500 Words a Day

31 January, 2008; 509 Words

It is a fact, one which even I barely believe myself, that I have fallen for a girl.  It was not my intent for this to happen, but it has, and I am afraid I am going to pay dearly for it.  It's not enough that I am going to leave this state forever in two months.  It's not even enough that I am a white male and that she is a black female.  Further, it is not enough that we are co-workers, myself as her superior.  Moreso, she has a boyfriend in a long-distance relationship. 

Regardless of these stark facts, we flirt all day long at work.  I cannot help myself; I find her devastatingly attractive and intellectually objective.  For weeks I have fought her coy advances.  I have made myself to seem like a bad man.  She will not stop though, and she will not hate me, and she will not stop innocently loving me.  I fight, but I don't fight.  I catch myself consciously doing subtle things that I know I should not.

Today, she invited me to lunch; we planned to meet at a restaurant we mutually loved dearly, but never went to together.  I was there on time.  The place was packed and I had to illegaly park just to wait for her; I was completely stressed out, even though I shouldn't have been.  I went inside and made a long thorough scan of the restaurant and ascertained that she was not present.  I left, went to my car, and waited a couple minutes.  I didn't wait long, expecting that I had been stood up.  I went back to work, sat in my car, ate some chips, and at the prescribed time to return, I returned.  I dreaded having to see her, somewhat.

She walks in a little late and I put on my best demeanor.  She tells me that she was there, and that she looked for me.  She was a little late though, and I feel very guilty and tell her that I am sorry.  Of course, for anyone listening, this whole conversation would have seemed completely innocent.  I know better, and she does to.  We know it when we look at each other.  I catch out of the corner of my eye, even after it turns out that I stand her up, her looking at me. 

It's the little things that matter.  The words spoken directly between lovers are only affirmations of what they already know.  Love is determined by a look.  Neither a glance, nor a stare are adequate.  No.  I am referring to an introspective look.  A glance not at the eyes but into the eyes.  One knows when they receive this look, even more so than when they consciously give it. 

We looked at each other this way after the lunch episode today, this was when I knew that she forgave me, that nothing had changed, that we would look forward to each other's company tomorrow. 

This is now, and will probably ever be, the story of my life.