You asked me to cut my hair. At first, I thought you were just joking, but you suddenly gave me a look of a 5-year old kid who doesn’t want to eat vegetables and insisted that I should cut it. I remember the first time we met, your eyes were a miner of gold, marveled by my straight long hair and you told me to keep it ‘cos it cost an arm and a leg to you.
You told me that you were sad, so I left my office early to surprise you with a box of your favorite donuts. Unfortunately, I got stuck in traffic. I told you to wait for me for a couple of minutes because I had something, but…you told me that you were already out with your friends and you asked me to go home instead. I kept my dismay inside the box of a failed surprise hoping that you’d be able to grasp it.
You were happy. You were happy because you finally finished the series that you were binge watching. You were happy because you were able to sleep more than 7 hours. You were happy because you made a perfect sunny side up. You were happy because your friend was getting married and when I told you that we would get to that point; you paused and that pause was the loudest rejection I have ever heard.
We did not see each other. The first message I received was a “thank you.” I was glad that you finally checked the gift I gave you 2 days prior. I replied with a message that rivaled Neruda’s poems about love. You replied with a heart emoji. That was then the last message I received from you that day.
I asked what was wrong. You answered by asking the same question. I talked turkey while you ran a mile. I couldn’t remember the last time you answered in complete sentence.
You spoke in fragments and fillers and verbal nods. Your “good morning” was a flat text written on the wind and your cryptic messages became harder and harder to decipher. It had been a while since the last time I saw your “good night” and lately, I had instead been receiving plain and templated 2-minute phone calls telling me to sleep early or just, “honey, I’m busy I’ll call you back.”
Your gestures reminded me of the final days of spring—beautiful but fading—as well as the beginning of winter; cold. When we were together, it felt like a long distance relationship. We were holding hands, but the feeling was empty. I missed you. I missed you so, so badly even though you were just beside me.
I cut my hair. I cut my hair with the hopes that it might save us. It sounded like bullshit, I know, but I ran out of reasons why you were aloof or why it seemed like you were half-hearted or why I felt uncomfortable with peace. I cut my hair. You said I looked better. That was a relief.
Kissing became awkward to you. Every touch seemed offensive.
Day 10… 11, 12, 13, 14
We did not talk.
I said sorry. I apologized for something that I wasn’t even certain of. I apologized for not initiating a conversation. I apologized for asking for too much of your time. I apologized for being not enough. I didn’t want to get used to it, but I didn’t want to get rid of it either, so I apologized. Please.
We were together, but in between your silence and my loneliness, I found closure.
We stopped talking and from day one until this day, I knew, it was over.