I called last night.
I was never a drunk dialer before you.
What is it about you?
There’s always a chance you’ll answer.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Just like I tell myself there’s a chance I’ll see you on the street.
Remember that time?
I wasn’t paying attention.
I didn’t see you
walking straight towards me.
You ran up,
grabbed my face,
gave me the quickest, fiercest kiss
to which my response was to squeal
with surprise and delight.
And then you were gone.
It was a moment in the woods
as Sondheim would say.
People around us thought you were crazy.
I thought you were amazing.
You didn’t answer.
I’ve been told the worst thing you can do to someone is ignore them.
I tell myself it’s for the best.
I tell myself there’s some part of you that still cares about me.
I tell myself that’s why you ignore me.
I tell myself that you’re doing what’s best for us.
I tell myself that there’s nothing more to say.
I tell myself it’s done.
I tell myself to move on.
I tell myself to stop.
But when’s the last time you took your own advice?
60 days without you.
A lot can happen in 60 days.
What do you want, Kels?
That was the question you’d always ask me.
Whatever you want.
That was the response.
If I was the one responding, it was because I didn’t want to make a choice.
I was afraid of making the wrong choice.
Choosing the wrong restaurant
Or the wrong glass of wine
Or the wrong dessert.
I don’t think you even like dessert that much
But we always ordered dessert
Because you know I loved it.
I don’t love it that much anymore.
In case you were wondering.
If you were the one responding, it was because you were trying so hard to make me happy.
I couldn’t have made the wrong choice.
You’d sit down at any restaurant,
Drink any glass of wine
Share any dessert
As long as it was with me.
Because you wanted me to have whatever I wanted.
Whatever I want.
It looks so simple when you write it out.
It’s been 54 days.
And I can feel it happening.
It’s in the small things.
Like the pint of key lime gelato I randomly bought for you.
Because it’s your favorite.
Because our late night routine often included eating gelato and bitching about work.
Well, I guess I would bitch. You would just hold me and laugh with me and tell me it’s not a big deal and that I’m the best little waitress ever. And then I’d bitch about how I wish we still worked together because we worked brilliantly together and having you there made everything better. It meant I got guaranteed time with you where we were working towards a common goal. Even if that goal was just turning the tables. We were never more in-sync than we were during a busy service and we made an awesome team.
So I have this pint of gelato still in my freezer.
Key lime isn’t my favorite.
But I can’t bring myself to throw away perfectly good gelato.
There’s obviously more to it than my fear of wasting gelato.
Whatever it is,
It’s starting to creep out.
Because every time I have opened the freezer for the past 54 days,
You’re in my freezer.
I’ve been so good.
I’ve been pushing forward.
Now I look around and start seeing you in places I forgot.
We never made a huge deal out of Christmas. I remember the night we celebrated our first Christmas. December 18, 2015. I only know the date because I took a picture of you. It was the first picture I’d ever taken of you even though we’d been dating for a few months and it was always my favorite. I sent it to my parents and made it your contact photo. If you ever call me, this is the picture that will pop up on my screen because I haven’t gotten around to deleting your contact yet. And while my gift was purely practical, I remember your gift was much more sentimental. It was a West Elm piggy bank. At work, everyone called me a truffle pig because I sold white truffles on the reg. I thought it was the most perfect thing and when I read the card that came with it I cried. I hadn’t cried opening a gift since I got an iPod when I was nine.
So the piggy bank is sitting on my desk next to my bed.
I keep it there because I still use it.
Because I can’t bring myself to throw away a perfectly good piggy bank.
There’s obviously more to it than the issue of relocating all my loose change.
Whatever it is,
It’s trying to break out of me.
Because today, after 54 days, I look at that stupid piggy bank
And I see you.
I’ve been thinking about you.
I miss you.
Is that ok.
I just miss you.
But I think it’s happening.