the truth about her

I'd almost forgotten her. The sting of her stealing his heart and discarding it so easily had begun to diminish. She had him so completely and left him aching. He gave her his entire self in the form of absolute truth, a thing I could never have with him because we were never friends first. And then she said a firm no to his advances and I was roused back into life from the dead.

That we live on a street that is her name seems to me no small coincidence. The apartment has its charms and I try to forget that part. Anyway, he chose it and it is something I will never be able to understand, but I accept it.

That they worked together in such closeness drove me insane, but I managed to keep that turmoil deep inside my brain.

And then, one day he left and it was done. There was no mention of her. She was not his coworker. She was just a name. She was just a memory.

And then she had something to share, some photographic event that she sent via text. He pretended he was not interested. And I tried to forget that she was a name in his phone and not just a random sequence of numbers that she had been once.

A few days went by and I had forgotten her again. I was at my favorite bar with my favorite people. I had my hair down and my smile on. And then she appeared in the doorway with her girlfriend.

When people muse that time has the ability to stop completely in a moment with a significant pause and then stagger to regain its balance and then accelerate to make up the difference, well yes, I believe it can. It did in that moment.

She may or may not have seen me. It was busy there in the bar. And I made no attempts to welcome her or greet her, even when she passed my table. I wanted to grab her by the hair and demand answers, instead I felt like I was going to vomit or pass out from the adrenaline rush. And she passed me, with her manly companion and I let her pass.

Later, after the bar had cleared, after the booze had settled into my limbs, I wandered back into the bar with a friend to catch a glimpse of her. The friend casually glanced. She went to the bathroom and there was no way she could pretend not to notice me. So she walked past me and I knew that there was still something there in her heart for him. If there wasn't she could freely gallivant all over me, victorious, greedy, malicious, but there was something in her that did not want to be hurt by me.

Sometimes I wonder why she could not let him in. He was certainly willing. She was eager to share his world in many ways. They went on trips and had great times. I never imagined that it was because he still loved me. Sometimes I pretend it must be something else, but there is no pain greater than knowing you cannot possess someone completely.