Lovesick

Staring back at me, your face is cold. It shows none of the warmth that I know mine holds.

You close your eyes and breathe heavily, face furrowed. Your mouth is pinched and hard. I long to brush my lips against yours, feel them relax, feel them push back at me urgently. But space has come between us, and I know that if I leaned forward now, you would turn your face away.

Around us, the world spins on. Waiters waltz through the maze of tables. Couples, families, friends, surround us in a whirl of life and excitement. Only we two remain still, locked in each other..

You open your eyes and let them meet mine. Mine, so dark and earnest. I am beginning to cry, and I know it. My throat is dry and itchy, my eyes burning, my mouth dry and trembling. But I do not want to loose face in front of you, so I look away, down at the tablecloth clenched in my shaking hands. The white material pools over my lap, so pale and unblinking, so calm.

You sigh at my face, so dark with emotion. A lock of hair slips from behind my ear and brushes my face. A lifetime ago, you would have reached over and tucked it behind my ear. I used to laugh when you did that, feel too much like any clichéd heroine in a movie. But you don’t move forward, so I reach up and push it out of my eyes. My fingers feel clammy and unreal.

Through dark streets we walk. Gone are the wandering steps of lovesick couples. In their place is purpose, determination. Our feet have a new stride to them, as if this has become just another journey to be made. Our reflection gazes back at us as we walk past empty shop windows. My face, so bleak and pinched. Eyes dark with smudged makeup, lips pale and colourless. My face blurs together in one blend of expressionless colour.

Beside me, your face is turned away, unreadable. I feel a sense of hopeless inevitability closing around me. I know now that if I walk beside you in silence, and let the soft sound of our footsteps fill the breach, then this will be it. This will be the last time you walk me home, the last time your shoulder bumps mine, the last time I hear the steady sound of your breathing. I think of all the moments in the night, when I would wake and hear you steady breaths beside me. The thought of waking to silence fills me with dread.

The streets near my apartment are empty and silent. You turn at the door of my flat, look at me with eyes dark and sorrowful. A surge of panic rises up in me as you turn to leave, and I feel myself reach forward, and pull you toward me. You hold me, just like you always did, arms around my waist, my forehead resting against your chest. Then slowly, you pull back, and turn and walk away.