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Author's Comments: It's an original, one shot story. Enjoy.
There is an old tire swing in the yard, the aging rope looped onto the branch of a tree that extended towards your house. I had become quite comfortable in that swing that particular night, my gaze settled on the light in your bedroom.
My sneakers had long since been able to reach the ground from the swing, and now, I could only barely rock back and forth. Still, the slight movement had been soothing. Our fifth grade English teacher, Ms. Guerrero, might have told me that it represented my current situation-- my indecision.
The light flickered off, and I wondered if you were lying in bed, staring at your computer screen-..waiting. I had told you to give me time to answer. Give me time to reply. Graciously, you allowed me to have my time to think silly thoughts, serious thoughts-..why me?!
I had been on this swing once before, a few years ago, when you had confided in me. You told me that you were sick that day, and I thought you meant something like a fever. I can remember the advice I had given you: 'Sleep it off, then.' You had flushed and laughed quite hard, leaving me completely clueless.
Then, you managed to whisper-- in the same shy way that you did that day-- exactly what ailed you: 'Eric, I don't like girls.' It was awkward afterwards, and I didn't wrestle with you that day. In fact, I avoided touching you, afraid that somehow-- illogically-- I might have caught those 'germs'.
That day's sentence had started the same way, and ended in quite the same fashion as well. We talked and joked, you teased me about girls and guys, then suddenly, you confessed. Your voice had fallen to a soft whisper and I had to strain to understand the words, but it really wasn't that hard.
'Eric..' The next three words made me choke on my drink, and unfortunately, you suffered the most. I still am sorry about spewing Pepsi all over you, but it was sudden. Sure, I had played with the idea that you might have liked me, and maybe you'd confess one day-..and my plan?
Oh, the plan was to turn you down gently and stay close to you as your best friend. But I couldn't do that either.
My hand released the rope that was scratching against my sensitive palm, and I reached into my pocket to take my cellphone. My thumb pressed '1' and 'Send'-- always number one on each other's phones-- then I waited for a ring.
Your voice message chimed in-- interruptions of laughters throughout, all of which were caused by the funny faces I had been giving you-- and I felt a stubborn knot form in my stomach. Really, this was the most discomfort I had ever felt..
"Yeah..it's me.." Casual, wasn't I? "Devon.." My tongue felt like it was becoming stuck to the roof of my mouth; surely that wasn't normal. "..I-" What had I wanted to say? Panic settled in and I realized I had never set out the words for this. God, why me?
"I-..I'm okay with it." It wasn't really much of an answer, was it? Too nervous and too scared that God might strike me down in some way, my thumb jabbed at the 'End' button, terminating the call with ease. My sneakers squeaked against the grassy blades of my lawn and I disappeared into the house again.
The swing continued to sway from my sudden departure, I'm sure, and my mind had done the same thing the entire night. You cost me seven hours of sleep that night. And now..since we're together..when I lie down at night to sleep, you cost me several more hours.
Because it isn't easy being in love with you-..it isn't easy guessing if I have made you happy yet.
So, some time-- tomorrow, or two days from now, even three years from now-- could you give me a hint? Don't put it into words, because I'm sure I won't understand. Just smile at me and let me see that I'm doing something right. Let me see that this feeling is somehow getting through to you..
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