A Book I'm Going to Write

Turning Points

"Dad, I'm going to Molly's house for a little." I lie through my teeth.
But my father doesn't question it, doesn't even think twice before saying,"Okay, be safe."

"Be safe." If only he knew how ironic those words were in the given moment. If only he knew my actual destination.
I get in the car and I drive to him.

My heart is in my stomach, my body tingling with nervous excitement. I'm used to this feeling by now; this sober intoxication, this heavy anticipation, this open ended possibility.

There he is- always the same. His hair is longer now, just past his ears. I can tell that he's been sleeping by the way it sticks out in random places. He's got that same old goofy smile, turned up at the corners to expose just the top layer of his teeth. I feel like I can smell his skin from the door way and all I want to do is press my face into the crevice of his neck, inhaling him with every kiss.

So easily we fall back together. His lips find mine with magnetic force, and it is frighteningly all too familiar. And it makes me sick, the familiarity of it all.

I don't want it to end; I dread the moment that his hands leave their place entangled in my hair, the moment his eyes break my gaze to look blankly at the ceiling once again, the moment where my seemingly weightless body is sent crashing down to reality.

Once again I'll have to leave him, leave his arms, unsure of when and if I'll see him again.
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The cold air smacks me in the face as soon as I walk out of the front door into the night. Reality washes over me. I drive as though I know where I am going, as though there isn't a GPS perched in my hand that grips the steering wheel. The turns, left and right, come naturally to me- like its all pre-programmed, like its second nature.

"Why do we do this?" I whisper into his neck. His eyes are shut, face calm, as I run my left hand back and forth along his bare chest. "I don't know."
"What is the point?" I ask. My voice sounds so little, so timid and scared as though I just barely muster enough energy and courage to spit the words out. "I don't know, is there one?"
"When does it end?"
"You tell me," he responds. And this really gets me. As if I have any say, any control, in the matter. As if its not always me wanting to hear from him, to see if he still wants me, waiting to see whether he'll continue us or end it.
"I guess when we find someone else," I respond, breaking the silence. I want to say "when you find someone else, someone better" but I hold back.
"We'll see," is all he says. I'm not sure what exactly it means.

And I kiss his cheek goodbye, and I tell him how happy I am that we are finally friends- that we have finally reached this point. And I mean it all, every word.

I feel relief. For once my head isn't spinning in 5 different directions. My heart is not breaking inside my chest, my body does not feel numb with pain. Because I no longer have to create and imagine the words he respond to everything I've wanted to ask him. I know his answers, and I finally had the courage to ask the questions to get them.

I praise myself for my ability to expect the very worst. I had imagined scenarios of him refusing to answer my questions, of getting angry with me for even having asked them. I imagined scenarios where I would walk out only to never hear from him again. I imagined myself breaking down in tears, falling apart in the days to follow as what was left of my heart shut down. None of these were the case. I held myself up with dignity, I remained composed, I left without being asked to. His response was far nicer than I expected it to be, I am far stronger than I had expected myself to be.

I am in love with him, that is still very clearly the case. It has also become clear that he does not share the same feelings, not anymore. I'm not devastated, not torn up about it. It is what it is and at least now I know for sure. I know I'll be ok.

Its 1:00 am, I drive in silence.