Because you love me on the hard days.
Even when I cannot love myself.
And if our hard days can be this good,
Then our good days
are going to be epic.”
I smile into the camera. “It is, huh? Epic, I mean. This thing with us. I think so anyway. Okay. I better cut this off so it’s not too long. Love you, Miles. Bye!”
I wave and stop recording.
After watching it once to be sure my voice is clear, I send it to Miles, realizing just how late it is. Miles should’ve gotten home a couple of hours ago, so why didn’t he call me?
I watch the screen, the tiny bubble with his profile picture floating down to show he’s opened the message. My stomach tightens with unexpected nerves. He’s listening. Right now, my boyfriend is listening to my poem!
Maybe I should’ve done this live, but this is better, isn’t it? A recording? Miles seems like he’d prefer that, to be able to listen to it over and over again. He’s kind of sentimental that way.
Miles is usually pretty animated and expressive in his commentary, so I get anxious for a reply. But after five minutes, nothing comes.
I message him.
Me:You there?
The message never changes to read.
After ten minutes, the little light by his name goes gray, saying he’s no longer active.
I frown. What was that about?
I message him again.
Me:Miles?
No answer.
I call him.
It rings… and rings, and my stomach sinks like he’s not going to answer. But then he does, and my heart cracks wide open. I gasp at the sight of him, hair a mess and tears rolling down his face. His glasses aren’t anywhere to be seen.
“Miles? Baby, what’s wrong?”
I know without asking the tears are not because of my poem. This is deeper. Guttural.
Did something happen with a patient? He hasn’t told me about anyone recently, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t get attached. Miles always cares about his patients.
“Sorry. I’m just… Fuck. Sorry.”
Something twists in me, making me sit up.Is it me?Is Miles breaking up with me? Because I’ve been distant? Oh, God no. I can’t… I should’ve tried harder. Made myself talk!
“Miles,” I say. “Please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
“I—I don’t know if I can do this.” It comes out in a rush, like he’d forced himself to say it.
I can’t breathe. “What do you mean? You can’t do what?”
Please don’t say us. Please don’t say we’re over!
