Three Little Words
It was winter. It was one of those winter days where you sit at home and watch the roses wilting on your newly polished dining room table with your back to the snow. I was hungry, but I dared not eat, my stomach could last just a little bit longer. I remember that my gaze had moved from the wilting roses on the dining room table to the ballet slippers on the piano when the phone rang. Like I was walking through jell-o I reached the phone and listened.
“Look, Misaki, I’m sorry,” he said through the static of his cell phone.
I had waited for that call. I knew the entire situation was my fault, but had been too proud to admit it. That Saturday was a difficult one. The university had called to cancel my foreign exchange and my parents were suing to get me back. The Thursday before I found out I was betrothed and that Friday I was sent plane tickets from my parents with a note saying that they would cancel my registration with the academy, bring me home, and marry me off. I was numb and so numb in fact, that I hadn’t watched my language in regards to the people I held close. I broke up with my American boyfriend without a word on the matter and had prepared myself for my descent back to the traditions I fought so hard to avoid.
“Why?” I asked. It was the only word I could manage to get out. I knew I was using up his phone minutes and after he was out of those, he was out of luck. There was nothing to do in Michigan in winter with five feet of snow and if I used up his lifeline out of the house, I would have destroyed him for sure. I know it sounds superficial that he would rely so much on a cell phone, but he was stuck in the house as they couldn’t open the door for the snow and their phone lines were down because of the blizzard; this was his key to talking to someone other than his immediate family up there. He was already staying there for longer than he had originally expected.
He didn’t wait for more on my end. “I just heard you were leaving. I’m sorry for whatever I did to get you angry.”
“Jack,” I slammed my fist on the table to get my courage back. It was an odd habit, but for some reason, it cleared my head enough to continue. “It’s not your fault. It’s been a rough week. I find out my parents have pulled me out of school in order to be married to someone I’ve never met. I had to let you go free and I thought that if I took the first step, it would be easier for both of us.”
There was silence and I felt the tension between us slowly tick away with the minutes.
“Just tell me next time,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said, obviously cutting him off. I loved him, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I had no choice but to let go and I didn’t want to prolong the pain.
“If things get rough, don’t be afraid to talk to me. And if you come back, you’ll always have a place to stay. I understand you’ll be a married woman and it might be too hard to talk to your ex-boyfriend. You made quite an impression on my parents, Misaki. Don’t be afraid to ask for their help if you can’t stand talking to me.” There was a pause when neither one of us dared to speak. “I miss you already.”
I bit my lip to choke back tears. “I’ve missed you since you left for Michigan,” I joked. “But this is going to be a lot harder. I’m afraid he’s going to abuse me like Dad abuses Mom.”
Jack took in a sharp intake of breath and his phone crackled again slicing his next words. I didn’t care to have him repeat it, though at this point I would have done anything to continue our phone conversation. I knew I couldn’t call him again and I might not get away with contacting him for years. I choked back tears and listened to his voice ebb in and out of the static. If there was one thing I had to say before leaving, now was the time to do it. I prayed his phone would be clear enough just this once to get it out.
“You know how to find me,” he said once the static cleared.
I took a deep breath. “I love you,” I stammered. It was strange; in the two years of our relationship we had never said those three words to each other. I suppose we implied without words through flowers and smiles and various longing glance. Even though you can’t say everything, and in the art of conversation, there is much that isn’t said but understood anyway, there are some things that you have to say. And this was one of them.
“I love you, too,” he said without missing a beat. My heart snapped and my tears rolled down my cheeks in great waves. I knew he meant it and I knew I was losing the one man who would love me forever. It was genuine, I felt it, and it tore me to shreds.
“Bye,” he said. I could hear him crying on the other end.
“Good bye.”
This entry was posted on Saturday, January 20th, 2007 at 12:00 am and is filed under Paradise Lost, Realistic Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.