Love in the Afternoon
By rusty_mf
- 358 reads
Love In The Afternoon By Rusty Haight
I watched her hands as she pulled back the cellophane from her turkey
sandwich. I was squinting across the table, watching her focus her
attention on it and then take small bites. I stirred my cup of black
un-sweetened coffee out of habit and stared briefly at the light snow
falling outside the window.
"I'm sorry," she said as she looked up, catching my eye. "I can't do
this anymore. You and I, we have to stop."
My heart at that moment stood still in my chest. I watched her inhale
and wondered if that next breath would carry the words that would let
me know what the hell she was talking about.
"I just can't let myself care anymore. I can't care about anyone. If I
do it will just hurt a lot more in the long run.
"Christ, you mean more than this?" I almost asked.
One minute I was sitting there, watching my girlfriend eat a turkey
sandwich, the next she was saying she didn't love me anymore. No,
couldn't love me anymore.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You're just giving up? It's over? That's
all?"
She looked so sad as tears glistened on her eyeballs.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what to say."
I finally realized what was happening. The more it sunk in, talking
became more of a reflex than a means of communicating.
"What about our plans? What am I going to do? I love you." She was
crying now.
"You know this will only make things worse. You have to give it some
time. Think about it. You're too upset now to make a rational
decision."
"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling slightly. "It's all just getting to
be too much. I feel so horrible. I don't want you to get hurt."
"How do you think I feel?" I asked. "What could hurt more than this?
Knowing how things have been and how they could be, not giving it a
chance."
I could see she was getting upset. I took her hand.
"Just sleep on it, alright."
She seemed reluctant to end the conversation with me still not
accepting her decision. I stirred my coffee again and then took a
drink.
"C'mon, eat," I said as she dabbed away at the leftover tears on her
face. Her sandwich was for the most part untouched.
"I don't want it," she pouted. "You finish it."
I shrugged and ate the dry turkey and wheat bread sandwich, leaving
behind the gritty wheat-bread crust. As I ate, my thoughts drifted. I
though of the food chain and the forest, the barnyard. All the bits of
dismembered creatures, sliced, chopped, ground up. Blood, bone, sinew
all displayed in packages in your grocer's freezer. Bits of little
ones, big ones, there's Mom and Dad and the kids, bovine Aunts and
Uncles, all mashed together for consumption. Man, that sandwich hit the
spot.
"Y'know," I spoke up. "When the indians used to hunt and kill a deer,
they'd always cut out the heart and eat it as a sign of respect."
She stared back silently and I went back to staring out the window. I
felt a strange uneasiness in my chest as I looked past our little
table, into the distance. I started to feel a bit ill.
She stared at the table now with her cheek resting on her fist.
"So," I thought to myself. "I guess I'm single now."
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