Page 38 of Losing a Piece of Me

I take a deep breath and get in my truck.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I park next to her in the parking lot behind a multistory, brick building. The building looks to have five floors and each window has potted plants setting on the windowsills. The whole building has a charm to it that reminds me of home.

She silently leads me through the lot, avoiding eye contact and conversation alike.

We step inside the building’s main floor and I look around, noticing the inside of the building is missing the charm the outside has. The walls are a plain gray and the floor is made up of painted brick. One wall is lined with mailboxes while the other side of the room holds the staircase. I follow her to the elevator directly in the center. The confined space of the elevator quickly becomes thick with tension. She doesn’t know what I want. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I didn’t think she would give me the time of day.

The elevator dings at her floor and the doors open up for us to step out. She leads the way, turning right down the hallway until coming to a stop at her door and inserting the key. I intently watch her every move. She turns the knob and walks in ahead of me.

Her place is tiny, only furnished with the bare minimum. A small, unadorned table resides in the kitchen, and the living room furniture consists of just a plain brown couch, a low coffee table, and a small flat screen TV. The light gray walls are bare, like she just moved in. Nothing about the place even indicates that this is her apartment.

A cat brushes up against my leg and I gently push it away before taking a step toward her while she sits on the couch, watching me with unmoving eyes.

I sit down and continue to look around. “So this is where you’ve been all these years?”

She presses her lips into a tight line and nods.

I let out a loud breath and lean back, running my hand through my hair. “Why haven’t I heard from you?”

This takes her by surprise. “I didn’t think you would want to hear from me after I snuck out of your house.” Her voice is timid and hushed.

I turn to look at her. “That’s fucking bullshit. Why haven’t you called?”

“I don’t know your number,” she shoots back.

My eyes narrow in anger, and my I can feel my face flush as my blood pressure spikes. “Why haven’t you called?”

She just looks at me. Her eyes are cold and emotionless.

“We both know that if you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve gotten my number. So why haven’t you?”

She takes a deep breath and pushes up from the couch. “Because it’s too hard.” Her instincts are clearly telling her to run but her movements are confined to the small living room, so she resigns herself to restlessly pacing back and forth. “Being with you, it’s too hard.” She stops and her eyes lock on mine.

I stand but remain still, not moving any closer to her. “What’s hard? I love you and I know you still love me. Why won’t you admit it?”

“I don’t have to admit it, we both know it!” she shouts. Her hands fly to her hair and start gently tugging at it.

Her words cool my blood a little bit, reducing it from a boil to a simmer. I take a few deep breaths to ground myself.

“Why is it so hard being with me? What did I ever do to make you think you can’t trust me? Why do you keep fucking running from me?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” I ask, moving closer. The closer I get to her the more of a pull she has over me. It’s like I’m not even moving my feet anymore, she’s pulling me to her.

“I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

“Why?” I whisper as I continue to move closer. Heat radiates from her, and I can smell her shampoo. We’re chest to chest, eyes following each other’s every movement. Her breathing speeds up and her lips part.

“I can’t tell you. Can you please just accept that? I can’t tell you, I would if I could.”

I place my hand on her hip and let my fingers trail up her stomach. “Can you feel this?”

She tears her eyes from mine, but I don’t stop. My fingers make their way over her breast and up to her neck. “Can you feel me now? I’m here, standing in front of you, wanting you like I’ve wanted you even after all these years. Can you feel me?” My fingers slide over to her shoulder and down her arm where I grab her hand and place it on my chest, over my heart. This intimate touch makes it pound even harder.

With her palm flat against my chest, I say, “It’s beating for you, only you, and I need you to feel it. Can you feel it?”

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