Week three - Window
With a heavy sigh I leaned my head against the window. It was a beautiful evening, wonderful actually. There was nothing quite like watching the sun set through the passing trees. The soft hum of the car and the gentle static of the radio. If it wasn't for the storm raging inside my heart, I might've enjoyed all these beautiful things. Much like I always did as we passed here several times a week. I liked it best on warm days, when Jake would crank the windows down and let the warm breeze play with our hair. I had gotten so used to this road, these moments. Us. I wanted to scream, shout, rage. But I did nothing. My head against the cool glass of the window and my eyes miles away. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't talk to him. And even if I could, there was no love in his eyes anymore and no words to say. Just the radio and the car. I tried to convince myself it was better like this. That it was better not to utter any words of apology, or shoot him looks that would convey how much I cared for him. For us. I knew I couldn't convince a mind that didn't want to be convinced but I couldn't help but fantasize about it. About this trip. How it could have been like it always was. I didn't want to dwell on the past, I knew it wouldn't help, but this was a literal trip down memory lane. I briefly wondered if Jake shared my sentimental connection to this road. If his heart melted when we passed the road diner where we first shared a kiss. Or if he shuddered when we passed the road sign where we almost hit a deer. If he shared all the feelings that were scattered around this damned road like forgotten mementos. I tried to let my rational mind rule and force away all the feelings but I knew it was a lost cause. It would be weeks, months even before I could finally rationalize everything. The last golden rays of sunlight disappeared, and we were engulfed blues and blacks. If it weren't for my heartbreak I'd have guffawed at the ridiculous symbolical meaning it held. Exit 25. A few more minutes. Jake took a right and we left the highway. Should I chance a glance in his direction? Just to take in the familiarity of it all. Instead I watched the houses that we now passed. Suburban homes. I tried to envision the families that lived in these houses, their lives, their laughter and their heartbreak. I tried to place myself in their shoes, just to be rid of my own. Wishful thinking. The houses were just houses, the people were just people and the only thing that mattered was my shattered heart. I closed my eyes and the car slowed down. I counted the seconds. Twenty before the car came to a halt. Jake kept the car running. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, suddenly craving to utter one single word.
'Moira, I can't...'
Of course he couldn't. Suddenly I felt angry. He could, he just didn't want to. He knew why and that was all that mattered. He had the tools to get his closure, it was easier for him if he didn't have to hand me mine. Of course. I took a deep breath. Two, three. I imagined how I turned to face him and slapped him straight into the next century while cursing and ranting. I imagined how pushed open the door, stormed out and ran straight into the comfort of my home. I imagined kissing him goodbye. Like we always did. I imagined it all. The different possibilities flashed through my mind like wildfire but I couldn't settle for any of them. There was no right choice, no valid option. I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the door slowly. I got out of the car in much the same way my late grandfather would've. Slow, unsure and unwilling. The minutes felt like hours but I finally got out of the car, half expecting Jake to speak up. He didn't, I didn't either. The door slipped from my grasp and closed with dull thud. I made it halfway across the lawn, facing my front door, before stopping. Maybe just one last look? I spun around in a hurry, only to see the taillights of the car disappear around the corner.
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