The rain pattered against the roof, calm compared to the earlier pounding against the windows, the brick, and the shingles overhead. I sat with my notebook lying flat on my desk, my pen twirling between the two fingers of my right hand, deep in thought. My mind distracted by the rain as I tried to press my brain for ideas and plots.
The lights were dimmed and although it was only two in the afternoon, it was dark thanks to angry clouds and rain hiding the sun. I closed my eyes, attempting to cast my thoughts of her far away. The woman who once consumed my thoughts, my brain, my eyes, and here I was, trying to forget her. Drinking her away hadn't worked, neither had lying in my bed, drifting to other worlds or lost in a black hole inside of my head. I had turned to my other love, writing. Except now I couldn't make myself do it, I couldn't put the pen to the paper and commit to this seemingly simple task. I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I heard mindfulness was supposed to help distract one from intrusive thoughts, yet when that was over, her smiling face was the picture in my head. The times we'd spent together, the happiness, the love that we had made now gone, only a ghost occupying my thoughts.
Her smiling face quickly shifted into an angry one, the day she walked away, and out of my life for good. The image stole my breath and tears pricked at my eyes. I never wanted her to leave, I wanted to work things out, but I couldn't fight back, I couldn't give her what she wanted, what she needed.
"Nadra." My lips betrayed me, whispering her name softly. I swore I'd never speak her name again but I couldn't fight it. I still loved her, I wanted her to come back, to accept my apologies and my love. I threw the pen across the room as I started to cry. I lifted the notebook and ripped out the blank pages, tossing them onto the floor. My anger was frightening and irrational but I couldn't stop. I threw the notebook, a thud sounding as it connected with the wall. I buried my face into my hands and sobbed. Why couldn't I just talk? I should have screamed back, I should have laid every issue between us out on the table. We should have talked it out, yelled it out, whatever had to be done. But I shut down, I simply stared as she begged, pleading for me to talk to her.
My eyes stung and I still felt as if I could cry so much more. I wanted to pick up my phone and call her, tell her I love her and I'm sorry. Or show up at her door, wrap my arms around her, kiss her lips, and tell her how much I've missed her. I sat at my desk, contemplating. What if she didn't answer the phone, what if she wouldn't open her door because she didn't want to see me? That would shatter me more than I already was. I opened up the drawer on the right and removed the photo frame I had shoved in there in a fit of anger. I stared down at the two of us. Two smiling faces, my arm around her shoulders, her arm around my waist. My eyes welled with tears again but I replaced the frame, closed the drawer, and wiped my eyes. I had to do something, it was contact her or make plans to move on.
I couldn't move on. Nadra was the only woman I'd ever loved, the only person I could have truly love. I pushed the chair out and headed for my coat rack. I slipped my purple rain jacket on and grabbed my purse and keys. The rain had picked up and was now coming down in sheets. The cold rain and wind stung my face as I dashed toward my car, scolding myself for not cleaning out the garage. Finally behind the wheel, rain sliding off my raincoat, I gripped the wheel and stared at the garage door. How many times had she told me I should clean out the garage? I could see her now, laughing and calling me a packrat. Why had I let her go so easily? I started the engine and backed out of the driveway, nerves searing my stomach and as I started toward her house. The entire drive I felt I was going to puke. I was a trainwreck but I had to talk to her, I needed her.
Her garage door was closed and I had no idea if she was home. It wasn't dark enough to make out whether any lights were on. As I slipped out of my car, my stomach dropped in fear. I slowly made my way up the sidewalk to her front door. Her porch was always so neat just as her house. Everything had a place and was in order. My heart pounded as I stood in front of her door, trying to force my finger to press the button to ring the doorbell. Finally, I pushed it forward and struck the button. I could hear the bell sounding and I heard footsteps. My heart pounded even harder and I wasn't sure if I was going to puke or sob. I knew she'd check the peephole, she'd know it was me.
The door opened and she stood beside it, one hand hanging onto the knob, staring at me from behind her glass storm door. My tears calmed and I sniffed, my nose stuffy from the crying. Her long wavy black hair was down, spilling onto a dark purple shirt. The flat expression on her face gave away she was pained by the sight of me. I had caused her pain and that made me feel as if I had just been stabbed in my gut. Tears fell quickly from my eyes, there was no stopping them now. I wanted her, I needed to hold her. I slipped inside, my arms slipping around her shoulders. My eyes stung and I still felt as if I could cry so much more.
I started to sob. She wrapped one arm around my waist and placed her free hand on the back of my head. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry I couldn't react to you. I'm sorry," I sobbed harder," I'm sorry. I love you." I could hear her own sobs as she ran her fingers through my hair.
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have left," she said softly. She pulled away from me and closed the large mahogany door. All I could do was stare at her. I had missed every part of her and the past ten days without her and been utter hell. She walked back to me and stared up at me. My heart fluttered at the sight of her eyes, large deep brown eyes the color of dark chocolate. She took my hand in hers, tugging me gently toward the stairs. The feel of her hand in mine sent a shock throughout my body. My body knew where we were going, knew what was about to happen. I followed close behind her, our hands still connected. Her bedroom smelled of vanilla and peppermint, two of her favorite scents. She stopped once she'd reached the side of her bed and I immediately moved toward her, my lips pressing into hers, tasting her vanilla chapstick she habitually applied throughout the day.
