Thoughts of Leaving

“I’m not happy.” Alissa sits down across the table from me. 

“Not happy about what?” I ask. 

She takes a breath, her eyes closed. Her eyelashes flutter up as she releases her breath. “I’m not happy here. In this.” She points back and forth between us. 

My neck starts to tickle. All I can do is watch her graceful hands as she sweeps strands of blonde hair away from her forehead. 

“Oh,” I say.

“Oh?” 

I scratch at my neck. “Why not?”

Alissa pauses. I can see she’s holding back tears.

“I don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” she admits. “I love you. You know that I love you. But I don’t know if it’s enough.” She pauses again. “It’s not enough.” 

My head starts to itch. I reach up to scratch it. 

“Jenny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you hear me?” 

I nod. “Yeah, um.” I look over at the fridge. We had covered it in all kinds of magnets. Some were from places we’d been, together or before each other. We had one with an Elle Woods quote and a rainbow one we bought at our first pride together. A few were from movies or books we liked. We had added a small whiteboard to it. We said we’d use it to leave each other messages, but we hadn’t changed it since we moved in. I wonder who will keep the whiteboard. 

“Jennifer.” 

I turn back to her. “Sorry. What were you saying?” 

Alissa pulls her hand up to her mouth. Her short nails yank away at the dead skin on her lips. I want to pull her hand away and kiss her. I want to tell her that I love her and I would fight for her and for us. But I don’t. 

“I just, I need more.” She doesn’t look at me. “I need someone who will tell me things. I need to know when you’re hurting and why. You just lock everything up inside. I never know what you’re feeling or thinking or anything.” 

I scratch at my neck again when my wrist starts to itch. I take my watch off to scratch it.

“I need someone who wants to hear about my feelings. I need someone who cares about me enough to talk to me. Someone who wants to talk to me.” 

I think of how much I love talking to her, about how she makes me laugh more than anyone. I think about how Alissa is my best friend, the person I can tell anything to. I think about how her eyes light up when she’s excited about something and she starts to bounce, just a little bit, so little that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t paying attention. I nod. 

“I know we’ve talked about this before but it just seems like nothing ever changes. I mean I feel like nothing ever changes.” 

I itch my head again, nodding along to what she was saying. 

“Jen, do you want to say anything?” 

“I hear you,” I tell her. “I get what you’re saying.” 

She stares at me in silence. She sniffles and I know she is fighting not to cry. She nods, looking away from me. I scratch at my thighs, leaving long red lines going up and down them. A bug bite I had gotten on the back of my shoulder starts to really act up. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“I think I need a shower,” I tell her. It feels like flames shooting across my skin as I scratch my lower back. “I think maybe some pollen got in here or something. I’ll be back.” I hurry to the bathroom, closing the door before she can say another word. 

I turn on the shower and strip. The warm water calms the tingling fire under my skin. I stand under it, not even grabbing the bar of soap. I let the water wash me of my thoughts and fears and feelings. 

I picture Alissa in the kitchen. I can hear her moving around. She always has to be moving around, doing something. She told me before that standing still made her anxious. She needed to move to breathe. Even in her sleep she’d toss and turn, moving throughout the night. We have a big bed but she’d still manage to kick me or roll onto me in her dreams. She was talented that way. If she left, maybe I’d get a full night’s sleep. But I can’t bring myself to care if I get a full night’s sleep. 

I rinse my hair. I love the feeling of wet hair. It always feels so gentle and freeing. I love the feeling of water on my skin. I stay under the water, just letting it rush over my body. I don’t know how long I’m there, but the water starts to turn cold. I shut it off and step out onto the mat, reaching for my towel and wrapping it around me. I pull at my hair so that it doesn’t drip, but don’t dry it further. My reflection stares at me, questioning my choices. I love her. I should tell her. I plot in my mind what I could say. 

I love you. I’m so sorry. Please, let’s talk about this.

No, that isn’t enough. 

Please, don’t leave. I’ll do better. I’ll listen and I’ll talk. I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave. 

Almost. Maybe. 

I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m fucking everything up. You deserve better, I’ll be better. I’ll do anything for you. Just stay. Please, just stay.

I close my eyes and breathe in. One, two, three, four. Hold it. Now out. One, two, three, four. I open my eyes and pick my clothes up off the ground, deciding if I should change. Probably. I put the clothes from the floor back on and hang my towel up. As I leave the bathroom I see her bags out by the front door. 

Alissa is standing by the sink when I enter the kitchen. The gloves are dripping into the sink and the previously dirty dishes are now air drying in the rack. She looks at me with her perfect blue eyes. Her face is blotchy and red. I smile at her and sit down. She stays standing. 

“Are you feeling better?” She asks.

I nod. I look at the fridge again. I think she had bought the whiteboard. It’s gone now. 

“Jenny?” 

I look up at her. She’s leaning against the table now. 

“Jen, do you want to say anything?” 

She really is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Her eyes well up again.

“You’re right,” I tell her. 

“What do you mean?” 

I nod at her, looking away. “You deserve someone who listens to you. You deserve someone who can tell you how they feel, who enacts real change. You deserve better than how I’ve been treating you. I’m sorry I’m not who you need.” 

She stares at me, her eyes drying. She shakes her head as she stands up straight. “Right.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She walks out of the kitchen.