Black hole

You finished work for the day and you called her. She picked up, like she always does, with a smile on her face. Even if you can’t see it, you hear it in her voice. She said it’s fine to come over, she was just making pasta, would you mind grabbing some wine? You wouldn’t, you need a drink anyway. You get to her place, a one bedroom flat, slightly smaller than yours and maybe for that reason fuller. Or at least that’s how you feel when you’re at hers. Like there’s no empty corner. Not in an overwhelming way, but in a thoughtful way. Like she made acquaintance with every bit that was making up her place and truly made it hers. There's art on her walls, nothing pretentious, just things that say something about her. There’s this one piece that, when she got it for herself, she ordered it twice, cause she felt it wasn’t just about her, but you too. So now you have art on your walls too.

The pasta was ready when you got there, so you just sat at the table, a high candle in the middle of it. She brought glasses and poured the wine you got on your way to her. She grated some parmesan over both your plates and sat down. She asked about your day and wondered what made you make the trip to her on a weekday’s evening. You just had a long, heavy day and wanted to see a familiar face, is what you told her. She smiled, but her heart broke a little. She knows she’s not just a familiar face to you, but sometimes she would like to hear you say it. Instead, you tell her about your day, the deadlines that keep piling on each other and the colleagues who never get anything right. She listens and asks what’s something you achieved today. You think for a while and tell her about this project that got dropped on your lap a few days ago and you managed to finish it before the deadline. She smiles and says it’s definitely something to be proud of. She then asks you what made you laugh today. You don’t have to think that much about this one. It was one of those videos you keep sending her. She asked which one and you tell her, laughing again remembering it. She doesn’t find it particularly amusing, but she loves to see you laugh. She keeps asking questions and you answer. Sometimes diligently, sometimes slightly annoyed. But you enjoy her curiosity, the way she peels you off and takes on your layers, while you get to your core.

When you’re done eating, you help her put the dishes away and then suggest a shower. You decided you’re going to spend the night, something you never do during the week. But you feel quite relaxed now and you don’t want to waste it on hurried people bumping into you when running for their train. She says it’s fine. You knew she’d say that. She loves having you around. You both hop in the shower and she asks you if you’re going to wash her hair tonight. You say you’re tired, but you will definitely do it next time. She says okay, but her heart breaks a little. You know you said this before, a little guilt is creeping up. So you soap her back and give her a little massage, to put your mind at ease. 

In bed, you’re half asleep when she asks you something and you don’t respond. She wants to read and asks if the light is bothering you. You smile and say it’s not. You heard the first question too, but chose not to answer. She also knows you heard it, and her heart broke a little. You put an arm around her and your head against her ribs. Soon, your breathing deepens and you’re asleep. She holds her book with one hand and is stroking your back with the other. You sleep like that for a while, and then you turn. She turns off the light and comes to hug you. You drift apart in the night, so when your alarm goes off in the morning, you snooze it and pull her in. She's half awake too and she’s not resisting it. Your hand goes up her t-shirt and moves across her abdomen, up to her boobs. You bury your face in the hollow of her neck and with your free arm you pull her in even closer. You make love and then you get up. She asks you to stay a little longer and you say you don’t have time. She smiles with sleepy eyes, while her heart is breaking a little. You’re in a hurry now. You jump in the shower while she’s making coffee. She’s working from home today, so she can shower later. You don’t have time to have breakfast together, so she just pours your coffee in a to-go cup with her company’s logo on and hands it to you when you’re done putting your shoes on.

You take the cup, kiss her and open the door. She asks if you’re still going to that concert tomorrow. You say you want to, but you have to see how work goes. She says okay, but her heart breaks a little. You hurry to the station, take the train and make a quick stop at home to change your clothes. Your day at work is long again and you just got invited to a conference that overlaps with the concert. You text her that you can’t make it. She says she understands, but her heart breaks a little. You apologise and offer to make up with dinner over the weekend.

And then the weekend comes, and you remember you had already committed to plans with your friends, So you can’t make the dinner. You suggest to grab lunch next day. You text her and when she doesn’t reply immediately, you text her again to ask if she got the message. She did, and all the little cracks in her heart were now finally connected, so her heart just broke entirely. She was collecting the pieces and putting them together. She texted back that she understands, but there’s no need for another plan. She knew it couldn't continue like this. She was still loving you. But it became too painful to love a black hole.