Liesel Schmidt - The Secret Of Us

I’d wondered as I looked into his eyes if I would be able to live like this, to continue to be his friend while he dated other women, when I loved him, was in love with him, and wanted more . He squeezed my hands, the gentle pressure communicating his understanding of the struggle going on in my head and in my heart.

“I’m not ready for you, Eira. You should have someone who will be fully committed to you, and right now I’m not emotionally in that place.” He looked away for a moment. “There’s a reason I haven’t been on a date in three months, and it’s not because I haven’t been meeting women anywhere. It’s because right now, I don’t think I should be dating. Anyone .” He smiled at me fondly. “But if I was, you would definitely be at the top of the list.”

The conversation was done, the subject was closed. I felt so many things – hurt and confusion and disappointment. And a strange desire to argue, as though presenting my case well enough might change his mind, make him see that we were perfect for one another. That he really did love me enough, that he loved me the way that I loved him. I bit back the urge and swallowed the words I so desperately wanted to say.

“Will you tell me if you ever change your mind?” I asked quietly.

Matt nodded.

“You’ll be the first to know,” he said soberly.

I looked down at my hands, still ensconced in his, and blew out a long breath.

“So, what’s on the tube?” I asked, extricating my hands and turning to face forward on the couch. I felt more like fleeing the apartment, burying myself in the safety and solitude of my bed, and hiding from the world while I cried. But I was determined to put on a brave face, to soldier on as though nothing had changed between us.

As much as I wanted it to be true, it wasn’t.

Nothing was the same, and nothing would ever be the same.

Because I knew for certain that I loved him – and that he didn’t love me back.

Months later, not even that was certain.

Chapter Five

From: Eira Larson

To: Matthew Noble

Subject: Please Read This Right NOW: I’m Going to be Totally Honest

Date: October 12, 2004

Right now I’m terrified.

Again, I don’t really know how I should be feeling, but terrified is one of the first things that comes to mind.

I want to be happy.

I want to be able to take the memory of Friday night and for it to be simple.

I want to take the memory of your face, your hands, your taste, the ridge of your jaw, your hair in my fingers – the feeling of you so close that all I wanted to do was get closer – I want to be able to think about all of those things without the sickening feeling that it was all a lie.

Was it?

Was it just some conjuring of my imagination that’s going to dissipate in the next gust of wind? I feel like I’ve lost my equilibrium, and I have no one to talk to about this except you. Only you know what you were thinking, so please tell me, Matt.

We crossed the line we’ve been dancing next to for so long, and now I need to know where to go from here. I have no choice but to take your lead. As much as I trust you, I’m afraid of what you could do to me. You already knew you had the upper hand, but now I have nothing. I laid down all of my defenses, and now I feel like I’m waiting for the destroying blow, like I’m playing Battleship with someone who can see my board.

When will I sink?

Is this the part where you forget my name?

Is this the part where our friendship dissolves, and I never hear from you again, or the part where you tell me it was all a mistake?

Are you simply going to tell me that you were just feeling adventurous and wanted to see how far you could push the limit? I’m not asking this out of anger. I’m asking it with the heart of someone who has been stripped completely bare. I’m aware, as I write this, how cynical this all sounds. It makes me sad, how quickly fear follows on the heels of happiness.

For one night, I was in a fairy tale.

But I’m not naive, and you’ve plainly stated so many times how much you don’t want a relationship. With me. So now I’m anticipating something, some explanation of things in the same vein.

Or maybe I should just expect silence.

You wouldn’t be the first man in history to decide to throw friendship under the wheels of a bus, giving in to hormonal whims and walking away as though nothing has happened. But I’m hoping you’re above that.

I’m trusting that you’re above that. Please don’t prove me a fool. You have so much power in your hands right now, and I don’t know if you’re even aware.

I need to talk to you, I need to be able to look into your eyes and see what’s going on with you. We owe each other that much, I think, because at this point, the most damaging thing we could do to our relationship is to not talk about this.

Face to face.

You’ve become my best friend, Matt, and I thought you felt at least that much for me. Please don’t prove me mistaken on that, as well.

I’m feeling so alone right now in this attempt to sort things out. All of the women’s magazines and relationship books ever published have articles that scream at women over their stupidity in situations like this. All of the evidence, all of the patterns should be enough to keep me on my toes, strapped in to a bullet-proof vest.

But maybe I really am a fool.

I wanted to be able to go home and talk about things with someone – my sister, my mom – someone.

Someone who would listen to me excitedly relay the events of a date and the possibility of more dates in the future.

I wanted to run up and down your street shouting at the top of my lungs that you had finally kissed me. Instead, I had to go home and try to fall asleep with an excited rush of blood pounding in my ears, all the while trying to keep a firm grip on reality. Because this is the reality: I want there to be a later, and you don’t.

I’ve heard experts say that couples should expect nothing from each other. That way, when one of them does something – washing the dishes without being asked or putting a load of laundry in the dryer or bringing home a bouquet of roses – it’s a surprise and that much more appreciated.

I never expect anything from you, and maybe that’s been my problem.

Having no expectations works within the commitment of marriage, but outside of that, it leaves you terribly vulnerable.

I never expect anything from you, so when you call – at 4 a.m. in the middle of a hurricane, from California when you’re on your way to a buddy’s wedding, while you’re out having new tires put on your truck – I come running. I come running in the hopes that maybe something will make you change your mind, and I live with the delusion that maybe being your fallback plan will change. I’m worth more than being a fallback plan, just as you are worth more than being some woman’s one-night stand.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering how you spent your weekend and if you were thinking about me at all.

I’d be lying if I said I really didn’t care.

I don’t know if your kisses were a lie, but mine weren’t, and I won’t say it was a mistake.