The Hermit Coward
His eyes…this is the first time I look in his eyes. They’re so big and a hazel that seems to me like it’s always changing.
“He told me loved me,” I said. “That we were meant to be. He said we’d be together, in some way or another, forever. ‘Until we die.’ What a lie!”
I look back into the deep pools of swirling green, blue and amber. He gives me a look. The most perfect listener look. Tim had one exactly like it. I turn my head away.
“What happened then? Did he…”
“He just never loved me as much as I did. He never needed me as much as I needed him. It hurt, the needing.”
“Ah!”
“Share your enlightenment, please.”
“Please?” He smiles, teasing.
I manage a smile.
“I get it. You vowed never to need anyone again. He broke your promise, so you ran away and hid from it, making sure you’d never have to come in contact with him, or anyone else you might love, for the rest of your life. You know, for someone who comes off like she was raised by black bears, you sure are a coward.”