I remembered the way I felt when I had seen her that night. Normal scenes from everyday life, things I would never noticed before, suddenly made me feel angry. I closed my eyes, wanting the whole thing to go away.
A sad smile crossed her face, and I knew right then what she was trying to tell me. I could see her lower lip begin to tremble. Mine was doing the same thing, and I suddenly realized that my heart was speeding up as well.
“I’m sorry…,” she kept over and over. She began to cry even harder. It was I who should have been saying it, however. My throat suddenly went dry. I know that now, but my confusion kept me from saying anything. I just watched her cry, not knowing what to do, trying and failing to be the rock I think she needed.
Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t go away. As I returned her gaze, this simple realization made me wish for the millionth time that I could make all this go away. I wanted to tell her my thoughts, but the sound of her crying silenced the emotions inside me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
This was the one question I hadn’t asked her, the one that I’d been thinking about. I hadn’t slept that night, and my eyes were still swollen. I’d gone from shock to denial to sadness to anger and back again, all night long, wishing it weren’t so and praying that the whole thing had been some terrible nightmare. I was hurt by that and frightened at the same time. I knew she was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. I was, once again in my life, completely and utterly at a loss.
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