Desperate

It’s been weeks since Exceitment left me. Weeks since I’ve felt his embrace and had his lips touch thte tender spot at the base of my neck. Weeks since his large rough hand enveloped my small one.

We’ve talked on the phone a few times. Long, awkward conversations about the wather, Bubba and the trucks he’s been working on. At the end of our last talk I gathered up my courage and whispered “I miss you.”

There was no hesitation as he repeated the words back but the next words came more slowly. “But I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“You’ve found someone else, haven’t you?” I asked.

“No, there’s just you. I can’t even look at anyone else that way. I still love you.” He responded earnestly.

“Then what’s the problem? If it’s the drinking we can beat it together.”

“I haven’t had a drink since I left.”

I felt the hope start to swell in my chest. “That’s great! Then we can be together!” I sounded desperate and I didn’t even care.

“Not yet. I need more time. I need to know I really beat this. Besides, you can do better than me. In fact,” his voice cracked a little, “I think we should start seeing other people.”

“I don’t’ want to see other people. I want you. I need you. I love you.” I felt myself starting to cry.

“Take care, Baby Girl.” He said and hung up the phone. I tried to call back but he’d turned his phone off.