My eyes
snapped open and I rolled over in bed, half expecting you to be there.
Because I swear I just felt you run your hand down the side of my cheek, the way
you used to do every morning. It was your way of waking me up, and I guess I
didn’t realize how much I missed it.
Until I rolled over and you weren’t there.
I dragged myself out of bed and trudged downstairs. I closed my eyes, breathing
in deeply, my nose searching for the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting
through the air.
But there was no coffee brewing.
Because you always made the coffee in the morning.
And I got used to that. Liked that you made coffee every morning, liked coming
downstairs to find you sitting indian style at the table, hunched over the paper,
brown hair standing up in every direction, coffee cup in hand.
I got used to the way you made me happy. The way you’d always know when
something was bothering me, and all you had to do was whisper those four little
words in my ear and it made everything seem ok again.
“I love you, Justin.”
I miss the nights where we’d sit up until three in the morning, just talking
about nothing in particular. You’d notice a painting hanging crooked on the
wall and go on about it for hours, and boring as it was, those were some of the
best hours of my life.
Or when I’d get so frustrated about a song I was working on, or a dance step,
because I just couldn’t seem to get it right. You could always make me laugh
at myself and realize that I was making a big deal out of nothing.
I got used to rolling over at night and finding you there. Wrapping my arms
around your waist, letting my fingers dance along your hipbones until you
pressed back against me.
Got used to the way your name sounded on my lips when you touched me in just the
right spot.
“Josh…”
Got used to making love to you all night long.
I stare out at the trees, watching the wind rustle the leaves, and god am I
lonely.
“I need my independence, JC.”
The look in your eyes broke my heart a million times over, but I thought I was
doing the right thing. I’m only twenty years old, I need to be on my own,
right? Not be tied down when I’m so young.
Yeah, right. Look where me and my so called independence got me.
I should have been careful what I wished for. I’ve got my freedom, all right.
And so much more.
I’ve got loneliness. I’ve got fear. I’ve got regrets.
And I miss you.
God, JC, I miss you so much.
So now I’m sitting here listening to this damn Tim McGraw cd. Where the hell
did I get this, anyway? Must be from Lance’s collection.
And there’s this song, and I suppose the song is what’s making me realize
what a huge mistake I made, what an idiot I was.
I guess you get used to somebody, kinda like havin them around, guess you get
used to the way they make you happy, bring you up when you’re feeling down…
I never dreamed when I was letting you go that I would wake up and miss you this
much…
Do you know what I want right now, JC? I want you to be here, sitting at the
kitched table, drinking your coffee.
And I want to come downstairs, kneel down beside you, and wrap my arms around
you, just so you’ll kiss the top of my head the way you always do.
I don’t want my freedom anymore, JC.
I only want you.
***
I knocked at the door and waited for him to answer, picking at my nails as the
minutes passed by.
When the door finally clicked open and I saw him standing there, I felt like I
got the wind knocked out of me.
He looked…
God, he looked beautiful. Sad, lonely, upset, yes. But beautiful none the less.
His blue eyes widened when he saw me, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I
shook my head, silencing him.
He closed his mouth and looked to the floor, tears brimming in his eyes. I put a
finger beneath his chin and tilted his face up to mine.
“I got your letter.”
He nodded, not sure what he should do or say, so I pulled him to me and kissed
the top of his head.
Because I got used to that, too.