prelude
It had been nearly two days since she reached out to me (in an admitted moment of weakness) during the late hours of the night and set my mind on edge once more. Heartbreak is perhaps easier to deal with when one knows in advance that it will never work out. So why reach out to me like this? ”It could have been” is, of course, the saddest of words - but I knew that it was not true between her and I. Yet I must contend with the lingering suspicious that perhaps it is.
It was clear from the beginning that a spark was there. But it was at all the wrong times - she was with someone and moving far, far away in a matter of weeks. And yet, as such things do, it started to become more intense with a shocking rapidity. And for once, this was a good person, with similar interests and beliefs as I. Perhaps even sane. It was, of course, too good to be true - but sweet nonetheless. Sweet perhaps because the weight of “making it work” was not an issue since I knew she would be leaving.
But then came the confessions in the dark of the decision she was grappling with. To go or to stay. To leave and start anew. Of course, I could have swept her up in my arms and implored her to stay with me and done the myriad other love-story staples. I couldn’t let this be anything but her decision, however. I couldn’t accept the weight of having led her to make a bad choice. Truthfully, we hadn’t known each other very long at all. How could I know whether this was just a fleeting crush or something more? While the question remains, I would not have wanted to accept that she had given up so much for nothing to have come of it.
It was raining when I woke up this morning, and under the pitter-pat of raindrops on a green umbrella I walked to class. The roof of Tate amplified the sound into a dull roar that reverberated around the students sipping coffee and striving to refresh their tired minds before their morning exams (myself, of course, included).
After class I stepped off the bus and walked to Lake Herrick, nearly overflowing with the quiet rainfall. I stood on the banks and listened to the sound of water upon water. With the lake’s edge lapping higher and higher over the leather of my boots, I waited for my regrets to wash away.
