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LJ Idol: No Comment

I've spent a lot of time thinking about what I would say if I ever saw you again. If I ever turned a corner and came face to face with you. If I walked up to order my latte and you were the barista behind the counter. If I slipped into a train or bus seat, my eyes concentrated on my phone, only to look up and see that you were in the seat across from me. If I was sitting in any of our old places, drinking a coffee or a whiskey and ginger or a longneck beer, and saw you come strolling in. If I were in a distant city, on vacation or business, and saw you across a crowded hotel lobby, a dark restaurant, improbably dropped back into my life. I've played the scene out a million times in my mind, all the ways that our paths could cross, in places both familiar and strange. Sometimes I see you first. Sometimes you see me first. Sometimes you say something to me. Sometimes the silence stretches for miles.

At first, when my heart was still raw and bleeding, when the pain was too much for me to draw a deep breath, I imagined I'd say something heartfelt. Something out of a country song (not a good country song, but a country song, the kind with the whiny slide guitar and the cane-syrup-sweet lryics), something about how I'd never stopped loving you. And you'd put your arms around me and pull me close and the world would spin and everything would be good again.

Then, after some time had passed, and I'd allowed myself to get angry at you -- and make no mistake, I was angry at you, with a burning passion that sometimes frightened even me -- I thought that I'd probably just growl out a "Fuck you" and walk away. Or maybe I'd play it cold and distant -- "I'm sorry, do I know you?" Sometimes it was you speaking first, begging me to take you back, and I'd respond with something cutting and pithy before turning on the pointy heel of my boot and striding away from you, leaving you crushed and broken.

Then I started to think that I'd play it out like a scene out of a John Hughes movie. I'd stride up to you, Molly-Ringwald cool, and stand in front of you, forcing you to look at me. I'd look you straight in the face and say, "I just wanted you to know that you didn't break me." And then I'd walk away. I wouldn't even look back to see how you reacted.

These days? After all this time?

I don't think I'd say a thing. Oh, I wouldn't hide from you or hope that you didn't see me. I'd make damn sure you saw me. I'd fill up your field of vision with everything I've become over the last decade, I'd pull myself up to my full height and throw my shoulders back and meet your gaze. But I'd make no comment.

And that silence would tell everything you need to know -- that I didn't just survive you, I fucking thrived without you.




( 12 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 11th, 2017 03:52 pm (UTC)

I love this. I can really relate to it!

Feb. 11th, 2017 04:50 pm (UTC)
Saw something on Twitter . . .

Him: Nice to see you again. Is it Ms or Mrs?

Her: Dr.
Feb. 12th, 2017 03:46 pm (UTC)
I really really loved this .... just because I really really lived this. Every emotion I went through you have penned down so beautifully .... Hugs.
Feb. 13th, 2017 08:10 am (UTC)
I love it! Also how I've been feeling a bit lately; got a good chance of running into a Certain Someone this coming weekend, and I'v been wondering how it'd go. You described my stages of What-If pretty well. Great work!
Feb. 13th, 2017 07:31 pm (UTC)
This captures the healing from a breakup so perfectly, and that final state-- where you aren't afraid, you aren't diminished, you are in fact stronger than ever-- is such a victory, whether or not you ever get to say those words in person.
Feb. 13th, 2017 11:16 pm (UTC)
Great ending!
Feb. 14th, 2017 11:23 pm (UTC)
The end is so important to this. After all that heartbreak and imagined meetings, it became this: you thrived.
Feb. 15th, 2017 04:14 pm (UTC)
)applause)! You go!
Feb. 16th, 2017 02:54 am (UTC)
This is great and that is a great way to handle someone who broke your heart.
Feb. 16th, 2017 04:27 am (UTC)
Oh yes! I wish I could say that I did that, but no. I hide. But later, years later, we just talked, and I left but forgot to say goodbye. Weird, huh?

I love what you did with this prompt. This is great! This is...mighty!
Feb. 16th, 2017 12:58 pm (UTC)
Cheers!! This was perfectly captured- the entire cycle after heartbreak. Well done!
Feb. 16th, 2017 08:48 pm (UTC)
I can relate to this in many ways. And it's amazing how much you can say by not saying anything at all.
( 12 comments — Leave a comment )


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