Save Me

I sit in the café waiting, waiting. I didn’t know he’d keep me waiting. Wasn’t that funny? Never thought he was the type. Seemed he was. Didn’t he know you can become addicted to people? I’m at the withdrawal stage now. I need my hit. The waitress asks again if I’m ready to order, I draw a look of stealth hatred. I don’t have to talk. I don’t want to. Free country. Freedom of speech, freedom of thought. I wondered about that. Are our thoughts free? Who makes them? Who dictates them? Some thoughts are not meant to be right, but then who’s to stop us thinking? You can think of killing the person next to you on the bus. On the train. In the street. No one will find out. You can think about killing the blonde waitress with manicured nails tapping her notepad impatiently. Tell her I’m waiting. Like she doesn’t know. Hide my scubby nails.
I think about all this while he makes me wait. He makes me wait. It’s not nice, making people do things. I plan what to say when he arrives. How to cut him down when he tries to speak. I’m the guilt you’ll feel for weeks. I like that one.  Then I’ll leave. Flounce. Bounce, something dramatic. But bouncing would only work if I had long wavy hair like the waitress does. No, you can’t bounce out of a room with short stubby hair like mine. Still, I’ll do my best to strut my stuff out of there while he chews his nails, guilt soaked heart wrenching. And then he’ll follow, I’ll lure him into a conveniently local side street. There was bound to be one around, there always is when thoughts like these arise.
Of course it’s not to be. Your classic no-show. Fucker. I’m cool with it though. Considering. The hand touching, the love-notes, the secret phone calls in the dead of the night. The way he looked so damn fine in the morning. What the hell. Life’s too short to live it just for him. I will be calm, I will be collected, soldier on. As long as I get out of this shit-hole café in one piece, dignified, righteous, worthy. Ha. All the things I’m not.
I move slowly from my chair at first. The weight of shame, such a burden to carry. Then I feel the eyes upon me, and my movements become hurried, uncomfortable, faltering. I break free into the fresh air of the street. Outside. I feel insides-out. I’ve been turned outsides-in. I never thought he would be a no-show. Could he have known?
I run my finger along the smooth blade of the knife in my skirt pocket. My little friend, my little helper. Who was there to tell him? Any others had gone, long gone. Never uttered another breath let alone word. It was my little secret and he couldn’t have guessed. The knife splits my skin, my finger bleeds. I don’t’ care. Something has changed. I am no longer in control. He made this happen, he changed the way it went. I walk, and walk. I know I have a direction, I just don’t know what is compelling me to go there. I need help, yes. Someone is marking out my steps, I didn’t ask for this help.
I see the kind lady smile at me. She has a kind voice. She will do. All the better to lure you in with.
It shouldn’t have ended like this. It should have ended with him. Just him.
I did see him again. I never thought I would. Never ever. He looked slightly different, slightly changed, but still had the same style that had drawn my eye to him that very first night. I smiled at him.
He didn’t recognise me. I almost fell back into that black hole right there, right then. But instead I got angry.
I could have ended him, long ago. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. I saved him. Saved him from myself. I had figured it all by now. I’d obviously leaked some signs of what I was capable of back then. He was smart. No wonder he didn’t show.
He saw my angry face. Realization flashed before me. He did remember, he was just pretending. Always did have an open face. He couldn’t hide it. My eyes lured him to talk.
‘Why all the anger?’ he asked sarcastically.
‘I saved you.’ I hissed at him, trying to diffuse the bomb inside me.
‘No.’ he said, simply. ‘Other way about.’
I stared at him until he walked away. He left me there, he left me. I waited…waited. It sunk in eventually. I saved him, he saved me. We saved each other. We must have cared something for each other.
As I blinked through my thoughts I saw that he was back. He looked different. Like the old him. ‘You look better. I hope I’ll see you again,’ was all he said.
As he retreated, I realised I was fine with him going. Fine, perfectly fine. Something told me I would get a chance to reply one day.
The End.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Joel Latterell says:

    Normally I don’t like stories like this but I really liked the stream of consciousness flow of it.

    Liked by 1 person

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