Let Her Go

By Rose Bryant

The rain soaked my clothes, I sat on the porch spinning the flower between my fingers. I remembered the smile on her face when she first kissed me. I remembered the sound of her laugh, the way she looked at me and warmed my heart. She is the only person I needed.

But when I opened my eyes. Reality seeped in and I remembered. She walked away. I pulled out my phone and looked at our last conversation.

I have sent ten messages and a few voice recordings. Still no response. The last words she wrote was “Stop texting, it hurts too much.”

Water dripped onto my phone. I wiped my phone, got up, walked into the rain.

I went to her house; I remembered sneaking in it at night so we could have alone time in her room. I remembered climbing out of the window when her brother came home early. I remembered the smell of her sheets.

I pulled out my phone and called her. It rang twice then went to voice mail, I called again, the same thing. I picked up a pebble and tossed it at her window. After four pebbles the window opened.

I saw her beautiful brown hair, her big eyes. I lit up like Christmas lights. But she didn’t reciprocate the joy.

“What do you want,” she sneered.

I knew she was hiding her smile.

“To be with you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Please I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Fine. But you can never come to my house again.”

“I just need to talk to you.”

She closed the window and came down. She walked past me, and I followed.

“You got ten minutes. Hurry up.”

She held up her phone, the timer counted down.

“I can’t think.”

She shrugged.

“You know you don’t want to do this. You can’t throw away all the good times we had together.”

She crossed her arms.

“Name one.”

“Like our first kiss, you look so beautiful.”

“Well, I remember that night, you pushing me to the wall and not letting me leave.”

“You kissed me.”

“Because you wouldn’t let me move!” She snapped.

“What about the beach.”

“The day you promised to drop me off at the train station and never came. That was fun too.”

There is anger in her voice.

“Why are you twisting all our stories.”

“Because you twisted them first. You let me think you are some romantic. When the truth is, your romance comes with a price. Either to make up for something horrible or excuse yourself to be horrible later.”

“I love you.”

“That’s a lie, you’re infatuated by me.”

I could feel her slipping away from me. I grabbed her hand. She stopped in her place.

“You remember the first night I walked you home?”

“Stop.”

“You looked so pretty in your waitress outfit.”

“Stop!” She wiped the tears from her face. “This is what you do. You mess up, you call me a bitch, shit on me when I accomplish something. And when I push away you pull me in. Just stop. I can’t take it anymore.”

The alarm went off. “Goodbye.”

She walked away leaving me in the cold night.