Every time she saw his smile, his real smile when he couldn’t help grin so wide that the gap in his teeth showed, she was happy. When she was irritated with him all he had to do was flash that smile and she’d forget why she was mad in the first place. She knew she loved him when she got an A on her first big research paper since being back in school and he was the first person she wanted to tell. Same thing when something bad happened. Always her first call. He was her comfort, her joy, her punching bag, her inspiration, and her motivation. She’d never loved anyone more and knew she’d never love anyone the same way again, with that rush-of-adrenaline, like a drug, can’t live without you, intoxicating love. For years he was the last person she wanted to see at night and the perfect way to start her day. She thought they’d be together forever, that they’d overcome life’s obstacles as a team and take care of each other when they got old.
It was the best and it was the worst. Never in between. She saw him the other night at the grocery store. He was picking out a box of eggs in the produce section, back to her. His brown hair was messy and long and he was wearing her favorite coat, the brown one that was soft to the touch, worn from age. Sick to her stomach, she couldn’t face him. There was nothing to say, not even a hello. She didn’t care how he was doing and his smile? It was never sincere. She turned quickly down the bread aisle, disaster averted and prayed that was the last time she ever saw him.
A nice evocation of a very common situation--there were whole years when I would close a book or magazine if I came on the first name of my old gf, and it is a pretty common first name!
ReplyDeleteYou use the prompt to carry both meanings of the phrase 'last person you'd like to see' and do it with style. Isn't it a wonder that a phrase like this can have opposite meanings, depending on context and tone of voice?