witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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That night your eyes pierced into me, fixed with a gaze of silent protest.

"So, he's coming?" you declared all at once with the intonation of a question and the certainty of a declaration.

"Well, yes. I didn't know he would. He surprised me" I admitted, uneasy with the apologetic tone quivering in my voice. After all, why should I be made to feel sorry for the amiable gesture of somebody who loved me?

"Tell him--tell your boyfriend not to sit next to me." Your voice had lost all the sardonic humor it normally possessed, and had now withdrawn to a cold reproach. I tried to ease the tension by laughing and pinching your sides.

"No, he definitely won't sit next to you. On your lap is much more comfortable, I imagine." I waited for your usual smile to crack the morose expression on your face. The corners of your mouth remained composed,pressed tightly into pursed lips. My words, resting on the tides of uneasiness, were met simply by your heavy sigh.

When at last he arrived, your entire body stiffened; words and limbs drew back into your body, stealing away any lingering extension of yourself that remained in our realm. I sat between you two, his hand resting on my thigh, yours crossed defiantly in your arms.

The show ended and you exchanged an obligatory "goodbye," your words embodying the sallow emptiness of the look on your face.

Later that night you told me "I can't talk to you anymore."
You told me "to be with you is happiness, but pure sadness too."
You told me "you're both the highlight and worst part of my day."
You told me "when I see what you are, I see what I can't have."
You told me "I love you."

And that disclosure etched in both our minds the engraving on the tombstone of our friendship. That ill-fated four letter word, emerging like a dagger, uttered by 5 others before you, and rejected all but once.

But now I knew why that night your eyes pierced into me. And I muse over my own insensitive obliviousness, sitting between you two; one the exception, the other the rule.

2:32 a.m. - Thursday, Apr. 21, 2011

Then - Now