You Reap What You Sow

“Can you give us a minute here?”

His father take a long look at me before retreating into his home, and I feel a chill race up my spine, despite the warmth of the Phoenix evening.

We are alone now.

His beautiful eyes are calculated and cold as he turns them on me. I take a breath and attempt to be brave by meeting them.

Exhaling smoke from his nose, he asks, “What can I help you with?”

My thoughts racing, I debate how to answer this question, which is said in a way that I am no more than a peasant requesting service with a king.

I want him to smile...to tell me he loves me...to whisk me away as it happens in the movies.
I tell him this...and that I knew it wouldn’t be like that.

“That’s why it’s the movies – it isn’t like that.”

I want him to see I know I was wrong.
Looking at him, feeling his silent anger, knowing I put him through what I did...
I would die to erase the look on his face.

“What did you come here for? Forgiveness?”, he asks.

Would forgiveness really help either of us at this point? Am I looking for closure? A friend? A lover? All of which I had before... What am I doing here?

I want him to see that I taste the pain, bright; the regret, colorful...the burn of knowing he believes every word out of my mouth is false.
How can I blame him for that?

The thought he is over me is like a sickness; it infects my heart.
He refuses to believe I love him, I care for him, I want him, I need him.

He does not hate me, of this I am sure.
His disgust for me, and disappointment in me, is far, far worse.

“You reap what you sow”, he remarks, turning away, dismissing me.