What was it that I felt?
For Ben, for Aedin?
Was it love? Did I ever love? Is it possible, am I physically capable of feeling love?
Let's say I am capable. Would it even matter? Even if I can fall in love, real love, actual, genuine, sincere love, untainted by anything else at all, is what I felt, is that it?
Maybe it wasn't.
Maybe it was a cacophony, covering up my ears screaming lullabies, trying not to listen to the hatred in my head, the all-consuming intolerance I had -- still have -- for myself.
Is it real love, then? Is it genuine or just a lie, if all my mind is doing is distracting itself? Is it that the affection is genuine but otherwise platonic? Is it that there was never any real affection at all?
I guess it doesn't matter if there was real affection. Either way, I miss him.
It wouldn't be fair to tell someone 'I love you' and then later realize that what I really meant was 'You make the voice that tells me I'm not good enough shut up so that I can smile and feel okay.'
That can't be what 'I love you' means.
Maybe it's just me.
Maybe I'm the only one who doesn't understand what love means or what it feels like.
I merge into the turn lane, my eyes following the lines upwards and onto the highway.
It's dark out and sprinkling. On one side of me is a car dealership, lit up as clear as day with bright white lights. On the other, a blueberry field, picked and stripped, dusted with frost and black as a void in the night, the shadows of distant trees obscuring the horizon beyond.
There's nowhere to go, but the one place I don't want to be is at home.
So I look out over the road outstretched in front of me. I wonder, if I keep going, I might find a place where time stands still.
All I need is time. If I can find a place where time stands still, where I can choose whether or not to move forward, I can stay for a while, and maybe I can have enough time to think.
I just need time to think. It goes so fast, and when it's gone, you can't take it back, and it just keeps tick-tick-ticking away until you open your eyes one day and the ticking stops and you've got no more time left because you wasted it all driving on the fucking highway, thinking instead of with him.
Time feels like a waste if it isn't spent with him.
Which him is it, Arthur? Which him are you talking about?
Who do you daydream about? Who is it?
You can't have both.
You have to pick one.
Which one do you love?
Can you even love?
Are you heartless,
destined to die alone,
all alone,
because you were so stupid,
that you couldn't fall in love,
even when you tried?
I can't see the road, it's blurry through my tears and the rain as it turns into fluttery flakes of snow that cling and stick to the windshield.
I catch sight of a sign. A small part of me registers that I should be relieved.
Rest stop ahead. I pull in, stopping the car in the parking lot, and shove open the door, falling out onto the cold, wet ground, feeling my knees sink into the icy sludge.
I haven't tried to eat any rocks, but there's one in my stomach and one in my throat and I'm going to be sick to get them up.
Hot tears stream down my face, contrasting with the biting cold that whispers against my cheeks, turning them pink and painful. The snow continues to fall, and I begin to notice that I'm not by myself.
I look up, and through blurry tears, I can almost trick myself. But it isn't him.
"Are you okay?" He asks. It's not him.
I look down at my lap, letting my hands fall. My jeans are soaked and I'm beginning to shiver. I shake my head.
"Yeah, I guess that's obvious." He shuffles for a second, then comes closer. "C'mon, it's cold. Let's get you in where it's warm."
I nod and get up with his help, following him toward the light of the rest stop. He pushes open the door and lets me in, motioning to a row of benches. I plop down onto one of them, and he hands me a wad of napkins from a nearby coffee station.
Wiping one over my face, I get a good look at him.
Blonde, green eyes, average height, round face. He looks kind.
He wears the same logo on his shirt that I see plastered all over the rest stop. He's an employee.
"Do you need to call somebody?" He asks.
"I don't have my phone."
"Oh." His eyebrows rise a little. "You can use mine."
He reaches into his pocket and brings it out, holding it out to me. It's the same model as mine, but it feels heavy in my hand. I stare into my reflection in the black screen.
"How long were you out there?"
"I'm not sure. It couldn't have been long."
He motions out the window at my car. "I hope not, 'cause you didn't park right."
I smile. "Sorry. I wasn't in a good place to keep driving."
"I understand. You look cold, do you want a hot chocolate or something?" He turns, pointing at the coffee machine again. There's a separate section labeled 'Non-Caffeinated,' and a fountain for 'Triple Chocolate Fudge' flavored hot chocolate.
I shrug. "Yeah, that sounds good."
He goes to get a cup, leaving me with his phone. I tug my coat around me a little tighter, still just staring at myself in the black screen.
I don't look like myself.
There are dark circles around my eyes, a layer of stubble along my chin, lines of tears down my face. My hair is in need of a cut, there are frown lines forming around the corners of my mouth. I look remarkably like Aedin did, a few weeks into living together.
I don't look like me.
I open the phone and it asks me for a password. I put in my password. It declines.
I blink.
Looking up, the man is back, holding out a steaming cup. I trade him his phone for the cup and smell the steam rising out of the tiny hole in the lid. Chocolatey, warm, brownie-like, almost.
"On the house," he says hesitantly, as I go to grab my wallet.
I study him for a moment. A kind stranger, likely someone I'll never meet again in my entire life, but I'm glad that, on this night, at this hour, right when I was about to give up, he was here.
He hands me back the phone, showing the dial pad. I stare blankly at the numbers, but there's nothing. I can't remember any numbers, except one.
It's half past midnight. It's been weeks since I've seen him. He probably won't answer.
But I tap the number in any way.
I put it to my ear as it rings, looking up at the kind employee.
He picks up on the second ring.