You Are Not Alone
breaking down my walls
“Tell me what you meant when you said you missed me. Tell me how you felt when you dared to kiss me.”
The truth was this: I didn’t just miss her. I needed her. She was constantly on my mind. She was always the last thing I thought about at night, the first thought I had upon waking up. I had no idea why I was so consumed with her. She was, in all respects, nothing more than an ordinary girl living in Brooklyn. From her brown eyes to her brown hair, self-manicured nails to her thrift store clothing. She wore minimal makeup and would rather spend her day off sitting on a park bench, lost in a good book.
When I really thought about it, I supposed that was why I couldn’t let her go. She was so simple, so easy to please. I didn’t need to give her the moon because she would settle for a single rose. She didn’t believe in organized religion but she would take the time to listen to the people who presented themselves on her doorstep on Sundays. She volunteered as a referee for children’s soccer on Saturdays. She worked at a locally owned coffee shop and loved it, saying the company she meets there is unlike anything she could gain elsewhere.
I never understood how she could get along with so little. I grew up thinking that if I could make it big and accomplish my dreams, I would be set for life. Her? She has no dreams to accomplish; she lives the day-to-day and says her dreams are too large to ever accomplish, so she never worries about them. She doesn’t waste time on making wishes on eyelashes or waiting for 11:11. She says the only way to get what you want is to grab it for yourself.
I suppose that all added up to my hesitation. It was a rainy Thursday when I happened to find the store she was browsing in. We had met prior, at her shift at the coffee shop, but seeing her in the real world, someone so loveable and approachable, I choked. I stared for a while, mindlessly shifting through a rack of clothes, when she approached me with a laugh.
“Looking for a wedding dress can be so complicated,” she quipped.
Confused, I blinked at her a few times. “You’re getting married?”
She pursed her lips. “No, silly. You are.”
I looked down at my shoes and realized the meaning behind her comments. I was shifting through vintage wedding dresses, as if I had been looking for one to purchase. I played it off as nothing, slyly working it to my advantage. I was slick enough to manage a dinner date out of it, and that was when it all began. We had dinner and dessert, a couple glasses of wine. I learned so many things about her in such a short amount of time, I almost felt overwhelmed. Until I realized, on the walk to her apartment building, that the feeling was actually a budding love, the beginning of a genuine trust of someone I hardly knew.
We stood at her front door for another half an hour, not saying much at that point, just smiling and staring. I think she felt it then, too. Smiling, she told me she had a wonderful time and she was sad she had to head inside – she had an early engagement in the morning. I nodded feebly at that point, thousands of thoughts jumbling in my head that none of them made any sense. She smiled again and turned to put her key in the door. Panicked I would never see her again, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down onto my step.
Her eyes flitted briefly with fear, until I placed my hands on the sides of her face and gently brushed my nose against hers. Her eyes slid shut and I felt her breath and then her lips brush mine. I swallowed hard and pressed my lips against hers, moving in synch with our racing heartbeats. After a moment, she pulled away and smiled, saying she really did have to get some sleep. I stepped down and smiled, promising I’d see her at the coffee shop later. She recited my order with a laugh before ducking inside, out of sight.
Fate brought us together, but sometimes fate works in mysterious ways. She didn’t show up for work the next day, and when I asked her manager where she was, he replied she was on a flight to South Africa. I nodded, trying to ignore the black hole that took over my heart’s place in my chest. As quickly as she came into my life, she was gone. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed about it, upset at the fact she never mentioned it. It would be naïve to say she took my heart and broke it, but she had essentially done just that. I had never fallen so fast, so hard, as I had when I met her.
Life had changed when she left. I realized how precious life really is, and how important it is to cherish every second I’m given. I ended filling a notebook of songs for this one girl alone. Most of my friends called me crazy for it, but it was all I knew.
I would have waited for her, if only she had let me know she was leaving.
“Martin?”
I turned my head and smiled at the girl lying next to me. I looked into her brown eyes, admired her brown hair. She placed her small hand on my cheek and smiled.
“What are you thinking about?” she questioned.
“The day you stole my heart, the moment you broke it, and the second you glued it back together,” I replied, leaning over to lightly kiss her forehead.
