searchingforsigns
spaced out
The Night You Left.
I remember that you had asked if we could meet later in the day at about 7 in the morning. This hadn’t occurred to be strange to me at the time, because you’d often try to text me before you started your morning routine and headed off to work. You always told me that was the favorite part of your day, because you hated your job. I asked you where we should meet and you said the quiet bench we often found ourselves at when everything else was too loud and busy. Again, I thought nothing of it. It was one of our favorite meeting spots.
I went through the habits of my day as any other. I attended my job in the morning, school in the afternoon. Nothing felt different than any of my other days. If only I’d known that this night would shake up my life in a way I could’ve never imagined.
On my way home, I ran into an elderly man with wispy white hair that was selling flowers. Well, one flower. It was a beautiful red rose, soft petals and sharp thorns. He told me that he had grown them in his garden and he hated to pick them, but every penny went to restoring his wife’s gravestone. He was running out of flowers to pick and sell and he still had money to raise. He sounded so defeated which broke my heart, so I bought the rose. He thanked me many times, and I told him it was nothing and continued on my way. As soon as I walked through the door into my home, I drew water into a small vase and placed the rose into it. I had decided that I’d tie a ribbon around the stem and I would gift the flower to you later.
At about 6, I left my apartment with the rose to begin the walk to our bench. I couldn’t help but smile, seeing you always made me feel happier and lighter. You were my favorite person, after all. We’d been together nearly four years. Of course we had our ups and downs, but what couples didn’t? Despite everything we’d been through, you still made me so happy up to that point. I made it to the bench before you, so I soaked in the scenery. No matter how many times I came here, it was always as magical as the first. Giant oak trees cradled the small park, so densely planted and with branches so wide, the sky could hardly be seen sometimes. A few walking trails weaved through the oak trees and many families walked on them with their children and many old couples with their dogs.
Soon, I saw you on the trail you often took from the direction of your home, and I felt my face break into a grin as I stood to meet you. As I look back now, I can see that your returning smile had been forced. When I hugged you that night you tensed in my grasp, and I felt my heart sink to my feet and my stomach hop throat. You’d never tensed like that before. Suddenly every nerve in my body felt hot, including my face which caused tears to spring to my eyes. I was always an easy crier, so I fought them back. I thought to myself, “you’re overreacting”, and I calmed myself down. However, you didn’t reach for my hand as you walked to the bench and all the feelings of worry pulsed through my blood like a red hot river.
When we sat, you wouldn’t look at me. I remember that. You were breaking my heart and you wouldn’t even look me in the eyes as you did it. Looking back now, you were a coward. But in the moment, I thought you were just hurting. I didn’t realize then that you really didn’t care about me or my feelings, you only cared about your own and you were ashamed.
Before you spoke, I handed you the rose and I recall that you bit your lip, hard. I swallowed my feelings down, taking a deep breath. In that moment, I figured that I already knew what was coming. I could’ve never expected what actually came out of your mouth.
“There’s someone else.” You finally released into the silence, and my entire world came crashing down. Automatically, the feelings that I was pushing down came up in a flurry, causing me to go lightheaded, making my vision blurry with spots of black floating before my eyes. Everything you said from there on I only caught in bits and pieces through the cotton that felt stuffed in my ears. I know you tried explaining yourself, but in that moment nothing you said mattered. All I could hear were the repeating words of “there’s someone else”. Theressomeonelesetheressomeoneelsetheres someonelseTHERESSOMEONEELSE. And then I wasn’t breathing right and you were crying because you didn’t think that would happen. I hadn’t gotten this bad in months and months and months.
You waited until the panic melted out of my body and I was drained of any emotion, a puddle of numbness and a shell of the person I’d been merely hours ago. All you told me was sorry. You didn’t even walk me home to make sure that I made it safely after that. You just got up and left, taking the rose and my heart with you. I waited until you were out of sight, and for reasons I can’t explain, I walked in the direction that you left to go home.
As I stumbled down the path, I felt completely blank. I was devoid of all emotion. I remember that I tripped over a root in the road, falling and ripping my jeans and scraping my elbows. But I didn’t even cry. I don’t really remember even feeling it at all, although the next day my skin stung and my body was sore from the impact.
After falling, I just picked myself up and kept going down the path, until I saw it. Laying in the dirt was the rose that I had given you as a gift. The ribbon had come untied, and the petals where you’d dropped it were damaged in the dust of the trail. In a motion I don’t remember, I was on my knees, clutching the flower to my chest, ignoring the prick of the thorns in my hands. I remember shaking, rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably. I held in my hands the last shred of hope of an old man, and the remains of my trampled heart.
