Pass the World

One moment I loved him, the next I simply didn’t. Conan was faithful, and then he wasn’t. The two were directly linked, unsurprisingly.

He told me and I couldn’t say anything at all. The sun bore down on us both and I could tell that something was wrong. He held my hand, and his was sweaty. Mine was cold, expectant.

He’d taken me to the park to break the news, where we’d first met. The grass was too long and still wet with dew so we sat on the bench, which was also damp. I could feel the moisture soak through my jeans but I stayed put. I stayed there holding his stupid hand as he said it.

“I’m so sorry Katherine,” he paused and his brown eyes sank, watching the floor instead of me, “I-I wish I could take it back, but I cheated.”

He explained the situation, even though really I didn’t want to hear it. He’d been dating someone else for a week. We’d been together for nine months, and for a week of that time he was seeing her. Megan, or something. He gave me her number if I wanted to talk to her but I didn’t. She didn’t know he was taken. It was a long-distance thing. I wanted to vomit the news back up, but I couldn’t. I shifted slightly on the bench and tried to make sense of my thoughts.

He was someone else’s boyfriend for a week. His heart was someone else’s, and however temporary it was it still hurt.

There were other people in the park too, other people going about their lives. One woman jogged across the grass. A pair of old men sat on a bench on the other side of the field, almost parallel to us, reading their newspapers. Normal morning routines, ticking away second by second.

“You never call me Katherine,” I said eventually. I ran a hand through my hair and when I pulled it away there was a short blonde strand wrapped around my fingers. “My name’s not Katherine, it’s Kat.”

“I’m sorry.”

I yanked my other hand away from his and cradled it in my own lap. I could feel my heart trickling away, going cold.

“Kat, look at me,” he whispered, and I did. I looked up at him and I realized that I felt nothing.

Time was different, but I didn’t work that out until later. I didn’t say anything else to Conan that day, I couldn’t. I sat there on that bench until he left and then I sat there some more. Eventually I walked home I assume, although I don’t remember. I just remember that I looked up and my green bedroom walls were staring back at me.

He’d left me messages telling me to “take as much time” as I needed, but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t, not then. I didn’t know anything. Everything I thought was real felt like a blur, and I started to question whether completely irrelevant things were real.

The only thing I knew was that I couldn’t leave him. If I’d fallen in love like one falls asleep, then the dreaming stage was over. I knew this.

Everything was in two categories. Time was in two boxes, “before” and “after”. The moments that slowly slipped past went into the “after” set, painful and new. I was desperate to stay with him, but desperate to be true to myself.

It’s been a month since that morning and I still don’t know. I haven’t told anyone and that’s hard too, we’re doing good though. Maybe this is childish because I’m only young but I don’t think I care. I can’t fall in love with him like I did before, it’s slower. More careful. It’s better.

There isn't a moral to this story. I think people hedge normal stories into fables too often and that's not right. I'm still with Conan, and that might not be the "right" decision, but what does that matter? My life doesn't serve as a warning to others. Life is messy at times, love breaks your heart. But more than anything else, love just is.