It wasn’t a lie

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t supposed to make him fall. They way he fell. The way they all thought we were amazing. Damn, did I mess things up.

I said the thing everyone wanted me to say. But that wasn’t the truth. But the truth wasn’t the whole truth either. And now, here I lay with him. Or rather, between him and my guilt. Guilt for letting things go further than I could reach. For letting him take us higher than I could go. Here I am with my fragility and his strength. Which one was supposed to win?

He smiled over at me. I tried to smile back, but all I could do was stare at his bright eyes, his optimistic grin, his ignorant bliss.

I’m not the one for you, and yet you linger on my every word; you consume every breath I take; and you, you love me like I’m something special.

“What’s wrong?” He asks so sweetly. He asks in such a caring way. It’s as if he can see through my eyes, into my soul, and can hear all the things I’m not saying. But, if this were true, his smile would turn to a grimace, and I would be looking at his broad back instead of his piercing eyes.

“Nothing,” I began as I turn to look over at him. “Just thinking about the approaching day.” He smiles again. The thought of the day almost makes him jump out of bed and into a world where I’m already his eternally.

“I’ve been thinking about the day non-stop, too,” he says through his glee. “I keep seeing you in white, gliding towards me, down the aisle…” He trails off as he begins to playfully hum the familiar wedding song. And, to me, the song sounds like an impending death, the blaring trumpet as the criminal walks to the gallows.

If you let this go on, you’ll die. But, if you don’t let it go on, he’ll die. Who’s blood do you want on your hands? Who broken heart do you want to spend your entire life trying to pick up? How much pain must continue with your indecisiveness…

“You’re not saying something,” he says as his smile fades and a look of concerns paints his face. He gets serious when asking concern questions. He leans in to me. Kisses me. Gently, sweetly, saying in that one kiss that he will protect, love, care for, and hold me forever…

Tell him. TELL HIM!!

The tears have begun their final stance, and the front lines are about to be breached. As I stare at him, through him, into my own soul, I see the world around us crumble.

I wasn’t even in the mood to go out that night. But, resolved that tonight would be the night. All the lying was tearing us apart, and he had no idea. He, however, was brimming over with pleasure, accomplishment even, and I couldn’t quite read him.

I wish I had been able to read that pleasure. Then, I could’ve been more strategic in answering negatively to his destiny-making question. Then, I could’ve screamed my true feelings. But, now I’m trapped.

The maître d' escorted us to a table in the back of the restaurant. In the elegance of the upscale place, the flowers, the band playing, the finely dresses people, I was lost in my resolve to be honest. To be, for once, honest.

“What’s wrong,” he brought me back to the present. He was no longer filled with glee, or concern. The brightness was gone. The weight of my silence was shadowed over his face now. “You want to tell me something don’t you?”

“Yes,” I began bringing myself into a full realization that I had to be the executioner. I had to end the pain I was in, and at the same time cushion the pain he was going to endure. The thought of this feat had kept me up every night since the horrifying night I answered him. “But, I haven’t quite figured out how to say it.”

His eyes went downward. My poisonous venom had hit his veins and I watched as the life he dreamt about with me slowly spilled out of him. And in that sight, the tears made it to the front line and attacked my face.

Through his anger, sadness, and confusion, “You’re just getting cold-feet.”

I shook my head no. I shook my head to confirm what I didn’t have to say.

And when the words actually come out, you’ll have ripped out his heart, squeezed it between your fingers, and let drip down the man you once loved.

The sobs between us both were quiet. And although tears streaked our faces, a resolve permeated the thick emotional cloud that lay above.

“I’m not mad,” he began as he brushed away my tears, “I just wish you had have told me sooner.” His calm, through this revelation, was astounding, but not a surprise. He stared at me. Heartbroken eyes drowning in tears glared back at me.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to choke out through crying and hard breaths.

Even in your treachery, his heart still only wants you to be alright. You’re a horrid person.

“I know you are,” he said as he stood to get out of bed. And now facing me, e held out his hand to bring me to him.

The seconds between standing and reaching his eyes pulled at my heart so that it felt as if I had left it there on the bed. I stared, knowing that I had let go of a burden by placing I the arms of blameless Samaritan.

“I’m going to go,” he said. His voice still calm, but now with fragments of emotion. It cracked as he finished. And the stronghold he held was shattered, but all that showed was a watery gaze. “I’ll tell my family.”

“You hate me,” still through tears, still through guilt, still through hatred from myself.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He let go of my hand and placed his arms around my hips. Pulling me in to him and making me feel his heartbeat the way I did when I was madly in love with him, said this:

“You were broken beyond repair when I met you. But, I took you in knowing and believing that I could fix the damage. And, I think I even had you believing you could be fixed. But, I was wrong.”

Finally the honesty of the situation. The elephant that had been following us from day one. He always knew.

Coming from anyone else that brutal honesty would’ve caused me to become defensive and begin an onslaught of verbal warfare. But, from him the honesty was the truth. That honesty was the only thing that had not been consumed by his dream. That honesty was the best and worst thing about us.

And, with that statement, he let me be. Left me to my thoughts. Walking away from me, he turned and his eyes told me exactly what I will always know. He loved me more than I will probably ever be loved, but not enough to cover up the wounds I had sustained at the hands of vicious attackers and cunning tricksters.

He began retelling me of the first day we met: what I wore, where I was sanding when he first noticed me, and how I wore my hair. He began reciting a poem he wrote for me in our third month of dating. And finally, through his glowing eyes, he illuminated the room, and eliminated the entire restaurant. He moved from behind the table, got down on one knee, and sent me into the dungeon of my emotional frailty. But, amidst all the screaming in my head that said no, I said yes.

I sat in disbelief as I let the last ounce of my trust and love walk out the door. I sat staring at the one man that had fought the hardest and bruised the least. I sat knowing that the damages were too much, like the city left in ruins after an unannounced natural disaster. I sat in the aftermath of it all—the right decision made.