I finish eating dinner and help mom clean up while dad relaxes in front of his favorite show. She asks about my day. The talk is casual, but I'm ready to escape to my room. I don't hear her. I can't pay attention. My answers are short, disconnected. She asks why. I tell her I'm tired.
I only hear Edward over and over again.
I would've asked you in a heartbeat.
They're punishing. I despise yet adore those words and behind the confines of my door I allow the confusion to fall. Tears of joy. Tears of torture. There is a buzz along my skin. My thoughts ache. Him, me, our star-crossed paths. We will never be. It's not fair for him to say those things. Pick, pick, pick at wounds, moving treacherous and deep.
I undress and move under covers, finding the air more frigid with each passing moment. I no longer know what to do. Why would he say those things? I wonder if he knows my secret. Truly understands the way I feel. What if he does? I can't face him if he knows. I turn off my lamp, discerning my room from the blanket of darkness. I think about tomorrow and my classes while tears wet my cheeks, ears and pillow. Between the streams I know my answer. I simply won't go tomorrow. I won't go until I can figure out how to deal with this.
I can afford one day.