Like I said, fate works in mysterious ways. As quickly as she left, she came back to me.
The truth was this: I didn’t just miss her. I needed her. She was constantly on my mind. She was always the last thing I thought about at night, the first thought I had upon waking up. I had no idea why I was so consumed with her. She was, in all respects, nothing more than an ordinary girl living in Brooklyn. From her brown eyes to her brown hair, self-manicured nails to her thrift store clothing. She wore minimal makeup and would rather spend her day off sitting on a park bench, lost in a good book.
When I really thought about it, I supposed that was why I couldn’t let her go. She was so simple, so easy to please. I didn’t need to give her the moon because she would settle for a single rose. She didn’t believe in organized religion but she would take the time to listen to the people who presented themselves on her doorstep on Sundays. She volunteered as a referee for children’s soccer on Saturdays. She worked at a locally owned coffee shop and loved it, saying the company she meets there is unlike anything she could gain elsewhere.
I never understood how she could get along with so little. I grew up thinking that if I could make it big and accomplish my dreams, I would be set for life. Her? She has no dreams to accomplish; she lives the day-to-day and says her dreams are too large to ever accomplish, so she never worries about them. She doesn’t waste time on making wishes on eyelashes or waiting for 11:11. She says the only way to get what you want is to grab it for yourself.
I suppose that all added up to my hesitation. It was a rainy Thursday when I happened to find the store she was browsing in. We had met prior, at her shift at the coffee shop, but seeing her in the real world, someone so loveable and approachable, I choked. I stared for a while, mindlessly shifting through a rack of clothes, when she approached me with a laugh.
“Looking for a wedding dress can be so complicated,” she quipped.
Confused, I blinked at her a few times. “You’re getting married?”
She pursed her lips. “No, silly. You are.”
I looked down at my shoes and realized the meaning behind her comments. I was shifting through vintage wedding dresses, as if I had been looking for one to purchase. I played it off as nothing, slyly working it to my advantage. I was slick enough to manage a dinner date out of it, and that was when it all began. We had dinner and dessert, a couple glasses of wine. I learned so many things about her in such a short amount of time, I almost felt overwhelmed. Until I realized, on the walk to her apartment building, that the feeling was actually a budding love, the beginning of a genuine trust of someone I hardly knew.
We stood at her front door for another half an hour, not saying much at that point, just smiling and staring. I think she felt it then, too. Smiling, she told me she had a wonderful time and she was sad she had to head inside – she had an early engagement in the morning. I nodded feebly at that point, thousands of thoughts jumbling in my head that none of them made any sense. She smiled again and turned to put her key in the door. Panicked I would never see her again, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down onto my step.
Her eyes flitted briefly with fear, until I placed my hands on the sides of her face and gently brushed my nose against hers. Her eyes slid shut and I felt her breath and then her lips brush mine. I swallowed hard and pressed my lips against hers, moving in synch with our racing heartbeats. After a moment, she pulled away and smiled, saying she really did have to get some sleep. I stepped down and smiled, promising I’d see her at the coffee shop later. She recited my order with a laugh before ducking inside, out of sight.
Fate brought us together, but sometimes fate works in mysterious ways. She didn’t show up for work the next day, and when I asked her manager where she was, he replied she was on a flight to South Africa. I nodded, trying to ignore the black hole that took over my heart’s place in my chest. As quickly as she came into my life, she was gone. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed about it, upset at the fact she never mentioned it. It would be naïve to say she took my heart and broke it, but she had essentially done just that. I had never fallen so fast, so hard, as I had when I met her.
Life had changed when she left. I realized how precious life really is, and how important it is to cherish every second I’m given. I ended filling a notebook of songs for this one girl alone. Most of my friends called me crazy for it, but it was all I knew.
I would have waited for her, if only she had let me know she was leaving.
“Martin?”
I turned my head and smiled at the girl lying next to me. I looked into her brown eyes, admired her brown hair. She placed her small hand on my cheek and smiled.
“What are you thinking about?” she questioned.
“The day you stole my heart, the moment you broke it, and the second you glued it back together,” I replied, leaning over to lightly kiss her forehead.
Like I said, fate works in mysterious ways. As quickly as she left, she came back to me.