She Protests Too Much

     

         “Yes,” she continued, a laugh in her voice. “But we were kids then.  I was in love, and didn’t know better.”

         On the other end of the line, he paused, then pounced.  “So you admit it!  You were in love with me all those years ago!”

         She flustered, but recovered.  “Oh, well, I was!  But really, it’s not like you didn’t know.”  Even with her admittance, she was defensive.

         He turned it back on her.  “Yea, I guess I did know, but why didn’t you ever say anything?  You could’ve just told me.”

         She scoffed.  “Yea, right.  That’s what every girl dreams of:  professing their love to a guy who they know will reject them.”

         He softened his tone.  “Oh, come on, I was never like that.  I never would’ve hurt your feelings.  You know that.  Not if I could help it.”

         She walked over to the window.  “I guess I know that…I do.  And I know you had your reasons for not…not feeling the same way, but still, it would’ve been…humiliating.”  She paused, lightly grazing her fingers over the glass, following the lines of raindrops that slid down the pane.  Now she spoke softly.  “I just couldn’t do it.”

         He waited a moment before he spoke again.  “And now?”

         “And now what?”  she asked, perplexed.

         “How do you feel about me now?”          

         Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, then two.  Her grip on the phone tightened.  “What kind of question is that?”

         His voice became deeper, more intense.  “A pretty direct one, I’m sure.  Do you love me now?”

         Her fingers stopped their graceful dance on the window.  Suddenly, swallowing was difficult.  “Don’t—don’t be silly!  That was twenty years ago! So many things have changed since then! We’re different people—“

         “Hey, you’re rambling.  It’s a simple question.  Do you still love me?”

         Her mind reeled back twenty years, to the kids they were then.  Inseparable, but not together.  Not together in the way she had ever hoped or imagined.           

         “Still there?”

         She closed her eyes, and saw him there:  the square line of his jaw, the twinkle in his smile.  “No, of course not.”  Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and butterflies skittered about her belly.  “No, you and I are just friends.  That’s all, and nothing more.”

         Behind her the front door opened and shut.  “Honey,” a voice called out to her.  “I’m home.”