Part II

After a bout with his Psychology test Thomas headed home. It was getting late. His thoughts drifted between Maslow and Pavlov, then to the puppy from the paint store that morning. He could have sword that its eyes nearly popped out when its owner squeezed it into silence. Sometimes it felt like college was like a make-up heavy old woman. Any original thoughts or sparks of creativity are squeezed into oblivion due to the mounting pressure of mid-terms, papers, homework, and a part-time job, not to mention a roller-coaster relationship with a girl who's mood changed as often as Thomas got hungry.

Hunger.

I'm hungry again.

Burrito Tuesday.

The thought brought a smile to his face.
Then a different. Why couldn't he share burrito Tuesday with Sara. He loved her, and yet he didn't share some of the simplest things in life with her. The things that made him smile.

She hates burritos.

She hates Mexican food.

She doesn't even like taco salad if it has the tiniest bit of salsa on it.

Do we have anything in common?

Anything at all?

Thomas thought about that as he walked. He tried to think of the last time he and Sara actually had a conversation about something other than being in school. They shared the same major - sports psychology. In fact, that is how they met. Thomas thought it was so cool that there was a girl taking the same sports psychology classes that he was. It didn't hurt that her blonde hair and California tan made her a real head turner. The first day of class that semester he decided that she would be his girlfriend. The first time they kissed he couldn't feel his feet he was so excited. That was back in September. Now, the first week of December, and he couldn't feel his feet because of the snow. Sara was still California tan, which come to find out was due to her weekly fake bake, something she wouldn't miss for anything, even an impromptu celebratory afternoon date after Thomas got accepted for the internship of his dreams. Sometimes she hurt him.

Sometimes it feels like I love her. Other times it feels like I've been standing all day on a hard floor with nowhere to sit down.

That night, after burrito Tuesday he dropped by Sara's apartment to say hi. She had her hair pulled up in a pony-tail, a U sweatshirt on and a pair of fitted sweat pants. Something about her casualness was so attractive. Somehow she turned frumpy into fashion. Just looking at her sent a fire through Thomas' whole being, a desire pull her into his arms and hold her close, ignoring the bustle of life around them.

Hi.

Hey, What are you doing here?  
I thought it was burrito Tuesday?
It certainly smells like burrito Tuesday...

The fluttering in Thomas' stomach turned to repulsion as the look on Sara's face twisted. He stepped into her apartment with some lame excuse about how he just wanted to see her tonight and could they maybe work on their homework together. A bit put out, Sara grudgingly agreed. She had grown to enjoy a night to relax by herself instead of having to stay in character while around her boyfriend. The two sat down and ended up watching tv rather than doing homework. Thomas took Sara's left hand while she flipped through the channels with the remote in her right hand.

A sadness loomed over his mind when he held her hand. He yearned to hold her, but the hand was all she ever made available. Even that felt reluctant. Not in the way she held his hand back, but in how she kissed him and the ways she never leaned her head on his shoulder during a movie. They spoke of love and more. He gazed upon her familiar face, never really knowing who she was. Both clinging onto what they hoped the other would someday become, denying the facts so plainly displayed in their lack of mutual affection. Even in his yearning there was illusion.

By now they were both pretending and only holding on for convenience and fear of solitude. What they had both fallen in love with was companionship and acceptance, not each other. Thomas knew it. Sara knew it. The unspoken agreement was finally being divulged tonight. They sat next to each other, stiff and afraid of what was next. The tragedy had begun when they deceived themselves and spoke the too often uttered words of love. They spent their kisses like carnival tickets. It is difficult to part with a friend you have suffered so much with, someone you have been through hell with. In this case, however, goodbye was their only gateway to the solitude that breeds joy and life. And so they said goodbye. He left her crying on the couch. Through her sobbing she obligatorily cried out one last time, don't go! and though he didn't leave the room right then, his heart had been gone for some time. A consoling arm and comforting embrace from a distant heart only adds to the pain. And yet, they were somehow closer in separation than all the days of their supposed love. Truth be told, he loved with a wholeness unmatched and unmeasured. Truth be told, it wasn't for her. She had intercepted his emotions for a time and now, realizing the farce, he had to move on.

Asleep that night, tangled in his sheets and faint dreams, his phone rang. He hadn't changed the personalized ring tone yet and the familiar sound that had always precluded their conversations made its way through the darkness. There was the temptation to let it go. Her voice was void of sadness. She knew it was late; that he was in bed was a forgone conclusion. Could she please see him just once more. The late night darkness overshadowed his judgment and he made his way against the chilly wind to her. Her silhouetted figure stood shivering in the breeze. An embrace, a look of passion in her eyes, a look that had been absent since the night they first kissed. They talked softly in the aftermath, both knowing this meeting was more a time for apologies than hope. Apologies for never having loved; apologies for not sitting facing, cheek to cheek, holding each others hearts. Appreciation for granting a vision of what it could mean to truly be whole through another; a vision yet to be made completely clear until the haze would begin to settle.