Say Anything Else

(The following is a short story based on a dream I had a few nights ago.)

He’s trying so hard not to laugh, his hands clasped behind his head, his bare chest exposed to the summer sun, the trail of dark hair from his navel disappearing into his jeans.  His abdomen rises and falls with each shot of air from his lips.  I’m squirming, my sunburned neck angrily telling me to put some sunscreen on, my skin hot for more reasons than one.  Cool bursts of breath tell me to slow down, take it easy, it’s ok, but I don’t know how to stop.  My clothes are sticking to my body, the sweat pooling in the dimples of my back, seeping into the crevice of my shirt.  The button of my shirt is stuck on my earring and is tugging at the flesh, threatening to tear. 

Hey, shh, calm down, he says, sitting up to face me.  His cold hands fiddle with the tangled apparatus and after a minute, I’m free.  I tell him thanks.  He shrugs and lies back in the grass.  I flop down on top of him, my palms resting on his shoulders.   There are words inside my mouth that want to come out.  I want to tell him that he hurt me, that it isn’t ok that I’m lying where I am right now, that he doesn’t have a right to be such an ass, doesn’t have a right to have me falling for him again. 

I know what you’re thinking, he says, and I’m sorry.  He’s lying.  You’re lying, I say pressing my forehead into his collarbones.  You’re lying and I hate it.  Why am I lying, he asks, sitting up, causing me to fall into his lap, straddling his thighs. Because, I say, Because I don’t want to fall for you again, I wrote a story about this exact situation and it happened,  I didn’t want it to happen, but you made it happen. 

You could have said no, he says, you didn’t have to say yes when I asked you. Why did you say yes? He asked.  I bite me lip and look away.  The last time I was this close to him, I was too afraid to straddle him and here I am now.  Because I couldn’t, I say, it was your stupid words of Destiny that tricked me into this.  You did everything right, I did everything wrong.

No you didn’t, he protests.  His cool palm is on my back.

We’re supposed to be just friends.

With benefits?

No, I say, just friends.  I roll off his lap.  He looks away, heavy lidded.  Sorry.

Why not? He asks. 

Because I don’t want to fall for you again if it’s just going to end the same way.  You lied to me, you said you wanted to keep going, too.  I said that I was falling for you and I didn’t know if wanted it to be just a summer thing.  I was serious and you weren’t.  You went off and fingered some other girl a few weeks later.

How do you know that?

I don’t know that, I say, but you wanted to go past your standard first base with someone, and that someone couldn’t be me.  Why not some other girl who’s a lot less interesting and five times as willing to let you do that. 

Oh…well.

I’m not comfortable with it, maybe I would have been, but you missed your chance.  I don’t feel anything anymore.  I don’t.  So why am I hanging out with you? Because I’m trying to clear the air, trying to patch things up, to get the closure I’m lacking.  Was I just a pretty face you wanted to fuck? Or was I really special to you, did I really make it the best summer you’ve ever had?  Why did you suddenly message me out of the blue and make me realize that at the time, I wasn’t over you?  Why did you keep answering me, why did you tell me that you were happy to change for me, that you wanted to be the one I was comfortable enough with to share a deeper part of myself with you?

He doesn’t answer.  I can’t make him answer.  I don’t want him to answer.

He is sitting there staring at the fence, watching a robin hovering around. 

Were you just calling it destiny because you thought I was beautiful?  Did you really fall for me? When did you fall for me?  What did you think the first time you saw me?  Do you think you were really ok with waiting?  If I had asked you, would you have dated me seriously?  If we weren’t who we were, would you still find me?  Did you miss your chance with me?

I don’t know, did I? he says, finally. 

You had your first chance, and you’re missing your second chance.  I don’t want you to change for me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to change for me, I want you to feel like you missed out on the best thing that ever happened to you.  Damn it, I deserve someone who is worlds more fantastic than you. 

I feel the tears bulging in the back of my eyes.

Did you love me?

I don’t think so.  Did you?

He doesn’t answer.  I can’t make him answer, so I answer for him.

No, you didn’t.  If you did, you would have tried your hardest to stay with me.  You would have made a commitment, you would have told me how sorry you felt that you left things they way you did. 

He puts on a shirt and runs his hands over his hair. 

I changed for you, I tell him; I changed for you believe it or not.  I never felt sexy in my entire life, and when I was with you, I felt sexy and flirty, I felt beautiful wearing an orange camp tee shirt, jean shorts, and sneakers.  I felt beautiful covered in pine sap and dirt, being yelled at, being sat on by kids in wet bathing suits.  I felt beautiful sweaty, in a bathing suit, without makeup, standing in the waves with you right behind me, in the car listening to Kings and Queens—which I can’t listen to without thinking about you, just so you know—and I felt beautiful when you told me that you wanted to be the one I wanted.  But you missed it.  And I’m writing another little letter to you to tell you how frustrated I am that nine months later, I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thing.

He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t say anything else.