so great with Stan. You'll never think enough of me to confide in me about it, I can see that now, but while my eyes let you know everything going on with me, your eyes in turn go against you, run to tell me. I know about your heartache. I know that you two aren't talking, that you spend most of your nights alone. I know that while you don't want to be alone, you don't want to be with him. But the fear of being alone outweighs the unhappiness. I wish you'd let me be the one to make sure you never spend another night by yourself again. I wish I were the one that could make you happy.
Maybe I am. Maybe you just haven't figured it out yet.
Maybe you have, and you're scared to make the first move.
I know that's where I'm coming from.
There are some times I really think you feel the same way. The look in your eyes is a little bit softer, or the sound of your voice when you say my name is a little bit sweeter. And I think for a moment that everything that I want to be there is there, and you've just been waiting for me to do something about it. When we finally lock eyes, I'll look at you and give you a smile from the heart, letting you know that I have what you're looking for. But that only makes the look in your eyes that you once had gone away, and you ask me what the problem is. Or, I'll start to walk over to you, just wanting to hold your hand, take you in my arms, because I know that this is what we both want. But you'll never look up, you'll never feel my presence in the room like I feel yours every time you walk into the office. I'll stop in my tracks and turn the other way while you're none the wiser.
I haven't smiled for you in so long. Do you miss that? Do you even care?
What would you do if I ever told you? Would you give me a smile, light up and say that it's always been me? Would it be the way I've always pictured that moment, with you taking me in your arms and brushing your lips against mine, making the wait worth everything? Or would you laugh in my face, and shrug me off? Would it be so ridiculous for me to say I love you?
Would it be so bad?
This is why I've never said anything to you about all of this: if I don't have you, I don't have anything left. Even if you're in my life as you are now, giving me criticism and trying to give off the air that you're better than me, it would be so much better than never having you around, never hearing your voice again, never seeing you smile or your eyes light up whenever we're talking about something you love. It would kill me to never see your face again. And I can't take any chances with this. I can't risk everything by following my heart, because if I do, it will most likely end with you running. It's happened before, so many times, and that's all I have to base my decisions on. It's pitiful, laughable, I know, but what else am I supposed to do?
Right now, you look up from your magazine and we lock eyes once again. You still don't speak, and I'm not about to be the one who breaks the silence. But I can't escape you. You say nothing, do nothing but watch me, look at me, something I wanted more than anything. I just can't take it. I leave for the swatch room, a place you have never dared to enter, a place where I know I am safe from you. God, that sounds horrible, but at this point, I don't know what else to say. Find a place in between the fabric to hide.
I try to keep it in, but a tear still manages to free itself, and soon, the others are following in a steady stream, and they control me. My back turned to the doorway, I hear your footsteps, but I can't tell whether you're walking out of the building; the only thing I can clearly distinguish is the sound of me catching my breath. When I calm down, I can no longer hear your footsteps. You must have walked out the door.
But you couldn't have. I can feel your presence.
I turn around to find you standing in front of me, blurred a bit from my wet eyes. I can make out a smile, maybe out of pity, maybe genuine, I never could tell with you. But then I feel your hand gracing my cheek. And then the kiss…
So soft, so delicate, for a second I think that this is nothing but a dream. But I can feel you, and I know this is real. All those days, second-guessing myself. I can forget them now. I am with you.
You pull away and start to leave. I don't want you to leave. You take a step backwards, another, another, until you are at the doorway between the office and the swatch room. I grab your hand, try to speak, but can only utter a whisper.
"Please…don't go."
"Shhh…" You put your finger to my lips and give me a smile. I love it when you smile. I start to follow you as you leave, but I know that this will probably be for the best. I had my moment. I got more than I could ever ask for. I should leave it at that.
But then I notice a little strip of paper, something you must have torn from the bottom half of a fax. For a moment, I trace your writing without even taking in what you've written. Just to know that you thought of me…
Finally I am able to focus on the note. Simple, four words, but it means so much. We will never spend another night alone, Karen, I am sure of it. And I know you can see that too. I can see it in those words.
Four simple words.
Smile, I love you.
