And still
The world stood still
I couldn’t move
And all I could feel
Was this aching in my heart
Saying I loved him… still…
-Reba McEntire
This weekend, for the first time in almost two years, I made a trip to my hometown. A good friend picked me up from the ferry, and since we had a few hours to kill, we went for coffee at the cozy little coffehouse we had spent hours at over the years. Another friend works there, so the three of us were having a great time catching up on each others’ lives… and then the conversation stopped. One friend gestured behind me. I whirled around to see him standing there in all his tattooed, heart-melting brown-eyed, tenderhearted, poetic glory.
He was the boy I loved for far too long without ever admitting it. The boy who, one magical summer, went from my best friend to my boyfriend. The boy who brought me teddy bears at work, wrote me poetry, and held me when I cried. The boy who made me feel less broken. The boy who would talk to me for hours on the phone, and never got mad if I suddenly hung up when it was 6am and my mom’s alarm clock started going off. The boy I thought I’d lose my virginity to. The boy whose friends told him I was bad news. The boy whose heart I broke without even realising it.
In that split second where our eyes met, I felt seventeen again. My mind started to race and I couldn’t breathe. Time stood still. Then, almost on cue, we both hastily looked away and returned our attention to our respective friends.
The encounter left me shaken for hours afterward, and even today, I’m a bit put off by the whole thing.
I don’t still love him. I don’t miss him, per sey. But seeing him there created a sort of wistful nostalgia that’s hard to shake.
I wish I could have said “Hello,” or “I’m sorry,” or “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He deserves that much. Sadly, I know that the next time I walk through those café doors I’ll see him sitting in his favourite spot, passionately discussing politics or literature or the random party he went to last night. And when I walk in, he’ll look up, our eyes will meet, and then we’ll carry on like we’ve never met before.
Sometimes it really is too late to say sorry, and no amount of wishing, hoping, or praying for another chance can ever make it all right.
So, from the bottom of my heart, beautiful boy, I’m sorry. I will always think of you with fondness, and forever cherish our memories. Thank you for helping to awaken my soul and inspire me to become who I am today. I never meant to break your heart, and although I believe everything happens for a reason, hurting you is my one true regret. I’m sorry.
