Fall of Rome

Since I knew Dylan had absolutely never been to London before, I wondered how many reviews he had read before he had settled on a restaurant for us to eat at, because it was obvious he had the place picked out before we even left LA.

It had a certain ambiance to it that could only be explained by the sense of romance in the air. The lights were low, the people were happy, and it looked like a place where dreams would come true. Our waiter greeted us like he had a thousand couples before – like nothing was wrong with us at all.

The last time Dylan and I had a nice dinner together everything was perfect. It was after we’d gone nearly a month without seeing one another and I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in my life. I was happier with Dylan than I was with anyone else, but this dinner didn’t feel like that one. It felt awkward and forced, and it killed me to know that things weren’t the same.

“What do you think people order in a place like this?” Dylan asked, smiling at me as he picked up his menu.

I tried to ignore the thoughts in my head and act like we were having a normal dinner, but I’m sure my smile looked just as forced as it felt. “Fish and chips, right?”

Dylan chuckled at that, and I’m pretty sure that was the first time I had heard him laugh since he told me. It was a shame. He had such a nice laugh. That laugh was associated with a thousand memories I would live a million times over if given the chance.

“Two fish and chips then?” He asked, smirking at me from behind his menu.

My heart thudded in my chest and I gave him a nervous nod as I folded my menu down in front of me. Though it was barely three sentences, it was the closest he and I had come to a normal conversation since we landed and I wasn’t sure if I was quite ready for that.

When Dylan announced our order to the waiter, he didn’t seem fazed by it in the least bit, and I imagine he got orders like that from stupid Americans so often that it was more annoying than anything else, but neither Dylan nor the waiter seemed to care.

Our food arrived nearly half an hour of awkward silence later, and I didn’t believe that our two plates of salmon and potatoes was what fish and chips actually was, but restaurants like the one we were visiting probably didn’t have traditional fish and chips on their menu.

I suddenly felt so ill that I could hardly eat, and I spent the next fifteen minutes pushing my food around on my plate and trying to make it look like I was actually partaking in our meal. Dylan was halfway through his food before either of us spoke again and his voice was so unfamiliar that I had to remind myself that it was my boyfriend talking and not some stranger on the street.

“What can I do, El?” Dylan asked as he folded his silverware in front of him. “What can I do to make this better?”

So, it appeared that Dylan wasn’t oblivious to the awkwardness, but then again, how could he be? It was more evident than the red color to my cheeks. Than the fact I hadn’t eaten a bite. Than the cracked heart beating in my chest.

I didn’t know what to say to him, because I didn’t know the answer. Lately, it seemed like conversation of any kind was too difficult, so talking about things that actually mattered was next to impossible.

There were so many things that I wanted to say – fifteen of which would probably break Dylan’s heart – but my mouth could only just open and close like I was a fish out of water, stranded on the beach of some unfamiliar land. I bit my lip, looking down at the table as I tried to gather up the courage to say something. Anything.

“Nothing.”

Dylan’s face fell as he looked at me, and I looked up to make eye contact with him. It was obvious by the break in his eyes how much he was hurting, and for some reason I couldn’t ever explain, that killed me.

But, I knew that he probably wasn’t hurting half as badly as I was, because all every time I looked at him, all I could think about was how he had betrayed me, and how I could never, ever forget what he did.

The two of us just stared at each other, and now Dylan was the one who couldn’t seem to form words. His eyes were blinking quickly, like he was lost somewhere in his own head, and there was a long pause before his voice finally came back to him.

“That can’t be true,” Dylan said, out of desperation more than anything else. “There’s gotta be something. Please, El, I know how badly I hurt you and I have to do something to make this right. Please, just tell me what I can do.”

“I don’t know, Dylan,” I breathed out, my words sounding twice as desperate as I felt. “I don’t know much of anything anymore.”

“El, I would do anything in the world to make this better. Just name it, El, and I’ll do it.” A deep breath left Dylan’s lips and they quivered before he spoke again. “You’re the only thing I want in this whole world, El. And I’ll do anything to get you back.”

Dylan let out an exasperated sigh as he gripped onto the table so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He looked as though he was breaking down in front of me, like the fallen tower of a kingdom that was beginning to crumble. His eyes were tight and his feet were beginning to tremble beneath him.