I remember that you had asked if we could meet later in the day at about 7 in the morning. This hadn’t occurred to be strange to me at the time, because you’d often try to text me before you started your morning routine and headed off to work. You always told me that was the favorite part of your day, because you hated your job. I asked you where we should meet and you said the quiet bench we often found ourselves at when everything else was too loud and busy. Again, I thought nothing of it. It was one of our favorite meeting spots.
I went through the habits of my day as any other. I attended my job in the morning, school in the afternoon. Nothing felt different than any of my other days. If only I’d known that this night would shake up my life in a way I could’ve never imagined.
On my way home, I ran into an elderly man with wispy white hair that was selling flowers. Well, one flower. It was a beautiful red rose, soft petals and sharp thorns. He told me that he had grown them in his garden and he hated to pick them, but every penny went to restoring his wife’s gravestone. He was running out of flowers to pick and sell and he still had money to raise. He sounded so defeated which broke my heart, so I bought the rose. He thanked me many times, and I told him it was nothing and continued on my way. As soon as I walked through the door into my home, I drew water into a small vase and placed the rose into it. I had decided that I’d tie a ribbon around the stem and I would gift the flower to you later.
At about 6, I left my apartment with the rose to begin the walk to our bench. I couldn’t help but smile, seeing you always made me feel happier and lighter. You were my favorite person, after all. We’d been together nearly four years. Of course we had our ups and downs, but what couples didn’t? Despite everything we’d been through, you still made me so happy up to that point. I made it to the bench before you, so I soaked in the scenery. No matter how many times I came here, it was always as magical as the first. Giant oak trees cradled the small park, so densely planted and with branches so wide, the sky could hardly be seen sometimes. A few walking trails weaved through the oak trees and many families walked on them with their children and many old couples with their dogs.
Soon, I saw you on the trail you often took from the direction of your home, and I felt my face break into a grin as I stood to meet you. As I look back now, I can see that your returning smile had been forced. When I hugged you that night you tensed in my grasp, and I felt my heart sink to my feet and my stomach hop throat. You’d never tensed like that before. Suddenly every nerve in my body felt hot, including my face which caused tears to spring to my eyes. I was always an easy crier, so I fought them back. I thought to myself, “you’re overreacting”, and I calmed myself down. However, you didn’t reach for my hand as you walked to the bench and all the feelings of worry pulsed through my blood like a red hot river.
When we sat, you wouldn’t look at me. I remember that. You were breaking my heart and you wouldn’t even look me in the eyes as you did it. Looking back now, you were a coward. But in the moment, I thought you were just hurting. I didn’t realize then that you really didn’t care about me or my feelings, you only cared about your own and you were ashamed.
Before you spoke, I handed you the rose and I recall that you bit your lip, hard. I swallowed my feelings down, taking a deep breath. In that moment, I figured that I already knew what was coming. I could’ve never expected what actually came out of your mouth.
“There’s someone else.” You finally released into the silence, and my entire world came crashing down. Automatically, the feelings that I was pushing down came up in a flurry, causing me to go lightheaded, making my vision blurry with spots of black floating before my eyes. Everything you said from there on I only caught in bits and pieces through the cotton that felt stuffed in my ears. I know you tried explaining yourself, but in that moment nothing you said mattered. All I could hear were the repeating words of “there’s someone else”. Theressomeonelesetheressomeoneelsetheres someonelseTHERESSOMEONEELSE. And then I wasn’t breathing right and you were crying because you didn’t think that would happen. I hadn’t gotten this bad in months and months and months.
You waited until the panic melted out of my body and I was drained of any emotion, a puddle of numbness and a shell of the person I’d been merely hours ago. All you told me was sorry. You didn’t even walk me home to make sure that I made it safely after that. You just got up and left, taking the rose and my heart with you. I waited until you were out of sight, and for reasons I can’t explain, I walked in the direction that you left to go home.
As I stumbled down the path, I felt completely blank. I was devoid of all emotion. I remember that I tripped over a root in the road, falling and ripping my jeans and scraping my elbows. But I didn’t even cry. I don’t really remember even feeling it at all, although the next day my skin stung and my body was sore from the impact.
After falling, I just picked myself up and kept going down the path, until I saw it. Laying in the dirt was the rose that I had given you as a gift. The ribbon had come untied, and the petals where you’d dropped it were damaged in the dust of the trail. In a motion I don’t remember, I was on my knees, clutching the flower to my chest, ignoring the prick of the thorns in my hands. I remember shaking, rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably. I held in my hands the last shred of hope of an old man, and the remains of my trampled heart.
