100 Miles and Running

PartyFoul

I returned home the next day. Finally meeting Colson in person was more amazing than I could have dreamt. I had so many mixed emotions though. I've always cried very easily, so it wasn't surprising that I did that now. I cried from the moment I drove away from his house, until I was about 30 minutes outside of town. What were we? I loved him so much, and he said he loved me too, but something felt off. When I made it home and back to the seclusion of my bedroom, I texted him how I felt. It would become a regular thing. Long drawn out paragraphs of varying emotional degrees, ranging from anger about something I saw online, to beautifully worded love notes.

He admitted something to me in the days following my visit.

"I showed my best friend your picture, and I was thinking 'wow, is this what it feels like when the girl you like is the ONE?'"

I was sitting in the parking lot of the grocery store by my work. I was going to get a fruit bowl before I drudged through another shift at the nursing home. I remember reading those words, THE ONE. I cried. I had told him before that when he met the one, he would just know it. She would make his life better, and he would know he could never live without her. And for him to say those words, to call me that person, was so moving.

I had high hopes for us. In those days, the days of March, we were love struck. We still weren't officially together, but we exchanged "I love you"s and I felt like that meant something. I was still high off the feeling of meeting him for the first time, and finally getting to spend time together. Within a week of returning home, I was already planning my next visit. It would be the first weekend of April.

That time it was a 3 day trip. I booked us the cutest hotel room I could find. I wanted privacy.

I had to drive out to his best friend's place to pick him up the first day. They had been doing some work to renovate Brandon's new house, and Colson wanted me to meet him. Brandon was throwing a pool party the next day and invited me to come along. We helped set up a few things, but finally left around sun down.

That first time together, at his house 3 weeks earlier, paled in comparison to that first night at the hotel. It was the best experience of my life, so far at least. Clothes strewn across the floor, the mattress shifted very noticeably off the box spring, and a number of sounds that hopefully the neighbors didn't hear. How did he improve this much in such a short time? Maybe we were both a bit nervous last time. It was our first, and we had built up to it so much. We fell asleep, a naked mess tangled in those white hotel sheets.

Waking up in the morning, sun peeking through the curtains, with his arms around me, was a memory I'd cherish for the rest of my life.

We got dressed and made our way to Brandon's. It wasn't so much a party as a small get together of friends. A good number of people showed up, but coming and going at different times of the day it seemed like no one was really there. We were all drinking by 11 am, and within two hours I was toasted. But I have this uncanny ability to sober up. When I stop drinking I can be completely sober an hour later. When I sobered up I went into an anxiety attack. I don't handle large numbers of strangers very well, and when I was finally sober it seemed like a hundred people were there and I didn't know any of them. I disappeared for a while.

I finally came back after a few worried texts from Colson. He found me crying in my car.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"There's just so many people. I'm getting anxiety. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm gunna tell Brandon that we're heading out."

"You don't have to do that. Go have fun! I'm just gunna sit here and try to calm down."

"No, I want to go. It's getting boring around here. Plus, I want to spend more time with you in that hotel bed." He wiped away the tears from my left cheek, giving me a gentle kiss and a little wink.

Driving down the road away from the party that put me in a panic, Colson broke my heart for one of the first times of many.

He laughed, "They were all worried about you. No one knew where you went. They all asked, 'Colson, where's your girlfriend?' Over and over. They liked you."

I hated that word. Girlfriend. I wasn't his girlfriend, and he wouldn't make it official. We had our fingers intertwined on the console. I squeezed his hand as the tears formed in my eyes.

"Babe, what's wrong?" he turned to me, concerned as he always was when I cried.

I couldn't bring the words out for a minute.

"I'm not your girlfriend though. I love you so much, and you won't be with me. Why, Colson?! You say you love me, but we're not together! It hurts so much. It hurts every goddamn day that you're not mine. And all those people calling me your girlfriend. They can see how we are together. They see that we act like a couple. So why aren't we?"

He gave the same old reasons I had heard a dozen times, and I'd hear a hundred more in the months to come. He didn't have anything to provide. He wasn't ready for a relationship. He was scared to give himself to someone and get hurt again.

When we got back to the hotel a little over an hour later, we just watched TV. He laid down, and I had my head on his chest. We shifted back and forth, laying in different positions. For a while we just stared at each other. Those eyes. They haunt me today. A phenomenon began that night. When I'd look at him for more than a few seconds, I would cry. He was so perfect. I know, nothing in this world is perfect. But when I looked at him, no words could describe it. Perfect is as close as words can get to describing what I saw laying in front of me. I felt so much love for him. How was it possible to feel this.. this immense passion for someone?

The next day when I drove him home I cried most of the way. He didn't ask any questions. He just held my hand, running his thumb back and forth across my fingers.

I dropped him off. He kissed me goodbye and before he shut the door, "Hey, I love you, okay?" I just nodded. "Say you love me too."

I squeaked out the words behind oncoming tears, "I love you too."

He smiled, shut the door, and walked up the driveway. I sat there for a minute, feeling more tears approaching. When I looked up he was standing by the door watching me. He was waving. How long had he been waving? I mustered up a smile and waved back. That was all he needed, and he turned around and walked inside.

What were we?