"I Love Her"

“Don’t you remember?”

I felt so raw having to ask the words to Her. I never thought I’d show such a weak side to myself for such a small thing. But I fell hard with Her and I was always destined to be the one that needed Her more than she could ever need me. I would have been embarrassed if shame and pain didn’t overwhelm me instead, climbing up my body as I sat there on my knees with Her looking down at me, a puzzling expression that I dared to hope still hid some affection for my dark curls and small frame that loved to hug Her around Her neck despite it’s lack of comfort for either of us. 

Maybe she’ll think I was being dramatic over such a simple… misunderstanding I guess it was? But it was something I had dreamed of for us. I understood she was busy so I wasn’t angry, I just missed her. All I wanted was movies and dinner on my birthday. I wanted cheap pizza and cheesy rom-coms and laughable Michael Bay action movies for one night. Something simple. And she agreed. She smiled and even promised to indulge my clingy self and give me endless cuddles until the light of the next day brought us back to responsibilities and the rift of distance I was paranoid about occurring between us. 

I sat all the week before in my chair staring at the laptop on my desk, too distracted to write anything for the book my editor said needed to be completed in a timely manner. Like a little kid I fiddled with my thumb and giggled as I imagined a picturesque night with a beautiful woman who loved me. 

It’s amazing how quickly happiness can be soured into disappointment. 

I’ve never been good at masking my emotions, I blush profusely, and am a horrible liar. So when she walked out in a silk suit saying she would be back late and to not wait up, the confusion and fear on my face and screaming behind my eyes was as clear as day. And when she looked back at me with confusion about my hurt I found the strength to be rejected and ask because there was the smallest sliver of hope she might stay.

“Don’t you remember?” I asked

Silence from Her continued.

“You promised we would have a night in with each other for my birthday. Remember?”

“Oh. That’s today? I can’t believe I forgot. Look- I have a networking cocktail party for work. My coworker is coming to pick me up right now. I really need this, please, let’s take a rain check, okay? I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry. ”

She walked to the door, finished with my problem, cleared it up and started moving on. I was stunned, but she was right. I didn’t argue or fight back. I didn’t even cry. I just stood trying to appear anything other than dumbfounded and hurt. As she opened our front door to leave I saw Her beautiful coworker, all dressed elegantly, draped in simple jewelry, standing tall in sleek heels. And there I was sitting and looking over the back of our couch, crowded by jealousy and envy, as my self-confidence fought for its life while it withered away by the woman’s clear superiority. 

The woman’s smile lit up the room and I instinctually drew my fingers to my lips, unable to stop quivering--pathetic--remembering just how crooked my teeth had become because I hadn’t been using my retainer. Drawn by curiosity, overcoming the anxiety and giving me courage, I walked up behind Her, feeling foolish as I did in only Her old oversized college sweatshirt and childish boyshort underwear with my thick lensed glasses enhancing my muddy colored eyes. I gave a shy smile to the woman, and she smiled back, the same smile one gives a child before whisking their adult away for more stimulating conversation.  

I gave a small nervous laugh, “Well have a good night I guess.” I said both of them. I then turned to Her. “I might be asleep before you get back. Imma try to write a chapter or two but you know how I get when it’s late and I’m in comfy clothes.”

She explained to the woman, “My girlfriend,” she introduced first. “She’s a writer.”

“What kind of books do you write?” the woman inquired, turning to face me.

“Romance,” I respond shyly, resisting the urge to melt away from this intimidating woman.

“Well someone has got to keep the supply of romance novels flowing for middle-aged women I suppose,” the woman chuckled dryly. 

An awkward silence started to form.

“She always gets mad at me when I make fun of her silly romance novels,” she started. “You’re getting lucky she’s not defending her work. She’s small but can be a menace. I love her anyway though.” 

A blush took control of my face. I was offended--they had both insulted what I do, what I love, what others enjoy for its “silliness.” But the words “I love her” rung in my ears, distracting me into keeping my cool. It’d been awhile since she addressed me as Her lover, the object of affection in Her life. 

“Well, we better get going before everyone gets so drunk on champagne they won’t even remember our names.” The woman interrupted as I was still in a trance. 

She leaned in and gave me a kiss. It was just a peck and it made me want more of Her. The romantic in me was…excited after her use of “love.”

I waved them off as they left through the door leaving me in our apartment, the only lights on being the kitchen light and TV. I stood at the door awhile. I went up on my toes, letting myself feel unstable as my soft socks slowly slid on our creaky wood floors. I smiled, uncontrollably replaying Her voice saying “I love her” in my head. I danced a little and got ready for a marathon of old Buzzfeed Unsolved episodes as I ate ice cream--my birthday tradition in college and before I’d moved in with Her. 

I was content, really happy even. Somewhere in my head I knew, I knew I should be angry, jealous, and worried about Her and Her coworker. But the words “I love her” were too powerful. I was put in my place, satisfied with my relationship so easily. 

I opened, took a bite of my ice cream and played the episode.