The confession... (of a whore)

The confession slipped.
“I suppose I should tell you…”
His eyes clouded over. The sadness was overwhelming for me to look at.
I could only imagine how it felt for him.
I expected anger, sulking, something.
Instead, he looked at me with those immensely sad eyes and spoke in a very low, soft, voice.
“Please stop.”
His soft sorrow crushed me. All I could do was shake my head.
He knew I wouldn’t stop.
I knew I couldn’t stop.
I knew that I loved Jeremiah, but I knew that
I loved Michael more.
Jer knew it too, I think, but he wouldn’t accept it.
I squeezed his hand. “There’s more. There are things I haven’t told you. Things I can’t tell you.”
I couldn’t take anymore blows from those eyes.
After begging me to tell him, to trust him,
he started to guess.
He guessed in circles at first. “Drugs? Alcohol? Murder?”
When I finally had to nod my head yes, I couldn’t look at him, but he forced me to anyway.
He threw his arms around me.
I didn’t respond.
“Hold me,” he said. I did.
But again, I had to say, “There’s more…”
I told him. His eyes scared me.
Things were quiet for a while.
He withdrew.
Words came in waves.
“I can’t do more for you than he can, but I can stay loyal to you.”
Everything he said stabbed me.
He had been loyal. More loyal than anyone.
“I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want someone to fill a hole. I want you.”
I wanted to be as loyal to him as he had been to me.
But my heart yearned for another.
“Please don’t see him again.”
My brain screamed that
I loved Michael.
Nothing on God’s green earth could keep me from seeing him,
except, maybe, Michael himself.
“I can’t,” was my only response.
“Why?” he finally yelled.
Because I love him! I have fallen head over heels in love with him! I love him more than I love you!
“Because I can’t.”
Silence.
“Talk to me.” I saw words behind his eyes.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I deserve it.”
His eyes. “You betrayed me.”
I could only nod in agreement.
His eyes, his eyes. “You promised.”
I nodded.
“I drove you to meet him! You told me over and over not to worry! You told me
nothing would happen!”
I nodded.
Silence.
“I love you,” his voice lowered.
“What does that mean?”
“I’d give my life for you. Not my death. I want to live every moment for you. I want to give everything for you. Not because I have to or I should or I feel obligated.
I want to.”
I lost track of some of his words. But the whole time he spoke, I thought to myself: That’s how I feel
about Michael.
I decided then that I didn’t love Jeremiah at all like he loved me. He was my best friend, but
I did not love him.
I’d nearly slept with him, but
I did not love him.
I’d told him many times that I did
with all my heart,
but I did not love him.
And then he asked something horrible.

“Do you love me?”

I winced. I paused. I couldn’t tell him no. Because to say that wouldn’t be
true
either. “That depends on what you mean,” I ventured.
My hesitance had already left its mark, but he spoke.
“Do you want to be with me every moment of your
life?
Would you give up everything for me? Would you give up college? Would you give up your friends? Would you give up your hands, for me, Kaitlyn?”
Silence.
No, I would not give everything for him. I wished that I would. But I knew that I could not.
I had shared the most intimate moments of my life with him. I loved him. But,
“Not like that.”
I thought for sure his eyes would drown me.
“I’m sorry.”
No response.
“I wish I could, Jer… I wish I could give up everything. I wish I could give up him for you, but I can’t! I just can’t! I can’t!” I couldn’t tell if it was crushed, or angry, or frightened, but whatever it was, the words sparked something harsh.
“Why?” he again yelled back.
“Because I…”
It had taken me so long to admit to myself that I was in love with Michael. The first thoughts of
love
had flittered through my head some eight months ago, maybe earlier, but I had
smothered
them as soon I sensed them.
Love terrified me.
In my mind, love invariably led to being alone. More horribly alone than you’ve ever been.
But somewhere between the dreamy last nights of summer and the harsh last nights of winter,
I had let myself
slowly
believe that Michael was worth the pain.
He’d been worth over three years of torture for nothing.
Surely, now he was worth
so much more.
“Because I l-…”
But I couldn’t tell Jeremiah. Not like this. I had admitted before that I thought I might. But to
rub in his face that I
loved the one person he hated the most.
“Because I can’t.”
Silence.
When he looked up, his eyes were no longer crushing.
They were the most horrible things I’d ever seen.
Searing.
More powerful than fire.
“I hate him.”
“I know.”
“I want to kill him.”
“I know. But I could never speak to you again if you did.”
I could see him breaking. I could see tectonic plates colliding.
He fell.
I held him.
I kissed him.
I held him.
He cried.
He wouldn’t look at me.
I kissed him.
He would not kiss me in return. And this
hurt.
It burned, it crushed, it pierced something deep.
Some trust had been broken.
I pushed him away angrily.
I drove him home.
Halfway to his house a bullet split my skull. My world fell apart. I felt barely conscious.
As he was about to leave
it was my turn
to breakdown.
He held me and I sobbed.
Gut wrenching.
I nearly screamed.
When I collected myself, his eyes were softer.
I needed him to kiss me. I needed to know that he was still there.
I needed my only safe place to not be invaded by my mistakes.
“Please…” I begged.
“What?”
Silence.
“What do you want?”
“I need you to kiss me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know… anything right now. But I need you to kiss me.”
He searched my eyes. I wondered if he could read my thoughts through them like I could through his.
Did I always give myself away?
Finally,
“I want you to remember this.
I want you to remember this when you think there’s nothing left to live for.
When you think there’s no honor in the world.
I want you to remember.”
He gently pulled my face towards his.
His lips, his tongue, sweetly caressed my world back to order.
And then he
walked away.