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you, El,” he said, his eyes blinking in a slow, rhythmic motion. “I just want you to love me again.”

My heart sunk down into the bottom of my chest, causing my whole body to quake. My intention was never to make Dylan think that I didn’t love him anymore. If I didn’t love him, I wouldn’t have traveled halfway across the world to be with him in a time when I didn’t want to see him at all. I couldn’t tell him that, though, because feeling that you love someone is much easier than actually telling them.

As if he had some sort of sense for when situations were going south, our waiter approached the table just as Dylan finished speaking to ask us if we wanted any dessert. After we both declined, he dropped the check on the table and told us to pay whenever we were ready. I was more than ready.

Dylan passed the man his credit card and we waited for him to come back without another word. It was as if that small interrupting moment had completely halted our conversation and I wasn’t sure if it would ever pick back up. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to.

The walk back to the hotel didn’t provide the comfort I had expected it would. Instead, it left me with quiet thoughts of what exactly would happen upon our return. There was still the issue of us only having one bed, and I hated to kick Dylan to the sofa even though I knew he would sleep there without me even having to ask.

When we got back to the room, the two of us slipped into our pajamas right away, even though it was barely eight o’clock. If it had been any other time, we would have cuddled on the sofa and watched movies until we were ready to go to sleep, but that wasn’t really an option for me anymore.

I slid under the covers of the only bed, tucking them just above my arms, while Dylan grabbed a spare blanket out of the linen closet and took it to the sofa. I watched him while he moved around, though he didn’t notice, and strangely, my heart ached at the thought of not having him to sleep beside me.

He slumped down onto the sofa, wrapping his blanket around him, and looked up at the ceiling, never once realizing that I was watching him. It didn’t look like he was going to be moving anytime soon, and his eyes stayed fixed on that cream colored plaster. There was no telling when either of us would fall asleep, especially considering the alarming amount of tension in the room.

I pulled my own gaze to the ceiling as well, wondering if looking at the same sight as him would lead our minds to the same thoughts. He let out a deep breath across the room, and I heard him shifting on the sofa a little bit.

“Goodnight, Eleanor. I love you.”

His words cut through me like knives, causing my eyes to immediately burn like they’d been exposed to hot coals. A single tear fell down my cheek, but I stayed silent, hoping he would think I was asleep. He let out another long breath, shifted a bit more, and there wasn’t another word said for the three long hours it took me to finally begin feeling sleepy.

Dylan must’ve thought I’d fallen asleep a long time ago, though, because the sound of him whispering into his phone was unmistakable. The first thought that ran through my mind was that he was talking to that girl, telling her how awful things were going with me and that he couldn’t wait to see her again. I’d always had a problem with going to the worst possible scenario first.

The crack in his voice was clearly audible, as though he was trying his best to hold things in, much the way I had felt recently. I had to strain my hearing to catch what he was saying, while still making sure to stay still so he wouldn’t notice I was awake.

“Fuck, I messed up so bad,” he breathed out, and I could almost make out the sound of him pounding his fist against the sofa. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I – I just want her back, and fuck, I don’t know. I wish I could take it all back. Everything. I never would have gone out that night. I never even would have fucking left Springfield.”

There was a pause while he breathed out, before breathing in deeply again.

“I can’t calm down,” he said, his voice getting a little bit louder until he quieted it again. “I just need El back. I need her.”

A silence fell over Dylan – I assumed while the person on the other end of the line spoke – and he let out a sigh before speaking again.

“I’ll let you know how it goes.”

With that, I heard the sound of Dylan slamming his phone onto the coffee table, while he let out a huge breath. My mind was racing with thoughts of who he could have been on the phone with, because it wouldn’t have made sense for him to be talking with the monster about me. Without much thought, I concluded that it was just one of his friends, which left me focused only on what he said.

It was almost endearing the way he hated himself so much for hurting me, and although it didn’t make things better, I did appreciate the fact that he regretted what he had done. If he had regretted it, that meant he thought it was a mistake, right? And if he thought it was a mistake, then maybe that mean that he wouldn’t do it again.

It wasn’t long after Dylan got off the phone that I felt my mind beginning to exhaust from all the thinking that I was doing, and by the time I felt my eyes begin to flutter closed, I was just thankful to be getting some relief.