Across the Table

I sat on the other side of the table. You were physically present, but you weren't there; your eyes were empty and your voice was flat. We were sitting in the McDonald's by the park; we didn't order anything, we never did. It was a mid-January day, the joy from Christmas had worn off and now it was just cold.

Do you remember when we came here for my birthday?" I asked. "We brought a cake and everything and didn't buy a thing from the menu, they didn't even care.

You had a ghost of a smile on your face as you managed to say one word;

Yeah…

I looked outside to the pitch-black night and suggested that we go home. We stepped outside and were immediately slapped in the face by the cold wind. I pulled my scarf closer while you looked at your feet and shuffled along.

I always liked the city at night, it's so much more alive, it's like the people are the city's heartbeat and as long as we're here then the heart keeps on beating.

You struggled to provide a weak smile, but it quickly disappeared. Sometimes I felt like I was talking to a wall.

I started to wonder how this happened; you used to have a glow in your eyes and bright smile on your face, but as I looked at you now, you looked as if you hadn't smiled in your life.

We sat in the bus shelter in silence. When the bus finally pulled up; you followed me onto the bus and sat down next to me.

I never liked riding buses in the dark, they're like little glowing pods swallowing people up and then spitting them back out.

You didn't even acknowledge that I had said anything; you just looked out the window into the dark. I worried about you, a lot, but I was never really good with talking about things that needed to be said.

The bus came to my stop, but I couldn't bring myself to get off, I didn't know why, but I just knew that I couldn't.

I think I'll ride to your stop and then turn around and go home, I don't feel like going home quite yet.

I said this more to myself than anyone else.

We continued to ride in silence; I tried to think up things to say to you, but kept coming up blank. We got off the bus and walked to your house, passing the school where we used to go together; passing the river that we once fell into; passing the store where we used to buy M&M's every day after school. I wanted to remind you about these memories, to see if you would smile at least a little, but I knew in my heart that you wouldn't even respond, so I stayed silent.

We arrived at your front porch and you unlocked the door to go inside, you sort of turned back to look at me as if you wanted to say something, you were silent, but I saw it. I saw the feeling I knew far too well escape from your eyes, I saw the hurt I felt far too often, I saw the plea I had given far too many times. And I knew that I couldn't leave.

I'll understand more than you think.

You opened the door a bit wider and I followed you into your house and sat across from you at the kitchen table.