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Trust me, you don’t
To John:
How many drawings did the artist produce?
From John:
Four
To John:
And you have made signs of all of them?
From John:
Yep
My fingers shake with indecision as I type:
To John:
Show me the next
With a fish-eating grin, John lifts the next sign.
Marry me?
I shake my head and laugh despite myself. I mouth a mock-severe no at him and type back.
To John:
Put up another thing like that, and I’m closing the blinds
From John:
Uh-oh then I’m in trouble, the next one is even worse
To John:
Worse than a proposal? Own it, Raikes
He lifts the next sign with an expression that’s not so lighthearted anymore.
I frown as I stare at another brown mound with yellow dots. John takes in my expression, looks at the sign, and slowly turns it.
I love you
I read the words and then take in the face of the totally serious man behind the sheet of paper.
An explosion goes off in my chest and I don’t know if I can keep breathing.
John’s expression is as intense as his body is still. His eyes keen, hopeful, vulnerable.
I’m looking at him, seeing him as if he were standing right in front of me, no glass panes dividing us, his voice inside my head: I love you.
And I don’t know how to answer. My eyes can’t stop looking into his, to search for answers, for a solution to this, this feeling that has been growing and growing inside of me, engulfing my soul and my heart and the fear it wreaks in its wake.
I take a shaky, ragged breath and stare at him, really stare at him, for the first time in years, and I’m shocked by the knowledge of what I’ll be losing all over again if I continue to say no.
