Vacant

I drive and can't help that my emotions are all over the place. I'm angry because I've been living in exile from the one... The one person who gives a shit whether I live or die... I left her alone to fend for herself.

 

I take my rage out on the steering wheel before pulling over; I need a minute to collect myself.

 

Two minutes.

 

Five...

 

It takes me half an hour before I'm calm enough to continue driving, but I rush because I want to get back to her. I want to touch her, be with her. I realize how fundamentally wrong I've been about my feelings for her. While I thought I was doing what was best for Emily, I never considered that I was really just protecting myself. I hadn't taken her feelings into account. I hadn't thought about what I was doing to her by leaving...and in the same accord, making her declaration of love, trivial.

 

The anger fades and misery takes its place.

 

I'm sad because I miss her. I need her more than air.

 

I need air, and I need Emily.

 

Air is so much easier.

 

Before long, fear sets in. What if she isn't there when I get back? Why would she be? I left her by herself for six days after I swore I'd take care of her.

 

I think about what I did as I continue down the lonely stretch of highway.

 

I worked so hard to separate myself from the drama and emotions of everyday life realizing I haven't been living at all. I think of all the time I've wasted; all the time I could have been with her - been with her...

 

Her legs are bare and slender. I imagine what's just beyond the small rectangle of terry cloth. Her hair tickles the tops of her breasts, teasing me with what's just beyond the knot of the towel. One small flick and she'd be naked before me, her body as fantastic as I've always imagined.

 

My foot pushes a little harder on the accelerator as my frustration builds.

 

I'm tired and feeling the effects of driving ten hours straight. As I consider pulling over, the guilt seeps in again. I've already been away from her for too long. I can't stand to be apart from Emily any longer, but the seconds continue to tick by and I can't seem to get there fast enough. I push on, despite being a danger to others on the road due to my exhaustion. I see a gas station ahead, and force myself off the road and into the brightly lit convenience store. After hours of lonesome interstate travel, the intense glow of the fluorescent lights hurts my eyes, and only serves to remind me of the dim nature of my existence without Emily. I make quick work of refueling the car and myself and then rejoin the blacktop.

 

Finally, finally, I see the mile marker indicating my journey is almost over, an hour to go before I'm back with Emily. Anxiety weighs heavily on me because I think I could have gotten here faster; what if she just left? What if she's been waiting for the last week and that was her limit?

 

I shouldn't have left in the first place. I should have told her how I felt so we could be living a happily ever after. Regret won't change things, though. It doesn't serve any purpose now.

 

I pass the city limits sign, and a smile spreads across my face. I'm happy and hopeful. A hundred and one scenarios play out in my head as to how Emily will react when she sees me.

 

She throws open the screen door and rushes towards me. I catch her in my arms and spin her around. I tell her I love her and want to spend eternity with her. She smiles and says she wants the same thing...

 

We barely make it to the bedroom before I fully make her mine...

 

I open the door and call her name but no one answers. All her things are gone, and she's nowhere to be found...

 

As I make my way up the walk, she stops me and tells me she doesn't ever want to see me again. That I broke her heart and I'm a fuck-up she wants nothing to do with...

 

I'm brought out of my thoughts as a car horn blares behind me. Dawn has broken and there is slight traffic moving about. I'm not sure how long I've been sitting at the stop sign on the corner before the car behind me demands attention.

 

It's now or never, and never isn't an option.

 

I stand at the door, my door - her door - ready to knock. It occurs to me how odd this is; I'm about to knock on my own door. Suddenly, I'm embarrassed. I look down and my clothes are dirty and unkempt. I smell - it's been two days since I've cleaned up at all. How can I look her in the eye, kiss her lips, hug her body, when I look and smell like a homeless man?

 

I am homeless, though. Without her, without her love and care and warm eyes, I'm a man with a heart that has no home.

 

So I knock.