The Way I Loved You

I sat on the curb waiting for my taxi, across from the house I’ve called home for almost a year. The house was massive – definitely larger than what two people needed. The elegant two-storey house was covered in red bricks that framed many windows. I liked natural light.

I stared at the now empty driveway. It was no stranger to being filled with luxury sports cars and expensive SUV’s of friends who would attend the numerous gatherings that were held at this very house.

Following the path to the top of the driveway was a double attached garage that housed my Jeep. Well, I guess it wasn’t really mine since I didn’t buy it, but it was a gift and it was my baby. The empty spot next to it belonged to a flashy black sports car.

I dragged my eyes to the front door where a Christmas wreath was hanging. It was only mid October, but to me, it was never too early to start Christmas decorations. The door itself was fire engine red. Memories of being pressed up against that door on the night of my twenty first birthday invaded my mind. It was the night of my very first kiss.

Blinking away those memories, I looked up at the large window on the second level. I spent many nights looking out that window. Most of the time I was waiting for him to come home. Other days, I’d be trying to cool down after an argument, sometimes trying to figure out why we were fighting to begin with.

The room on the other side of that window held many memories. Most of them happy. Like my second kiss. And falling in love with the man I shared that room with.

I remember the day he let it slip that he loved me, and him looking terrified that I wouldn’t return the sentiment. I did, of course. I never let him forget that he was the one to say it first.

I remember the first time we made love. And the second. And the third. And every single time after that.

I remember our first real fight. And I remember all the tears I shed that night, soaking the pillow I clutched to my face, trying to muffle my sobs.

Taking a deep breath, I stared at the house as a whole.

When I first moved in, it was practically empty. Together, we not only filled it with furniture and decorations, but memories too. It was our home – we made it our home.

The house represented so many things.

Happiness. Love. Anger. Passion.

Tears of both joy and despair. Screams of excitement, pleasure, or sometimes even rage.

The past year has been a rollercoaster - filled with the highest of highs, and sometimes disastrous lows.

A car came around the corner, lights shining towards me. It pulled to a stop right in front of me, blocking the majority of the house from my view. The cab was finally here.

“Hello, miss. I’m assuming you’re the one who called for a cab,” he said, stepping out of the car, nodding towards my suitcase and backpack sitting beside me.

I slowly stood up, second-guessing my decision. The house returned to my view and reminded me of why I was doing this.

I turned to face the driver. “Yah, that would be me.”

He smiled. “May I?” he asked, gesturing towards my baggage.

“Oh. Of course.”

I took a seat in the cab as he loaded my luggage, and stared at the house yet again.

“Where to, Miss?” the cab driver asked, resuming his place behind the wheel.

I looked away from the house and said, “Pittsburgh International, please.”

He nodded, and set off towards my instructed destination.

I willed myself to not look back, but I couldn’t help it. I turned around to take one last glance at the house I called home. However, it was too late. It was already out of view.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to no one in particular, but to everything I thought I knew.