If Only I Knew

The air escaped my lungs in a sudden rush.

It pressed back in on me with such a force that a tear was shed, one for every other woman.

The bright screen of my phone seared my memory with the image it exposed. Him. And her. Always a her that was not me.

I tapped out of the message and created my own.

Want to meet me at Jinkies for a quick bite in 15 min? Miss you <3

I knew this would hurt you and I wanted it to. I wanted you to feel the gut wrenching, heart aching pain that I felt, unless you just did not care anymore. Your actions proved as much.

Sure. See you at our usual booth?

Of course.

The walk there was quick and improperly insignificant for the events it led me to. The pavement was hard beneath my feet and the unforgiving air nipped at my skin, but I was numb to it all. I did not slow my pace until I could see the pink and blue neon sign that read Jinkies in big, retro lettering. Thinking of those lights now, the irony I find is almost amusing.

I straightened my white blouse and glided into the restaurant, the last of many times. I used to come here frequently before you. I’d sit with him and talk about anything and he listened to every word, something you could never quite figure out. I found him sitting there, at our usual table. He was staring at his folded hands, probably questioning his decision to come; rightfully so. I’ll never forgive myself for asking him to come.

While sitting down on the vinyl, the familiarity set in. He felt it too, I could tell. Those eyes met mine; those same brown eyes that I had dreamed of a million times even when I was with you. I never got the chance to find out what really laid behind those eyes because the second he unfolded his hands to let mine in, you came.

He and I did not notice at first, too caught up in each other, but you made sure to make yourself known. I still do not know how you found us. How? It took me days to find out when you had cheated and you know within minutes? You always did keep your playthings close.

My vision went white the second you threw your hand into my hair, grabbing whatever you could. Three whole seconds before they could focus again. Next went my body. Hitting the linoleum floor and being pulled back up again by my hair. I assume that I was screaming because everyone was looking; no one moved, but they sure did look. No one except him. He reacted faster than I did, slamming into you with full force, careful to sidestep me. Unfortunately you took me down with you.

You made a mistake: your hand had loosened its hold. I got up and ran out the door screaming for help. I wasn’t accustomed to abuse and, therefore, didn’t know how to react. They still just watched. You came running out after me, keeping your prey in your sights. He ran up form behind and I saw the look on his face. You didn’t, but I did.

Defeat and raged mixed together to make a fatal concoction. I saw it. He had let me go before, but he refused to again. Maybe if he had known what you were hiding he wouldn’t have done what he did. He wouldn’t have yelled at you and made a move to attack. Not if he knew you’d pull a gun on him. Not if he knew you’d shoot that gun three times that day. Once at him, a second time at me, and a third time at yourself in your prison cell that night.

Coward.