Skip to main content

That Sting in Your Chest

It turns out that I really like writing stories like this.

I think I could blame Graham Greene as much as anybody. And Kurt Vonnegut had one story like this and I think it's one of my favorites. But it just feels so good to pour stuff like this onto paper.

It stings. It shouldn’t sting, but it does. I tell myself it shouldn’t. That dulls it a bit. I reassure myself and that dulls it a bit more.

But it never goes away.

We’re not together and it shouldn’t hurt. We have no obligation to each other.

It doesn’t matter. That’s what I tell myself. I tell myself I’m just not that type of guy.

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach when I finally noticed that she’d disappeared with another man. It wasn’t exactly jealousy that gripped my heart and kicked me in the gut. It was that foolish longing, that hope that if things were slightly different, that could be me in there, holding her close, kissing passionately, hands delicately wandering.

But, alas, it isn’t me. Could it ever be? It’s doubtful. I’m hopeful, though.

On the way home, where she’s with me again, in close proximity is both sweet bliss and torture.

Although I’m almost sure (or so I tell myself) that nothing happened in with the other man, we were both acting like fools, reacting like fools. I tried so hard to hide my longing and she grew defensive. After we got back, I had to work up enough courage to tell her how I felt. I had to give her some idea.

I had to.

The pain of my message weighted my chest down with such force I could barely breath. My words burst from me, as awkwardly as possible it seemed, “I think… On some level, and I don’t think…in a creepy way, I love you. I love being with you, I love being around you. Yeah. I love you. There.”

And so there was the first and closest time I had ever come to telling her that I loved her, to someone who only “might” reciprocate. And not the love of lust or sex. The romantic love of being around someone, regardless of circumstance.

Her eyes meet mine and we have that moment where would kiss if circumstances hadn’t dictated that an impossibility. My breath leaves me again, she’s taken it. She reaches over to give me a consoling hug. Consoling to both of us, not just to me.

“I know how you feel. I really enjoy being with you.” Is that pain in her voice?

I’m so full of pain and joy and anguish that I can’t even tell.

I leave before I give into my urges, filled equally with happiness and forlorn regret.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Salt Lake Comic Con 2017 Schedule

It's time for another year of Salt Lake Comic Con and another hectic schedule for me. But! that doesn't mean it's not a helluva lot of fun. I hope you're able to join me at any of these panels. Especially if you like Star Wars. And please, please, please come to my signing and visit. Get some books signed. I'd love that enormously. Here is my Thursday schedule: Everything here is a highlight. That first panel about behind the scenes of the prequels is with Pablo Hidalgo and I'll be asking him questions about what it was like to be there on set for most of the prequels. Then I'll be asking questions of Michael Biehn, who I've been a fan of since I was a little kid. Aliens and Terminator were favorites. If you want to ask him a question, please hit me up on Twitter with it. I will ask it at the panel. And you don't want to miss Fauxthentic History's Infinity Gauntlet live episode. It's going to be soooo good. Here is Friday:

The Missed Opportunities of Days Gone By

“Hello?” I said into the phone, accepting the call from a number I didn’t recognize. “Hey,” the feminine voice on the other replied, as though I should know the sound of her voice. At a loss, I said, “Can I help you?” “It’s Brooke.” Her name stopped me. It couldn’t possibly be her. We hadn’t spoken in years, a decade perhaps. “Brooke?” “Yeah, Brooke Baker. This is Mark, right?” Jesus Christ. It was her. “Yeah, it is Mark. Brooke. Wow. How are you? It’s been a long time since… well… since anything.” “I know.” “So, how are you doing?” “Okay, I suppose…” Her voice belied her words, though. Something was up. “I… It’s just been so long and I guess I wanted to hear your voice.” “I don’t think I had a number for you. Ever. I offered a couple of times, but…” “I was a brat back then.” And that’s how a random phone call turned into a two-and-a-half hour catch-up session. We spoke of everything under the sun: people we still knew, how different we were, h

The End of an Era and a New Beginning

It's been a long time coming, but I think an upgrade to my web presence was long overdue. I began this blog in 2005 and it's served me well over the last 13 years. My goal in those early days was to write a short story every month. Back then, that was the only writing I was doing. This website, then called "Bryan's Short Story Corner," got me into a regular writing habit. One that I still maintain today. I hoped it would help me get eyeballs on my words and, looking back at some of those early short stories, I shouldn't have wanted any of those eyeballs looking. Today, my Patreon fills that void. There is a dedicated group of supporters there that help subsidize my ability to write short stories on the regular. After I started publishing books, this blog morphed into a place to talk about my projects and writing and it worked well enough for that for a long time. But now I have Twitter and Medium for those functions and they have much cleaner and easi