We exchange awkward glances.
I rack my brain for a question to ask, I’m so desperate to get out of this suffocating fog of silence.
Where did all my preparation go?
I thought I was ready.
And you sit there, fiddling with the corner of your vest, willing the silence to scream louder.
This is harder than I thought.
Well, we both have our guard up today.
Can you blame us?
The hell we went through didn’t exactly leave an easy air about us.
To reach each other we will always have to climb this mountain.
Do I even want to do this?
Why am I even here?
I should leave.
We play this silent, placid, tug a war.
Typically one of us wins.
Today we’re struggling longer than our usual.
“How is she?”
Your words finally pierce the air like a whizzing arrow, and hits me between the eyes.
I take a quick moment to recover.
Quick, only because what you said demands a response.
“She’s good. She doesn’t even ask”.
Pain stains your face like a drop of color into clear water.
“Im sorry”, you say, with so much weight to your words.
Nothing can lift the burden you’ve placed.
But you know that.
“People learn to live with heaviness” I say.
I hope that thought brings you comfort, in this cold damp place.
I gather my things and leave.