Because She Had Wanted Him To, Part II
Zaben

Part I is here

?Well??

?I?m sorry, could you just give me a second please? Just one goddamn second is all I?m asking for, honey.?

?Fine.?

He didn?t mean to say it; he didn?t want anything to upset her more than he knew she already was, but he couldn?t stop himself. It was almost second-nature to him now; she would say something that upset him, perhaps to get back at him for the little jabs he?d always given her, and he would become livid for the briefest moment in time, thoughts of hurting her cascading through his mind at incomprehensible speeds and then vanishing, the only trace being the cut back at her for her jab, as if to say, ?How could you be insolent enough to try to hurt me?? But it did hurt him; every harsh word from her, every slightly angered tone of voice, every moment of disgust she showed him pierced the very core of his being. He loved her deeply, but she didn?t love him back, and he knew she never would. So he had to attack her; he had to punish her for not loving him, for putting him through such pain. And when she tried to hurt him back, to add the sting of an insult like the ones he constantly assaulted her with to the pain she already caused him, he snapped for that half-second, and his eyes turned calmly dark, like an unstoppable torrent that was his to unleash, his to command. But they still shone with the cold logic that was always there, and shortly returned to normal. He took another drag of his cigarette, smaller this time, and slowly exhaled.

She was becoming furious now; she thought about leaving, running out and leaving him there, never to see him again. She never could before, and even though she knew that tonight must be the end, must be the last time, she still couldn?t. Part of her was still weakened by his presence, as if he commanded the air around him, and her with it. Part of her was disgusted by him, thought of him as a shriveling weakling who she could command. But somehow he always had the upper hand, and nothing angered her more. So mostly, she was just angry with him. All things said and done, she felt a general sense of anger at the sight of him, and a great deal of anger interacting with him. She tapped her fingernails on the menu, waiting.

?Okay, this is it. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. Don?t let it go to your head, but never, ever let anyone tell you that you?re not beautiful. My jaw drops when I see you. My heart stops; you take my breath away. And I love you. I?m sorry. I know you can see that. And I know you don?t love me. And I know you never will, maybe you never could have. But that?s it. I had to tell you. I had to tell you because, well, I?m leaving. I can?t do this to you anymore, I can?t let you do this to me, and I can?t do it to myself. I have to go. I?m sorry. Goodnight.?

He threw a few dollars on the table, quickly put out his cigarette, and hurried away before she could say a word.

She watched him through the window, getting into his car, leaving. Leaving her. She looked down at the table, a thin string of smoke rising from the ashtray and his still-burning cigarette. Then she reached into the pocket of the coat behind her and took out her red gloves. She held them in her hands on the table in front of her, starring. Then she realized she was crying. Crying because she understood everything now. Crying because she had understood it all along, but had never admitted it to herself. Crying because he had left and she had lost him. But most of all, crying because she had wanted him to. She put on her gloves, right hand first, then left. She stood up, took her coat off her chair, put it on, and walked outside into the cold night.