“You know he liked you when we first moved up here, right?” his sister blabbed.
I gripped the steering wheel and did all I could to keep from showing my surprise. Or from swerving off the road.
I was calm when I replied that I had no clue that he had ever liked me.
“Oops,” she laughed. “Then I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
She went on about whatever that bit of information had related to from our previous conversation but I had no clue what she was saying.
Instead I was going through every old memory of him interacting with me. I watched each one from a new vantage point. It was like seeing a full puzzle all put together instead of seeing just a pile of pieces. Every bit of support he had ever showed me. The hugs of comfort. Even the teasing. And the arguing. And the full blown word fights where we ended up apologizing after we cooled off out hot heads.
Memories flooded my mind as I drove her to her house. I think I told her good night and that we would hang out again someday very soon. But I would have to check on that when my world stopped shaking. I was baffled. Completely thrown off. How could he like me? Had I actually known it and just not let myself admit it or confront it? I was a complete and utter bitch to him sometimes. I was annoying and frustrating.
He had liked me through all of that.
But wait. Liked. That was past tense. When did he stop? Why did he stop? Was it because of the annoyance and frustrations? Did he get tired of all the arguing and fighting and debating? Was I just lame and he lost interest? Did I push him away? Could I have let him in? Could we have had an actual relationship if I had payed more attention to the signs? Wait! Were there even signs?
The memories repeated. Again. And again. And then more slowly. I hit the slow motion button on every scene that I could remember. Listened closer to every conversation. I was looking for anything that could even slightly be interpreted as a sign.
Then I wondered back to her second comment. Was I supposed to ever know that he had liked me? Why was it so secretive? Why did he hide?
But then again, why had I hid? Why did I not say anything? I had not made any moves. But that was because I thought he hadn’t liked me. But he would have been thinking the same about me.
Maybe.
How would I ever know? I could not go back in time. The past had been lived. We had made the choices to stay quiet about our attractions so many times. The opportunities had been there. Many of them. And all of them we passed up.
Who knew what we had missed? What could be done now? It was over now. He was gone. He had moved last month.
Sleep never came.
At four in the morning, I fired up an email. And prepared it for him. It was short.
“I don’t know if I was ever supposed to know. But since I do, I figured I would even the score and let out my secret as well. You liked me when you were first up here. And I liked you.”
I hovered my shaking cursor over the send button. A bump sent it.
An explosion had replaced my laptop. A big mushroom cloud like those really massive bombs.
Gender:
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