Wildest Dreams: Midnight

Dear Journal,

It was midnight. I was up like usual, writing that poem on the left page. It was a Saturday, so I knew I wouldn’t hear from him. Weekends are the hardest. They linger like an unpleasant odor. Soured like rotten milk. And my guts feel like twisted steel. Most Saturdays I spend biting my tongue so hard it bleeds, just to keep from crying. I spend Saturdays wondering why I had to fall in love with a man I couldn’t have.

I heard the familiar sound of tires against asphalt, but when I pushed the blinds aside, I couldn’t see anything through the sheets of white rain; no headlights. I wasn’t expecting him to be knocking at my door just moments later. But there he was. White collared shirt, black vest, and gray tie. He looked like he did everyday in class. So handsome. He loomed over my in my doorway, his sleek black hair dripping over the threshold, a drop even plopped right down onto my big toe. There was a darkness overcasting his face like a shadow, but his brown eyes glowed like a shooting star. “I, I shouldn’t be here.” His voice vibrated through my chest like thunder. I couldn’t even open my mouth. What was he doing here, I kept wondering. Even after his right foot stepped in through the doorway and his strong hands cupped my face. I kept wondering even when his lips met mine and they were hard, and cold like ice, but melted into liquid under mine.

His tongue tasted like candy apples. And all I could think about was the time at the carnival with Bobbi- but that was a different time. This was now. It was happening. The very thing I had been dreaming about since the moment I saw Mr. Prent in Global history. Since the moment my name was uttered through those perfect peachy lips of his.

It was all so hot, and I mean literally hot. Clothes felt like thermal heating fabrics wrapped around my limbs. They itched like bugs crawling all over my skin. Like that time I sat on a red ant hill and was bit all over… Focus… We ripped our clothes off, freeing ourselves of the constraint and somehow we found the bedroom. Somehow we found eachother. Somehow… We managed to fit.

This morning was bittersweet. I watched Jon dress, my chest tightening. Don’t cry, I kept telling myself. Don’t cry. He stood in front of the window, the faintest light shining through the blinds as the sun began to rise. His black hair, even after patting it down, was still askew. I resisted the urge to touch him. Like maybe he wasn’t really here. Maybe he wasn’t.

After looking out at the parking lot, he turned back to me. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

I smiled- or something like it- to cover my trembling bottom lip.

“I’m sorry.”

I nodded.

He kissed my forehead. Then turned to leave. I reached out for his hand. Savoring his warmth… But I couldn’t say what I wanted. Don’t go. Stay with me. I love you. Instead, I watched him leave.

It was the best. And the worst.

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