When I asked the gardener if the family would be home soon, he had no way of knowing why my eyes were so sad or why my hands would never stay still. he was kind to me and I almost wondered if I owed him an explanation. But instead I sat in silence on the bench, imagining worst case scenarios of every kind and conjecturing my reactions to them. Again I felt that every aspect of my life was telling me to turn around and not look back. It seemed unthinkable to imagine my life in such a different light as would follow. Even as I walked on my way to that house, the wind blew in my face, slowing my progress, as if to say, don't go there. Not today.

At last his face appeared from behind the bush below. He seemed so casual, as if we had not spent two weeks apart, but two hours. I attempted a smile, and surprisingly, it worked.

He had no key to his own house. My original plan, all my conjectures of how it would play out in his room, being able to leave him there to think alone and transferring the burden of the leaving to my shoulders, was destroyed. We would go to the park instead.

The park: a grassy place, out door, and exposed we would be. The bushes would not hide our conflicts nor could the sun brighten our dark tone of voice. A place of memories. Our second kiss, not our first. Our third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh kiss. Of being young and innocent and without a care. Why did such a place have to be cursed with the new memory that was to be formed?

We walked down that sidewalk, so familiar yet now, so strange. He laid his hand on my back just as always and I could not return the gesture. I could not draw him close to me for fear my mask of normality would break and my real face would be shown. Only three, maybe four blocks did we walk, but it seemed a journey. My face, tired of faking a smile, ached in unison with my heart and my heavy feet.

We reached our destination and I found that eye contact was not something that I could make with him. I didn't want to avoid his gaze. But when we sat down and he asked me how I had been, I did not want him to see what I really had been through.

I did not want him to see how I fought with myself day after day over the decision, how my mind was split in two, the sides constantly arguing. And when i did finally decide, having that feeling of brokenness and dread that haunted me to the point that every night my dreams were plagued with sorrowful images of him, and my greatest fear was that of the phone ringing and hearing his voice on the other line, and how I kept every ounce of my pain inside, not even letting on when I spent the night in the bathroom, throwing up my dinner. No, I did not want him to see my school picture which while thoughts of escaping the school as soon as possible so that I would not see his cheerful face, were running through my head. I did not want him to know how it pained me to find that he had called me twice and I could not bare to call him back.

I don't even know if what I said in response to his question made sense. I explained my reasoning, speaking the words I had rehearsed in my head so many times before, though I did not cry as I did when I spoke them to myself in the mirror, especially the words, "I can't change you." My mind was made up not to cry. I had not cried since the night I made up my mind. I did not cry until I learned how not to hide my feelings, again. Instead, my tears welled up and then ran down the inside of my cheeks, where they could not be seen.

I reached the couplet of my sonnet, the point of all my beating about the bush. I introduced the words, I said, "I think that..." and then I could not speak. I could not make the words come out of my mouth. I could not cause such pain on myself and him at the same time with so few words. I could not design my own fate. I don't know how long I waited before the words somehow found their way out of my throat.

"I think that we should take a break."

What did I want him to do? I wanted him to crumble and beg and fall at my feet, and spend the next to weeks trying to win me back. Or else I wanted him to become a tower of stone and smash me to pieces. I wanted him to tear the roots of the trees out of the ground. I wanted him to put a stop to all this once and for all. If only he would just walk away and break my heart too. But he didn't. He simply agreed.

But he took on my raspy, pained tone of voice when he agreed and his face was gray enough to dim the sun. His tower of stone shook and crumbled inside of him. He tried to look at me but his eyes were weighted towards the ground. And still no tears stained my face.

I waited for him to say more but no more came. The silence was barren as if we'd never say another word to each other again. But I could not let it end this way.

I spoke his name and his eyes, brightened by my addressing him, jerked up to meet my gaze. "I just want to tell you that I still love you." I was so afraid that if I hadn't said that, he would interpret my words "take a break" as forever and that I no longer belonged to him. At these words, his hand jumped to hold mine. "Oh, I love you too." I knew that, and it stung to hold his hand knowing that I'd have to let go.

So instead of pulling back, I hugged him. It was similar to a hug we had shared before. First I held him, comforting him, letting him hold me as tight as he wished, but then somehow we shifted, and he was holding me, giving me a shoulder to cry on, though no tears ever wet my cheeks.

I don't know what happened then. The hug did some good or else he could no longer bare to face the reality of the situation. He changed back into his old self and began chatting as if nothing had happened, as if we were friends again. I followed his lead.

As I walked him back to his house, i allowed his hand to rest on my back one last time. I didn't care to ruin our moderate contentedness with a reminder that we could no longer act in that way towards each other. I enjoyed it while I could, too.

My mind was at ease for a while for the first time in weeks. I believed things to come about much more pleasantly than anticipated. I had hope for the future.

"I'm so glad that we can still be friends."

"I think that'll be true no matter what happens."