I’ve written this in response to today’s Red Dress Club prompt: Write about a fight. I’m not happy with it, but I know that if I wait around til I’m 100% pleased it’ll never be ready. The important thing is to throw my hat in the ring again, so to speak, since it’s been so long. Any concrit is extremely welcome!
Another email. From him.
My heartbeat quickened against my will. After all, we were just friends.
Why the sudden flush in my cheeks, then? The goofy grin which spread across my face as soon as I saw his name in my inbox? Why did the sight of his name make my day the way it did? And why did its absence disappointment me so?
I had known for some time that he wanted more. More than just emails, though we did go back and forth several times a day. More than just sharing ourselves on a computer screen.
And once again, he had managed to add a reminder that he was always available at night for a conversation over the phone. I tried to pretend that I didn’t see his meaning.
Why? Why don’t you want to talk to him over the phone? What’s the difference?
I can think about what I’m saying via email. I can read, reread, edit. I can be the best me.
The poor guy is trying so hard. Why can’t you give him a shot?
I don’t know. Everything’s getting complicated. Everything’s changing.
What’s so great about your life now? Take a chance.
I can’t. It’s too hard. I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s too new.
You’re comfortable with being miserable and alone. Because it’s all you’ve ever known.
I came up with every excuse in the book as to why I was unavailable. Sometimes I was genuinely busy. The rest of the time I made myself busy.
I don’t want this!
Yes you do. This is exactly what you’ve always wanted.
I hate you!
Which is why you won’t let yourself be happy.
As the war waged on, a war he knew nothing about, I held him at arm’s length. He stuck around. Sharing himself with me every day, showing interest in me, wanting to get to know me better. Bless his heart.
I’ve never been a daredevil. I’ve always been afraid of hurting.
I know. I know you. I am you.
I don’t know what will come next.
Let go. Just let go.
He won’t hurt you.
I know that, I’ve always known that.
What’s the problem?
It doesn’t seem right! There’s no struggle, there’s no chase. He’s just…there. It’s too simple, too easy. He’s making it too easy!
There’s nothing wrong with that.
No one has ever just liked me before! For me! I’ve always had to work and work.
And see where all that work got you so far? Nowhere!
It doesn’t make sense.
That’s what makes it right.
It took a martini happy hour to give me the courage to do what was inevitable from the first. I had only wasted time letting my heart and my brain fight it out the way I’d been. My heart had won.
I’m so tired of this. It doesn’t make sense anymore.
So I put down my sword and picked up my cell. I typed and sent a text.
“You know something? I think I really like you.”