In The Meantime

The weight of time was heavy on her shoulders as she perched herself upon the outdated and torn cobalt vinyl-topped stool. She had been waiting for what he called "in the meantime" but for her this meant it was the end of their time. She was tired of hanging on the fringes of his lapsed moments and the expired memories of whom they had hoped to be. The sad thing, or rather it was quite pathetic, she knew at the beginning that this was going to be how it ended.

He had slowly pulled his hand away from her even as the romance began. Each day, he offered less of himself, his life, and his experience to her. She was silent most days hoping that her love would be enough for the two of them, but she had been warned by many of their friends that he was barren in the ways of affection or romance. He was endlessly detached and preoccupied with nearly everything and everyone else around them. He never stopped to focus on her, not even when they were alone.

Each time she was ready to concede and walk away, there was a moment, a glimmer of hope, when he would catch her eyes and she felt as if she could bottle those fragmented moments. Maybe those would be enough.

Silence. Her gaze trailed off to the edge of the trees that were just outside the diner window. She wondered if he would even show up this time. She had been desensitized to the idea of being stood up and long ago decided that she would not allow his disregard for her to cause her mental anguish, but it was inevitable. She slowly realized that each time he did not show, did not listen, or pushed her to the side for other obligations it chipped away at her ability to love him and more importantly to love herself.

She was drowning and choking daily on the bitter taste of regretful tears. In the secret moments of midnight, she would cry alone in the bathroom when no one could see her, and no one could hear the torment of her heart. She felt as if she had no place and every piece of her was consumed with pleasing him and vying for his affection. Still, the entirety of her attempts was never enough.

As time passed, she felt her heart cripple. The stains of kohl smeared across her cheeks were the evidence of the years she had been left waiting. I’ll never be what he wants, she thought to herself. Wasted! All this time, all these tears, my whole life was just wasted; all because I’ve been left waiting.

She checked her watch nervously anticipating her fated next step. She had made up her mind that if he left her waiting again this would be the last time. The fact that she had her suitcases already packed and waiting in the car was proof of what she already knew. He was twenty-five minutes late, and she decided after thirty minutes it was really over this time. She could no longer accept the disregard and apathy that he showed toward her.

She was tired of living a life composed of obscured dreams and shadowed doubts. She never knew where she stood with him or if he even loved her. Sure, he would say the words, but his actions told the tales of listless affections. The fog of pain was forever surrounding her heart and she just needed to feel something more. She needed to fold bag the blanket of fear; the fear of losing him had haunted her all these years.

She checked her watch again, only another minute had passed, and the slow sway of eternity began for the next four minutes. Her mind wandered, tracing the edges of the past years with thoughts of what she should have said and the things she let slide. She never wanted to be the needy woman who always asked for his time. She knew his job took a lot of his time but there was never anything left for her at the end of the day, or the week, or even at the end of the month. The times he would take off he wasn’t present and seemed to enjoy spending time with his friends or his phone more.

Maybe if she expressed her hurt to him, maybe if she had said the words out loud, maybe…well things could’ve been different. But she was raised to never press these issues or act clingy. Until this relationship, she never considered herself insecure, but as time did its dance and her confidence slid, she twisted her back away from feeling enchanted and traded her dignity for a cloak of shame. Had she just said something, at least she would have known where she stood, and not wasted so much time.

I can’t look back, she thought to herself. What’s done is done. Another minute had passed.

The scars from hiding in the silhouettes of silence were beginning to shine through. The anguish of holding back her tears and her words was beginning to break from her with each tick of the clock. Saddened by what could have been, she readied herself to embark on her new life. Never again would she remain muzzled by anxiety.

Only three minutes remained of this life. The sadness and regret of words left unsaid and her desire to know how he truly felt were fading as the smoldering embers of clarity were beginning to ignite within her. The fiery passion that she had once felt for him was now muted by her realization that she deserved better than being the forgotten girl that only looked good on his arm when he needed her. But she knew it was the mountain of ash that piled up from burned-out desires that choked the life from this love.

He was now twenty-eight minutes late, and she thought to herself, am I really going to wait for these last two minutes? Will two minutes change anything? Even if he were to show up, I am already gone. She slid from the stool and heard the click of her heels on the tiles, it was the sound of freedom. Today she chose to no longer sit in a place of humiliation and disgrace. As she walked out the door she heard the diner bell ring behind her, and she never looked back.