Dear John

Instead of his forest-like orbs, what I see is a pure blue sky hovering above me and a shiny Sun decorating it –as if it were a beauty mark– that makes my eyes water from its brightness. There's also a now turned off streetlight in my field of vision.

I sit up and I notice I've fallen asleep on a bench. But it isn't just any bench; it's the bench where I met him.

I look around me.

Was that all a dream? It felt like it.

I look down to my left and notice that, next to where my hand rests, my name is written with a sharpie and before it, on the same plank of the wooden bench, are his initials carved messily –the best he could with his car keys.

I smile as I trace the five letters. I remember the day he did this.

Ⓜ

"Taking the break without me, huh?" John asked, sounding uncomfortable for the first time since I met him.

I tried looking up at him with a smile. I couldn't look at his eyes, so I tried looking at his nose, his lips, his cheekbones. Nothing worked, I simply couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I fake-smiled at a spot right next to his head.

"I was looking for you and I couldn't find you. I thought you might have left." I tried to make that come out convincing. He just nodded and sat on his usual spot next to me. I passed him the pack of cigarettes and the lighter trying to keep my hands from shaking.
I heard the click of the lighter, the erupting of the flames, the sound of him inhaling the cancer. He gave me back my American Spirit, obviously not recallng that it was his turn to invite.

Why did I even care about that then? I wanted him gone, far away from me. Then again, I also wanted him to stay. To stay and tell me of this new band he had listened to or this really funny story from his High School years or just talk about anything like religion, art or the weather.

However, there was only silence.

The music, as usual, could still be heard from the outside and his keys jingled next to my hand as he scratched the wooden bench but neither of us said a word for the longest time. When I had finished smoking the first cigarette I took out another one and then another.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye and I wanted to hit myself for doing so. He was wearing a white v-neck that showed most of his chest tattoo. His own lyrics printed permanently on his skin. Beautiful lyrics at that.
I closed my eyes shut and looked to the opposite side.

"I have to go….uhm…Jackie was looking for me…Yeah," I said as I got up, failing at trying to make it sound like the truth.

"Liz, wait." He said just as I was beginning to walk away.

Why? Why? Why?

I turned around.

"Yeah?"

"I know you saw it." My heart stopped and my face heated up. My hands started shaking again so I held the hem of my shirt tightly, hoping that would conceal it.

"I–what? I don't– I have no idea what you're saying."

"Lizzie, please." Lizzie?Lizzie? Since when did he call me Lizzie? Why the hell was he calling me Lizzie now?

"Yeah, okay…I did see it. I apologize. I won't tell anyone." I still didn't look at him, I still hadn't let go of the hem of my shirt and I was still lying. "I have to go now, though." With that, I resumed my walking away from him. I wished I didn't have to do it. I wished I was strong enough to stay next to him and enjoy his company like always. I wish he hadn't kissed Ashley.
The worst part was that I knew she was a good girl and she deserved him and…

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

"I'm sorry."

The words that left his lips reached my ears in slow motion.

I
'
m
s
o
r
r
y

When my brain finally processed them, I abruptly stopped walking.
I debated for a couple of seconds –that felt like minutes– if I should turn around and, when I did, I met his tall self standing and his tree-colored eyes staring through me. This time, I couldn't look away.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know what he was saying sorry for. Sorry for me not being good enough?

"What?"

"I kissed the wrong girl." I still didn't get what he was saying. Was he referring to the kiss he gave me before he left?

"I don't– I have to go," that was all too hard to take in. I was feeling like shit and I wasn't lying. I really had to leave to think it all through. I, once again, began walking quickly away but his hand caught my arm.

Damn him and his long legs.

"Liz, let me explain." My gaze was glued to the ground. My eyes were beginning to well up again and I didn't want him to see it. I just shook my head, hoping that would make him let go. "Liz."

I pursed my lips and for a while we stayed in that position. His grip was tight on my arm…and warm. I needed him to let me go.
I looked up at him, eyes glassy.

"Please let go of me, John." He looked at my eyes for a while, like he was trying to find some mischievous glow in them, hoping that I was just joking. But, when he found none of that, he nodded softly and carefully released my arm.
I stared at the oh-so-interesting ground again before finally walking back inside the house, leaving him standing there, right next to that goddamn bench.

As soon as I entered Jackie's house I went to look for her and asked her to give me the keys to her bedroom. She asked me about fifty times what was wrong and about fifty times I had to answer her "I'll tell you later" until she finally gave me the goddamn keys.
I had never been so glad she locked all the bedrooms upstairs like I was that night. I really needed to be by myself and think and (at least try) to sleep