Dumped!

Dumped (33)

“Yeah”, she whispered, not making any attempts to move, or let go of my hand.

I couldn’t help the small smile that broke across my face, as she absentmindedly held on tighter.

“Or we could just stay here for a while”, I said, in a softer whisper.

“Yeah”, she repeated, still staring at the floor.

I could understand her state of shock. She'd only just started building a relationship with her mom, and I doubted that there was any way that she'd get over it, if things went south. 

In my case, the whole "hospital" situation was bringing back thoughts of Lauren, but at a new perspective. Maybe it was Deana, or maybe it was the feeling of being back in a hospital, waiting for news, but it was like my mind was opening up.

While I had sat in the waiting room, three years ago, I’d thought back to a time when I’d thought Lauren and I would be together forever. A pretty naïve viewpoint, but I was too in love to think otherwise. But in three years, my mind had developed much more realistically.

Truly, forever’s a really long time, and no one actually ever gets to be together forever. Some people, for a long time, yes. But others – like Lauren and I – have a breaking point, and fate’s fate. There is no changing it. That realism was something that Deana had from the moment I’d met her and that quality was one of the things that made her so special, to me anyway, and what I think made what we have so . . . . . . real.

There was a time when I was so sure that I'd never feel anything for anyone, the way I had with Lauren, but the way I felt about Deana was just so different, so passionate, so electrifying and refreshing and so – well, for lack of a better word – real.

We’re similar – we want exactly the same things and have similar opinions – yet, so very different. Her view of the world was one of a dark place, completely black and white, with no shades of grey. And although, my view wasn't that different, I liked to think that it at least brightened hers up a little. The thing about it is, we sort of complement each other, in the littlest ways, but with the largest implications, and that's one thing Lauren and I never had. We were perfect together, and that didn't leave much room for complementing.

I didn't completely understand my feelings for Deana, I just knew that the times we spent apart, I could never get her out of my head or even, aside just for a moment.
A week ago, I'd had a partner's meeting and I remember zoning out on her, for pretty much the whole meeting; I still don't even remember what it is we were talking about. She was like a permanent illness and at the same time, my cure. Excuse the medical terminology, we were at a hospital. My point is, I needed her and I couldn't really do without her. What that meant, I was yet to put my finger on, but it was what it was.

Brad strolled in, holding two Styrofoam cups. He handed us one each and said, “Deana, your dad’s asking for you.”

She looked up at him, and with what she probably thought was a feigned smile – it was actually more of a cringe – she nodded, and slowly let go of my hand.

“Thank you . . . for being here”, she whispered, looking back and forth between Brad and I.

Brad nodded; I smiled and replied, "Anytime", watching her head out, for the waiting area, as he plopped next to me. 

"You okay?" he asked.

“Yeah”, I murmured. I knew he was referring to his assumption of my stirred-up thoughts of Lauren. It was inevitable. Hospital. Surgery. Lauren.