an attempt at a start...

The silence of the room echoed throughout the small apartment. There were faint marks left behind of pictures that once hung on the wall and imprints pressed into the Berber carpet of where the furniture once stood. Relief and sadness filled my heart, while doubt continued to rear its ugly head in my mind. Questions of "what was I doing?" and "can I do this?" kept my nerves on edge, making it nearly impossible to sleep the past few days.

Two months ago my whole world had fallen a part and today I took an active role in taking it a part. I took down the pictures on the wall of a girl I barely recognized. She was happy. She was in love. She was free from the broken heart that consumed her now. The pictures held hope for her that one day she might be that gay bright girl filled with laughter and joy, but for now I wrapped her carefully with packing paper and bubble wrap placing her in between two comforters in a box labeled fragile.

It was amazing to see how much I had gathered through the four years of living in the small apartment. After 5 carloads to D.I. and 3 carloads to the local dump I finally wittled down my belongings to being able to fit in my 2004 Honda Accord with room to spare. There definitely is something cathartic about getting rid of a ton of junk, or maybe just getting rid of things that remind me of him.

12 hours later I was packed and beyond exhausted. The orginal plan was to head over to Nikki's house once I was finished but I didn't have the energy. I collasped on the front room floor, used a balled up hoodie for a pillow, a blanket Nikki had forgotten over here 3 years ago and went right to sleep.

I awoke the next morning stiff as a board with a horrid crick in my neck and rays of sunlight blinding me. Irritated, I unwillingly got up and double checked my cleaning job, put the remaining few nicknacks lying about in a box and tossed it in the back seat of my car. I put the apartment keys on the kitchen counter and turned to leave.

They say when removing a band-aid to just yank it off as quickly as possible, but I've never been that brave. So, naturally I can't just leave. Half way to the door I stop and turn to take one last look. I realize I'm not leaving much; dusty walls, small windows, low ceilings and elephant neighbors above. Getting out of this hole is the best thing, but as I look around I'm reminded that is the kitchen where he taught me how to make his famous ziti and the living room where all of our friends would gather together for jam sessions on Sunday and sing songs from that months Pottery Barn catalogue.

"What am I doing?" I whispered to myself.

And then I blinked and I was in reality. I took one deep long breath and as I exhaled I concentrated on releasing all the pain and memories I could of that place; leaving it behind for someone else to have. Closing my eyes, I turned and walked directly to my car never looking back. At least not right then.

another stabb

We sat silently in his car like two crash test dummies awaiting the inevitable beatings that lied ahead. The parking lot lights filtered in through the tinted windows casting a strange light on our stone like features. His hands clenched the steering wheel while staring into the nights dark horizon. I was scared to move for fear of breaking his deep train of thought.

Nothing had gone as planned tonight. He was late picking me up causing us to lose our reservations at The Chef's Table, which would have been fine if it wasn't for the fact that every other decent restaurant in town was booked or had over a two hour wait for a table. Needless to say by the time we finished our meal it was too late to meet up with the rest of our party to head to the formal together.

Of course, getting there was no easy feat; after two hours of "Isn't it that way?" we finally arrived at our destination. A half hour drive wound up taking us four times that amount, all because Phillip was unwilling to call our friend Bryce to verify directions. I was on the verge of tears and Phillip was struggling to keep his temper in check. Leaving, even though we had just arrived sounded good to me.

Both of us stared out in opposite directions, avoiding one anther's nasty glares, when his hands finally released from his death grip around the steering wheel; he slowly turned and grabbed my hand, softly whispering, "I'm sorry."

Simple, sweet, and true. I knew he meant, so I smiled and said "It's okay, we made it, ten hours late," rolling my eyes,"but we made it," with a huge smile.

Laughing, he leaned over and kissed me. "Exactly!"

Before I knew it he was opening my door, whisking me toward the hall. The deep throbbing of the bass vibrated the pavement causing my excitement to grow. Hip-hop, my favorite. I pulled on Phillip and started a brisk walk toward the entryway. As we passed under a window we could hear the DJ making an announcement.

"Gentlemen grab that gorgeous lady you're with tonight and take her around the floor one more time...Open Arms."

I stopped dead in my tracks, turned on my heel and headed for the car. A little shocked, Phillip stammered, "Where are you going? The dance is that way," pointing the opposite direction I was headed.

"It's over, lets just go."

"No" and with that Phillip bridged the ten foot gap between us and pulled me in to him by my waist.

"We, you, did not get dressed up just to go home. Tonight, I will dance with my gorgeous girlfriend, " twirling me around like a ballerina on point. We floated across the ebony dance floor, swaying side to side among the natural light of the moon and stars. The heat from his body kept me warm and the beating of his heart convinced me it wasn't a dream.

Everything that happened before was washed away and I was completely immersed in us and that moment. "I come to you with open arms." The sincerity of the lyrics resonated in my heart. I held him close to me, praying the moment would never end. With each breath I tried to inhale his natural woodsy fragrance, failing each time. That's when it hit me. I breathed him in. I pulled him in. With every attempt to hold him closer, he drew further away. His body was here but his heart was somewhere else. How long had it been this way?

I looked up at him, longing for him to look at me. He felt my gaze and smiled down at me. I knew then what I know now. "I come to you with open arms." We danced there amongst the asphalt and cars; I rested my head on his chest and whispered to his heart, "I love you". The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them and my heart was bare. There was no reply, just what I expected, nothing. I loved him. I held him. I breathed him in. With that, I held him as tight as possible and tried to let go before I got hurt.