Thunder

She sat by the picnic table reading the book he had suggested, thinking about how he'd liked all her social media that day but had yet to text her.  She was upset how much it bothered her.  She needed to shake this attachment to him.

She tried to concentrate on the book, but her mind wandered.  She remembered a couple weeks ago when he told her he would hold off the rain so she could have lunch outside.  She pretended to be mad when lunch came around and it had just started to rain, as if he had caused it to mess with her.  There had also been a deep rumbling of thunder just over the towering mountains. She found an awning and and bench so she could enjoy the book, and told him that he was off the hook.  It was the last time she remembered being able to concentrate on this book, but she was almost done with it.

Today was hot and dry, at least 97 degrees.  No chance of rain...no chance of anything.

Yet she could still hear the thunder rumbling.  It sounded like it was coming from the mountains, but she was sure it was also coming from inside her.

Texting

"Ugh this week is the worst!"

"The week didn't give you bedbugs!"

"But between the new job, house/dog sitting, and now trying to find a new place and get rid of the old...I'm fucking pooped."

"You have a perfect boyfriend to help you move, a temp place to live that doesn't have bedbugs, and a better paying job to pay for it all."

*Hours of silence*

"Have you thought about what you are going to do for his birthday?  It's pretty close."

"Bitch I was LITERALLY JUST THINKING ABOUT THAT!!!" 

"Is that the week he will be out of town?"

"Yes.  I think so."

"Boo. Then we have to do something sooner!  Well, you do anyway.  I'm not fucking him, dude is just getting a card from me."

"I've only fucked him once Penny!"

"Well that is one more time than I'm gonna do it!  One fuck=party planning person.  Sorry sister." 

I've made you feel better, now make yourself feel better.  I'm done. I can't make you happy with my ideal life.  Minus the bedbugs.

*Hours of silence*

"I forgot to write you back!"
"What should I do?  Idk who all his friends are!"
"I mean...maybe we can all just go to the bar or something?  Ugh! Idk!!  What do people do?!"

"Well, he's an introvert, he might just want to spend the night with you.  You should ask him."

"Well we are going on a breakfast date the Sunday after we close to celebrate his birthday and to officially go on a date lol I'll ask what his dreams of 39 look like."

"He'll appreciate you being straight forward.  Just ask him if he wants a party, a get together at a bar, or alone time."

Being in a relationship you aren't even a part of is exasperating.  

Driving Slowly

Her car was fast becoming her only source of solitude.  Although the temperature had dropped since the sun had gone down, she rolled down her driver's side window.  Her shoulder grew cold and a chill came through her body, but she kept the window open all the way home.  She had this vague notion that she could freeze the emotions out of her if she tried hard enough.  Maybe her heartbeat would slow to a manageable pace.

She was in a constant flux of dealing with other people's emotions.  She took on everyone else's emotions, and there was no room left for hers inside her mind.  She was feeling everyone else's emotions or she was frozen, shut down.  There was no inbetween.

Her car smelled of no one else tonight.  Her BFF had been the last one in it, and only for a brief moment.  Her sanctuary had become hers again.  She wasn't sure she ever wanted to let anyone back in.  If only she could stop her mind from wandering to her own stupid overzealous emotions.

The moon was so bright she could have turned off her headlights.  Even tonight she couldn't disappear completely if she wanted to.  She concentrated harder on the cold air coming into the car.  It wasn't working.

Sea Foam

"Well, now, you are grown up,” said the old dowager, her grandmother; “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;” and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.

“But they hurt me so,” said the little mermaid.

“Pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady. 

  ***

Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.  

-Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid

After the past month of trodding on sharp knives, she had finally reached the point of becoming a daughter of the air.  She was comforting and helping the girl who had won her prince's heart.  Reassuring the bride of his love and devotion despite an interloper monopolizing his time.  This interloper would be gone soon, and they both would have him back, in their own way.  

Of course, the little mermaid never had the prince or his full heart.  Hopefully she would always have his friendship, and he would never treat her as the prince treated the little mermaid.  She would just continue on, her oysters hurting her tail to distract her from the pain in her heart.

Anniversary

She winced every time someone wished them a Happy Anniversary.  It was like a dagger in her heart, she was physically feeling pain.  No one had done it before, and it didn't feel special.  The occasional Facebook post or a card had come, but for the most part it had always just been a date.  The date that always reminded her that when she woke up 11 years ago, she had felt like going to see a movie instead.

Not that she didn't love him then.  Not that she didn't love him now.  The love has just changed, evolved, devolved.  Things were different now, and being seen in a different light.  A book on love languages was seemingly ignored, but then her love language was suddenly being taken care of slowly.  It turns out he had heard and thought about it, but seemed to ignore it when she wanted to discuss it.  She wondered for how long that would actually last, feeding the romance.  She guessed it would be about a month before things went back to "the old normal."

In the meantime it was easing the stress level by a smidge.  It wasn't really helping her great feelings of loneliness and isolation in her current run of friends.  She felt everyone else had a stronger connection to another person, and her anxiety and fear of rejection stopped her from really sharing or allowing herself to get close to all but one.  PJ. 

PJ had just started a relationship with another mutual friend AB, and she could see and feel him emotionally slipping away.  He wasn't the type to be anything but 100% with a girl, so their friendship had lasted a few short months before essentially dying on the vine.  A snippy response from him on something that wasn't a big deal had crushed her.  Happiness for others and jealousy are emotions that ride shotgun alongside each other.

Maybe it was mostly her overwrought emotion, and it wasn't all this terribly empty life laid out in front of her.  Suicide entered her thoughts again, but not like the serious times before.  She didn't really want death, just something different from what she had.

You See, It's Like This...

She opened her car door 4 hours after the fact, and the interior still smelled of his breath.  The scent of Starburst shared from the movie, his beer, and heavy conversation had stayed behind all night as if to signal it's importance.

Last night it had become humid and uncomfortable in the car near the end, but otherwise she could have stayed there forever, having a conversation that would never be finished, maybe for the rest of their lives. She imagined them up in heaven having existential conversations, never realizing that they had themselves become existential.  They would look up one day and realize this was their heaven.

The air conditioner and her essential oils blew away his comforting smell as the long drive to work dwindled onward.  She almost missed the warmth of it, then realized that even without the smell it had still happened, no one could take it away.  He had shared a big part of what made him who he was, and that was precious.  She had wanted to share too, to support him in his words.  However there was too much to say, and so that night she had said nothing.  There would always be time later. 

Hopefully.

She drove under the overpass that lead to his house and set the cruise control as she sailed under it, wondering if that was a metaphor for something.