Promise Me This; Never Let Go

Something strange is going on. After I told Franchesa about the actions of her husband, she didn't scream, cry, or show anger. She simply walked into the bathroom, stayed there for 15 minutes, and came back out, composed and poised.

It was gnawing at me that she didn't react the way I expected of her. She sat down on the plush couch next to me, not uttering a single word. I wanted to touch her cheek, shoulder, arm, hand, something to know if I should head for cover or not. I settled for talking to her in a soft whisper.

"Fran, do I make your life miserable?" I asked, lips taut. Boy, that wasn't a wonderful question to ask. I'm trying to calm her down, not rile her up.

"What? How could you if I never saw you in two years?" she questioned with her perfect eyebrow arched.

"So? You could've been living off memories."

This was the make or break moment. If she responded in a negative way, that would mean I was right in assuming that I made her life miserable. If she answered positively, then I have no idea and I'll have to listen to what she says.

"Matt," Fran began earnestly, "whatever happened in the past, it happened. I ended up with Rafael so that's it."

That was positive, but not in the way I wanted. I couldn't help but to feel a flare of anger. "How could you say that? WE could've been together. You would be fucking happy with me, not him!"

"Yeah well I wanted that happiness with you but never once did you tell me how you felt. You waited until after I got married. Do you know how humiliating AND awful I felt? No, you don't at all because you have horrible timing."

"I tried to tell you!" I yelled, shaking my hands at her. "But I saw how happy you were with him!"

She growled, she literally growled. "It doesn't matter! Best friends never hide things from each other! You should've told me anyways!"

"Oh like when you told me you were in love with me when you were wasted?"

Oh shit, did I just say that? I stood on my toes; she did the same. I was never supposed to let that slip. I hate when I'm angry! I say things I shouldn't.

Wonderful, she's confused, but I saw the quick recovery.

"I didn't even know I said that to you. Besides, yeah I was in love with you-"

Was?

"-but I didn't want to get hurt!"

There was so much screaming from the both of us. I wanted it to stop already, but I knew once we got started, we wouldn't stop until we really hurt each other. It was never the best approach, but it was the only one we could understand.

I took a long breath, fooling her into thinking I was going to submit before I raged on. "What the fuck are you talking about? And don't try playing the victim here! You're just at fault as me!"

"I was scared if an "us" did happen and then we broke up, I lose my best friend. You knew I liked you! I know you're not that stupid! You had your chance years ago and you never took it." She sighed. "Matt, I don't know."

I don't know? "I don't know" is never good. Come on, I wanted to yell more. Franchesa giving up is not a good sign. It's a sign that I defeated her. And when do I ever do that?

"Okay. Franchesa Isabella Heras," I sighed, "I have wanted you to be mine since sophomore year of high school." I reached for both of her hands, pleasantly surprised she let me hold her hands. "When you didn't notice, I would stare at you and slap myself for not getting to you first. The summer after junior year, I fell in love with you at the beach. Do you remember that day? It was only the two of us. Since then, I always pictured my life with only you beside me. I AM STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU."

"Matty...I-I-"

"I'll leave you so you can think. Tell me when the butterflies in your stomach almost make you feel sick, when that light headed feeling makes you weak and you want me there to catch you before you fall, and when you smile one specific smile because you finally realized you're in love with me too. And yes, you have different smiles. I'm not going to explain them but, you have one special smile whenever I make you smile. Just think about it."

I didn't even look at her before I headed for the door. I think I broke down—without the tears—when I sat in my car. I poured my heart out to her and she didn't come close to saying the same.

This seemed to happen a lot. We have some type of heart-to-heart, and then I leave for whichever reason. It always happens. I don't want it to, but it does and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I'm afraid of what she will say next. I'd rather she know exactly how I feel rather than I know of what she feels. I don't want to feel any more heartache. I did know this though; I don't think I'm going back to see her for a long time.