Chapter 4: Something I can never have
"I should go
Before my will gets any weaker
And my eyes begin to linger
Longer than they should"
He tried to ignore her afterwards.
He really tried.
He was good at that.
He was a master of shutting out the world.
So she would not be a problem.
At least that was what he told himself.
But she kept nagging at him, at his sense of peace, just by being near him every day.
They didn't talk about that night in the bar.
In a way they were similar: they ignored it.
But he found himself searching her eyes for something, anything different when they spoke to each other afterwards.
He feared naming that thing.
So he chalked it up to something else: attraction.
He was attracted to her.
Nothing else.
And attraction he could deal with.
He knew how to get that out of his system.
So when an old flame from years ago called him one week later he took her out and then to his bed.
It was cruel.
He knew that.
But he needed to remove every trace of another.
And he was feeling desperate.
So he when he entered her that night he prayed for a peace that his soul longed for.
But when he reached climax it was another women's name that escaped from his lips.
He tried to ignore it.
They both did.
But when he woke, alone, the next morning, the truth was screaming in his ears.
So he did what he was a master of.
He shut it out.
He ignored it.
Denied it ever existed.
So he went about his day like it never had happened.
Like he hadn't spoken her name.
But he knew he was lying to himself.
She had affected him.
She had managed to work her way inside, somehow.
Maybe it happened that night, in that bar.
Maybe it happened long before.
He didn't know.
He didn't care.
It was a matter of survival after all.
So he lied.
He lied to himself for days, for weeks.
He shut her out.
But his eyes kept drifting towards her and when she was standing close to him it felt like every cell in his whole body was screaming out to touch her.
Her presence at the office was slowly but surely making his world tilt on its axis.
So when he heard about her date two weeks after their encounter at the bar he felt relieved.
Glad even.
At least that was what he told himself.
They didn't belong together.
What he had felt was nothing.
Just a temporarily thing.
It had just been a single, fleeting moment.
Nothing else.
But still, he found himself that night, working on his boat, thinking about her.
About the feel of her hand in his.
About the way she smiled.
About her scent that still seemed to linger around him.
He took a drink to erase it.
Then another.
He wasn't much of a drinker.
But now he needed it.
To remove every trace of that feeling inside of him that still screamed out for her.
By the morning he was so sure that he had won.
But when she entered the elevator that morning and smiled that smile that always seemed to wreak havoc on his heart, he knew that he had lost.
Her skin seemed to glow in that special way that whispered of a night spend in the arms of a lover and her eyes sparked when their eyes met.
He knew then.
He pictured her with him.
That nameless, faceless man that had put the spark in her eyes and the glow to her skin.
And he tried so hard to be happy for her.
But all he could feel as he stood there beside her, as the elevator began its climb upwards was the way his heart hurt.
It actually hurt.
But he pushed it down, far down.
As he always did when it came to things like that.
Their eyes met.
He searched her eyes for something, anything but found nothing.
So he did what was expected of him.
"I'm glad you're feeling better."
Her eyes shone in that moment.
And he knew that he couldn't let her go no matter how hard he tried.
They stood for a long moment like that.
Searching for something.
A sign.
But they were both scared of feeling, of words left unsaid.
So they remained silent until the elevator reached its destination.
He smiled at her.
Wanting to reassure her in some way that he was happy for her.
Even though his heart was breaking.
But he knew as he walked away from her that he would be okay.
He was a master after all.
A master of shutting his eyes to one simple truth: that he had fallen and fallen hard.