Limerence

XII

BLAKE MAXWELL

I paced in my room slowly and solemnly. I could not believe that after kissing Leah a second time, she still refused to disclose the true value of the kiss. How could she blatantly say to me that her feelings had nothing to do with me? She had been sharing her feelings with me since we were five and six years old. 

To tell me that her feelings were none of my business seriously went against everything we had promised to each other as children. I collapsed on my bed and felt a single tear roll down my cheek. Was there any pleasure in what she was doing to me? Was she aware? The single tear was followed by a second, and then another. I gazed at my ceiling and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars. They reminded me of that night in which our first kiss occurred. The tears began to multiply, and soon I was unable to see the stars on my ceiling. I didn't care though; those stars seemed to taunt my memories and remind me that A Place with Leah just did not exist. I was glad those stars were not in a specific constellation. 

My pillow became damp and the light outside of my house began to diminish. Soon it began to rain. Images of Leah's perfect smile filtered through my mind, one by one. My brain just could not let go of my obsession with her beauty. What was wrong with me? All of these years I had tried so hard to push these manifestations of Leah towards the back of my mind. Yet, they kept reappearing in my dreams, thoughts, and actions. I think that was the thing about loving someone like Leah - she was so divine in every shape and form that the world just had to know about her. It was as if there was a subconscious understanding that Leah was so unique and beautiful that everyone had to see what loving someone like her could do to someone's psychology. I was that unfortunate test subject. 

I began to visualize an amber hue rising around in my room; I'm not sure if the tint was a product of my imagination, but it seemed real. Then a strange but calming lavender scent filled the room. It was a nice smell, but it reminded me of Leah. That's what the smell was - a Leah smell. A Leah's amber colored hair smell, to be more precise. I basked in the amber smell because I figured this would be the last time I would be this close to her - even if it was total fiction.

It was at this moment that the doorbell rang, and I was awakened from my mirage. 

"Oh, hi! How's it going?" My dad asked the unknown visitor. 

"It's going well, Mr. Maxwell. How about yourself?" The unknown visitor was Leah. Why was she here? She was probably here to remind me that a world in which we could be together was never going to exist. She must have been here to tell me that we could never pursue something beyond the practicality of friendship. 

"It's going tremendously. Have you finished Pride and Prejudice?" Why was my dad so keen on discussing trivial things with her? Did he not know that she only looked for the pragmatics in relationships?

"Yes, sir. I enjoyed it profusely. Is Blake home?" She was here for me. My assumptions were correct; she was not here to discuss fine English literature with my father. No, she was here to remind me that our relationship was simply a friendly one. 

"Tremendous! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Austen truly is a master of humor and satire."

"Gosh, I know, right? The opening line sold it for me. I just love how literature can be so applicable to your life that it almost makes you forget about the actual events you're going through. I speak for novels such as The Catcher in the Rye."

I continued to listen to them talk downstairs while I turned my head on my side on the pillow. I watched the rain pour outside of my window while I mirrored that action with my own tears. It was almost too much for me to listen to her voice without being reminded of the painful consensus we had reached.