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Merrick
Rolling to my side, I shove the blankets down to my waist and attempt once again to get comfortable.
I’ve been in bed for over an hour, but my brain refuses to power down and let me sleep. This isn’t the first night like this either. In fact, if I recall, my sleepless nights started about three weeks ago, the first time Davis cancelled on me for our weekly run. I recall how I tried to push for a reason, and I never received a text in return. Then when he failed to show for our usual mid-week beer, I refrained from reaching out, instead giving him the space he clearly needed even if it did cause me to toss and turn at night. We’ve only seen one another twice since then to go running, but he no longer stays for a meal or a beer. And each time he returns home I’m left with a sick feeling in my gut that something is terribly, terribly wrong.
It’s not like he says anything about what’s bothering him. It’s in the hollowness of his eyes in the few glances we exchange; the exact same emptiness I saw there when we first met. It’s in the way he no longer runs next to me, but rather a yard or so behind me. It’s the scream within the silence, and in the helplessness I feel when he treats me no better than some stranger he’s met on the street.
I’m hurt, I’ll admit it. But on the flipside of that I realize I have no right to be. Since we’ve become friends, he’s never verbally expressed anger with me or attempted to goad me into an argument. I’ve learned that his way of dealing with most things is to shut down. But this time his indifference feels bigger. We might as well be on opposites continents, we are so very far apart.
I’m worried. I’m sick with worry over him, and berating myself endlessly for it. Whatever it is that I feel for the man, I can’t be there for him if he won’t let me. I can’t ask why there’s been a decided change in our friendship, especially if I can’t even get him to talk to me about the little things in his life. But I sure as hell can’t go on night after night, staring into the darkness, sick with fear and apprehension.
I need to let this go. I need to go back to running on my own and hanging out with my friends, instead of scheduling my entire life around the times I could be spending with Davis. I’m setting myself up for heartbreak. Worse than that though, I’m allowing him to dictate the course of this friendship, just as I did all those years ago with Tim. But I’m older now, wiser, and I’m not his pansy to sit back and let him treat me like crap. If he’s going to be my friend, he needs to own that friendship and pull his half of the weight.
Rolling onto the other side, I punch the pillow a few times and sigh heavily. What is it about the man that drives me so insanely crazy? If I weigh the pros and cons of a friendship with Davis, there are considerably more cons than I’m willing to admit. The man is married, for crying out loud. Of course we can be friends, but I cannot allow my heart to get involved any more than it already is. I need to look at him the same way I look at Aiden, as someone who enriches my life and cares about me.
But then I have to ask myself…how exactly has Davis enriched my life? He’s provided companionship in the form of a running partner and someone to spend a weekend afternoon with. Has he urged me to talk about my past, things in my life, thoughts I have? No, not really. Davis is most content when I remain exactly as I have been with him from the beginning; passively standing by. Waiting.
I’m pissed at myself for all these poor choices I’ve made. I haven’t even attempted to go on a date since meeting him, let alone hook up with some stranger. That’s not exactly my scene, but I’ve admittedly done it a handful of times. I’m old school; I like the idea of dating and getting to know someone. I like first kisses, warm embraces and words whispered in the dark. To be fair, there’s been little to none of that in my lifetime, but I do know what I prefer and what I expect out of a partner. And yet here I am once more, unable to sleep, sick with worry about a man I can never have. A man I hardly know at all.
As much as it saddens me, maybe Davis and I need to part ways. Or maybe we should just be running companions; no drinks afterward, no lunches shared on the patio ever again. We run together and go to our separate homes. No more mid-week beers over ballgames. No more last minute trips to the hardware store. Running…that’s all.
Flopping to my back, I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes and wish I could think of a better solution. But I have to protect myself and my heart. And I’ll be damned if this man is going to blow hot and cold with me simply because I allow it to be so.
Suddenly, there’s repeated banging at my front door. There’s a pause, and it starts up once again, just as I turn on the side table lamp and sit upright. It continues relentlessly while I pull on sweats and make my way through the dark hallway to the front room. I flick on a light just as the doorbell rings; undo the locks to still more unrelenting pounding.
Dragging open the door, my eyes widen in shock to see Davis standing there. He’s ashen, shaking; his brown eyes bruised with such intense agony that it reaches out and grabs me by the throat. In that moment I shove aside the person I promised myself I’d be, even though I know I’ll hate myself for it later.
Silently, I hold my hand out to him. A breath later his fingers grasp mine and he’s letting me lead him inside.
