Ian
Iknock on the door with no response. The lights are out but I can’t imagine she’s sleeping, not after what just happened.
I continue knocking, calling her. Surely she can hear me, I’m waking up the dead here. In fact, some other lights have gone on – one of the neighbours could be calling the police.
How the fuck could I have let her leave my apartment? I should have held her, spoken to her, tried to explain.
I can’t be locked out here imagining the worst. I can’t let something happen.
Filled with guilt and anxiety, I decide to break the door down. It gives way easily with a few shoulders to the wood.
I go into the apartment and the smell of the closed space forces me to cover my nose and my mouth with my arms.
I move in the darkness towards her room and I find her on the bed, soaking wet, wrapped up to her waist in a towel.
I run to her, I shake her, I call her, I pick her up and take her to the bathroom. I turn on the shower with one hand, holding her up in the other, then I let the water run and I get in with her, completely dressed. The water helps her come to her senses slightly, but she’s still semi-conscious.
I try to stand her on her feet, but she can’t. So, I wrap an arm around her waist and use the other one to caress her face, her hair, her shoulders. I try to talk to her, make her understand that I’m here and that she shouldn’t worry about anything. That it’ll all be okay and I won’t let anything happen.
When her body gets some of its heat back, I turn off the water, I lift her again and take her out of the shower. I find a towel hung on a hook and cover her the best I can, bringing her through to the bedroom.
The bed is too wet, so I go to the living room. I set her down, delicately covering her with a throw and take off my sopping wet clothes.
Then, I sit next to her, I hold her and cradle her like a baby. I cover her with my body, I speak to her, I calm her and give all of my warmth to her, hoping to let her know that I am here, for fuck’s sake – I always have been, and if I hadn’t been a coward, I could’ve taken this leap of faith.
For her, I would have. I would have fought my fear of being abandoned with my bare hands, torn down all of my insecurities, all the negative thoughts, and I would have made the leap.
Into the emptiness. Holding her hand.
I kiss her forehead and close my eyes, cursing myself for being a bastard, for taking advantage of a woman who just needed a safe haven, to be protected and loved.
And I’m here for exactly that, to do what I should have done from the beginning, instead of hiding, lying, refusing her and letting her think that I could never love her.
