The day so far was uneventful. Like many of my days of late. I had a date and only the approaching hour served as motivation to dress before she arrived. Even that didn't take long, a quick change of tops and footwear, a splash of perfume, and I was ready.
Oh the perfume... how my hand paused as I reached across my dresser. One bottle calls me, but I pass by it. No, I avoid it. Not because I don't like it, its my favorite, but it was intended for someone else; it may go to waste, but no matter. I can rarely bring myself to touch it, even when I dust and rearrange my room.
Looking at the clock, I still have time to kill, so I log onto my email. Its full and empty at the same time. Notes from bill payment services, reminders of bills to come, wishful shopping advertisements with just a few messages I bother to open. Sighing, thinking this might be a waste too, being the third time today I looked at it.
At the sound of the doorbell, I close the lid to my laptop, glance around the room to see everything picked up, before going to the mirror to check my makeup. Seemingly just right, I find myself rushing to the door wondering if you are early or if I hadn't noticed the time go by.
Funny how you can go from having all the time in the world to letting it all slip away.
For some reason, I don't open the door; instead something makes me use the spyglass. At first I thought it was to sneak a look but perhaps it was some second-sense, a foreboding, drawing my eye to the peephole rather than greet my expected visitor with a smile and hello.
Frozen now, blinking. Sucking in a large lungful of air. I shake my head, close my eyes, rub them. Then trembling, I look again.
My brain shouts, two years – almost to the day! Then I think and correct myself, two years to the day. The day we last spoke. A day I was so happy, complete.
But the new day wasn't as bright. And a week later, some doubt returned.
Shaking my head again, I press my eye and stare. Could it just be my imagination? A trick of the light, or the mind, an anniversary reminder of what was...
I move away from the door, mind working. What shall I say? What will YOU say?
Knees weak, I sit on a chair. My eyes on the door, jumping when the doorbell rings again.
Where would I start? Some things must never be said, or told. I swallowed them long ago.
I think now of what has changed with me. Wondering if I've really changed at all, and have you.
Will you like my current girlfriend? I thought it was her I was rushing to meet. I'm sure you'd like her. She's pretty and sweet and kind, funny. We met through a common friend; you know her, they work together. They were lovers but it didn't last, their needs were not the same.
Blushing now, knowing that you will ask and I will shake my head no. She's not like that, not like you. For a long time I thought I wanted someone like you, but found I didn't. Or not for long. Passing fancies that paled almost as soon as it began. Sometimes losing interest in the middle of a conversation, or during an embrace; at the very least, the following day.
Only you could make me feel THAT way. The others could only disappoint, and I can't give of myself when I end up regretting or despising that they couldn't reach me like you. So I went in another direction, and returning in another.
There were men too. Still are. And other women.
But mostly, I worked at living. And the days passed.
Like this day was trudging along the minutes, until that bell rang.
Some days, I didn't think of you. But you were never far from my thoughts. Little things would bring a rush of memory, or I would find myself thinking in terms of what you might say or do in a situation. And I checked my email, always checking my email.
And now you are here.
Standing, I step to the door. You didn't ring the bell again, and I'm not sure how long I sat thinking. This time I don't bend to spy, my hand finds the knob, and I open it.
As you knew I would. I knew it too.