Distance

Were you to cross the world, my dear,
To work or love or fight,
I could be calm and wistful here,
And close my eyes at night.

It were a sweet and gallant pain
To be a sea apart;
But, oh, to have you down the lane
Is bitter to my heart.

-- Dorothy Parker

She used to think that him being hundreds of miles away was the hard part. But she didn't know then what she knows now. It was easy to pretend that distance was the only thing they would have to overcome. Like she hadn’t broken him. It was easier to pretend that way. ‘What ifs’ and ‘could have beens’ were easier to swallow then.

But now everything has boiled down to seven steps.

Seven steps.

She counted.

She had to give him a fax and she stared at the back of his neck for what must have been fifteen minutes before she could work up the courage. Wobbly knees and unsure toes took her toward him. She counted to keep her mind off it.

One. Two.

I think I’m in love with him.

Three. Four.

He hates me.

Five. Six.

I’m sorry.

Seven.

I miss you.

She placed the fax on his desk and he didn’t even look up. Like some meaningless ghost from Before had passed through him. She walked back to her desk, seven more steps, seven more regrets. She watched all day, waited to see if he’d read the fax and maybe touch the place where her hands had been and suddenly remember what it was like to be in love with her.

But the days came and went and he didn’t even touch the paper. He tossed folders and office supplies on top of it, like he was trying to bury her.

She felt buried. She could feel the sandy soil collecting in her lungs, filling up her throat and mouth to keep her from saying anything that he didn't want to (or couldn't) hear. Their love, or whatever it was, was six feet under but he kept piling dirt on top of it anyway, like he wanted to make sure it was really dead.

She wants to tell him that it’s still alive under there, that it lives in her even if he can’t hear the heartbeat. But he doesn’t want to hear what she has to say.

When she gets home from work, she pretends that he’s still away. She pretends that they might still have a chance when he gets back (if he ever gets back).

But it’s going to take more than seven steps for her to reach him.

She doesn’t know if she can count that high.