Letting go

You didn't ask, but tentatively your hand reached out to my own that was resting on the table.  And gently your fingers found their way around my hand, your grip tightening with every passing second.

Our drinks remained untouched, the ice slowly melting, watering the drinks down even more.  Words remained unsaid.

I had wanted to take my hand away.  I didn't want to give you anything to hold onto; there was nothing to hold on to.

You squeezed my hand, I could sense the pleading within your touch, the way you tried to gain a response from me as you stroked my hand with your thumb.  I tried to resist the sparks that it sent through my body.  I was desperate not to let you know that my stomach was in knots, that although the electricity between us was clearly felt, it was not enough.  That it could never be enough, especially when the things that were wanted were oh so much more.  I know that while we could give so much, it would always fall short.  We would always be both left unfulfilled.  Cheating each other out of what we ultimately wanted.  We would always feel shortchanged.  And that gave room for unhappiness, resentment even.  


It was better this way. Even if it didn't feel like it.

We didn't notice the people around us, those who came and went.  We didn't notice the people that passed by, the ones who sat nearby or indeed anyone else.  We didn't notice the people on the other side of the room who sat and watched us and the painfully sad moment that we were engulfed within.  I continued to look ahead, not needing to glance in your direction, not needing to look at you to witness the sadness and begging from your eyes.

I couldn't bare to see you this way, I couldn't bare how you just couldn't let go.  I couldn't bare farewells and goodbyes.  But we knew that was what was coming.  We both knew it was what was needed.  And yet we both knew it wasn't as easy as saying goodbye.

Your eyes caught mine.  And the emotions that came from your eyes tore at my heart.  Your eyes screamed and begged and yet there was no sound.  Your hand gripped my own tighter pleading with the same intensity, and as I glanced away I noticed the single tear that gently fell from the corner of your eye.  Your other hand reaching up to discreetly wipe it away before anyone else witnessed it.

"I can't do this" you whispered.  "I don't want things to end this way."

"But we can't do this either."

"I can't say goodbye." 

"So don't say it.  Just turn and walk away."

"I can't."

My heart was pounding.  Part of me wanting to take his face in my hands and kiss him deeply.  Part of me wanting to revel in his tears.  Part of me wanting to force him over the table and hurt him.  Part of me wanting to hold him and to whisper that it would be ok.

But, there was the part of me that knew that this was the right thing.  For him. For me. For us. For everything.

It didn't make it any easier.

It doesn't make it any easier knowing that it is the right thing when there's a part of you that doesn't want to believe it is the right thing.  But deep down you know.  Deep down you just know it is the right thing.  It doesn't stop it hurting.  It doesn't stop it reaching in and squeezing the life out of your heart, twisting it, turning it, hurting it before placing it back inside.

I gently pulled my hand from his.  Not daring to look at his face, his eyes or the sadness within.

"I can't do goodbyes."

 "I can't just walk away."

And with that, I stood up.  Knowing that what I was about to do was for him, for the best even though a part of me didn't want to let go.

"I can.  I will.  For you. For the best."

"But is it? For the best?"

And I stood, touching his face gently with my hand. Not daring to look at him, my heart feeling like a mirror hitting the floor as it shattered into a load of tiny pieces.  And as I started to walk away, my own tear matching his, I simply whispered "Yes JoJo. It is."