I Wish You Would

How many Taylor Swift song references can you count? Started with building a story from ‘I wish you would’ very dramatic, to this :)

It’s 2am again, and I’m far from asleep. The lavender oil, sleep tea, meditation and stretches hours ago had done nothing to make me relax and rest my body. The early morning was bone cold and rain was pounding loudly against the pane of my windows. The flashes of lighting catching my eye through the sheer curtains. I never slept on stormy nights. Not alone.

He’d always comfort me on stormy nights. Knowing that they scared the shit out of me and I would lie awake in the grips of terror all night. So, he would come over, or make me stay at his. Parking a block away and sneaking in my ranch slider when I was grounded but needed him to make me feel safe. He would layer, well smother, me in blankets, force calming herbal teas at me and distract my mind with kisses or my favourite movies. His arms tight around me, protective and warm.

There hadn’t been a storm since we broke up. Clear blue days and all of a sudden this. Everyone else in the house was fast asleep and would laugh at my fear of the stormy night if I woke them. It was always him who reassured me and held me till I feel asleep on thundery windy nights.

I wish you were right here. Right now. I thought.

I missed him. I wish I never hung up from that call like I did. I could’ve waited, heard him out, let myself calm down but no. Furious and too beyond mad to hear excuses, reasons. I hung up. I ended it. It was my fault we were over.

I wish we could go back. To before the fight. Before the call. Before the breakup. Before this storm. In the daytime, it was so much better. I could distract myself with work, helping the family, walking the dogs and cooking dinner. Too much Netflix and rom com shows at night hurt my eyes (blue light queen) or was upsetting. Too many nights spent sobbing to When Harry met Sally and Dirty Dancing. Basic, I know. At night, my mind was free to ponder everything. I remember it all too well.

The breakup was still fresh and fragile and hurting. I couldn’t bear to delete his texts, or his number despite my older sister Eva’s multiple attempts at erasing all contact from me. She said a few weeks was long enough and I needed to start moving on but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to move on. 

I don’t even know what we were fighting for. 

I wanted to text him. To apologize. To let him know. It was stupid. I was stupid. I miss him too much to be mad anymore. But the damage was done. I asked for too much. I knew he didn’t want to hear from me. I wish he was right here, right now. Selfishly, for me. To hold my hand through the stormy night. To apologize and see if we could move past that. To be with me.  

I began to reminisce of the nights in his car. How when it wasn’t stormy but raining, we’d drive around aimlessly. Eventually ending up having our own loop that we would circle as we chatted and giggled deep into the night. Sometimes he’d pull over and run into our local Dairy Queen. It would always be a surprise what he brought out, a sundae, a slushie or even milkshakes despite the fact he was lactose intolerant. Silly boy. He always knew how to push my buttons.

I can picture it. The nights staring out the window, seeing his face reflected in the streetlight. Our hands clenched in the middle of the car. The stereo on and listening to Clinton Kane, after he’d dubbed, I GUESS I’M IN LOVE as our song. Him singing at the wheel, flashing me a cheeky smile or wink as we travelled in circles around our tiny town. Parking in empty car lots and sipping soda between sticky sour strap kisses.

I sighed and pulled myself into a seating position, tucking my feet up and blanket tight over my knees. Its takes everything in me to not message him- to see if he’s awake on this stormy night, thinking of me too? To see if he’s okay. To see if he still cares. To see if his sister still has my woolen pink scarf. Huh.

Can he still hear me talking to him in the dark? Know that I’m thinking about him every damn night. Headlights flash past my windows. I had thought we were the only crazy ones who went out driving in the middle of the night. 

He probably thinks I hate him. Or that I moved on. And both of these are wrong. I don’t want to be hurt again, to have accept that this is real, we’re over. Or to be told he’s over it, he doesn’t want to get back together. I bet he’s still up, always was notorious for getting in a rabbit hole of watching movies or gaming with his friends, eyes glued to the tv. Just one text?

The hour dragged by as I mused over my heartbreak. I remembered having read somewhere that if you can’t sleep to get up and go into another space. I don’t think sleep experts meant outside, probably the lounge or kitchen, just out of bed, but I felt myself padding over to the ranch slider and pulling open the door from my bedroom to the back deck. The lighting had stopped, but the rain continued to pour heavily.

I stepped onto the deck, only in a short pajama set, and let the rain wash over me. Sinking to the ground as the rain soaked my skin. The streetlights and headlights once again flashing through the rainy night.

I wish he would come back.