Because of my laziness and a slew of other distracting things, I have been very inconsistent with my writing. Therefore, I have posed a challenge to myself.

For the next 52 consecutive weeks, one year, I will produce one work of writing per week. 52 works in total. Maybe for once I’ll actually get something done…

So here goes…

Week 1: Not a Word

I’ve known her for twelve years. We grew up on the same street, went to the same school, and now we are roommates. I didn’t just ask her to stay just so she could split the rent with me. I just couldn’t stand the thought of another guy asking her to move in when they got serious. I know, a stupid move of jealousy, but I couldn’t help myself.
    You see, I had fallen absolutely in love with her. I have been for some time now. Unfortunately I’m the biggest coward anyone could ever know.
    We were close, and sometimes it was enough that I could pretend. I could pretend that when I held her it was more than just a friendly gesture. I could pretend that when I kissed her forehead it was more than just a sign of endearment. I could pretend that when she cried on my shoulder that I was the only one she wanted to make her happy. I could pretend that when she smiled at me it was with the same love I felt for her.
    She started going out with this guy. I hated him for no better reason than the fact that he held her in his arms and the way she sighed when he kissed her neck. She would come home from their evenings out and tell me about how wonderful he was, how sweet he was, and how much in love she was with him. It made my gut twist itself painfully, but nevertheless the friendly smile she knew of me was plastered on my face unwaveringly.
    One night she stormed into the apartment. I was sprawled out on the couch in only my boxers unceremoniously, not expecting her to arrive home from her date this early. The air about her was stormy, and her fists clenched and unclenched as she restrained herself from acting out her anger.
    I quickly grabbed the throw blanket beside me on the couch and wrapped it around my lower body as I stood up. “What happened?” I asked her.
    She turned her eyes on me, glistening with unshed tears. For a moment she did nothing but look at me, and I couldn’t help but stare into her bright green orbs. Red hot anger boiled inside me as I wondered what that bastard could have possibly done to make this beautiful woman in front of me so distressed.
    I saw the anger in her eyes slowly extinguish. Her shoulders began to slump, her teeth unclenched, and the thin line of her lips began to curl downwards. As her defenses fell, a whimper escaped her lips. I instantly gathered the girl in my arms just as the tears began to fall and the sobs began to shake her petite frame. Her small arms wrapped themselves around my torso holding me tight as my own encircled her shoulders, a hand gently resting on her head.
     She calmed down soon enough, and we stood silently in the center of the apartment.
    “What did that bastard do to you?” I uttered the question that had been thrashing about inside my head.
    “There was another woman. How could I have been so stupid?” her hoarse voice whispered.
    Unsuredly I replied with the first thing that came to mind, “He never knew how lucky he was, and now he never will.”
    “What do you mean?” She lifted her head to look him in the eye.
    “You are the sweetest, most beautiful woman there is. You’re strong, smart, caring, just incredible. If the bastard couldn’t figure it out, he doesn’t deserve you. Quite frankly, I have a hard time believing there’s anyone out there that deserves you.”
    This answer got me the desired result. She smiled as she faintly chuckled. “Thank you. You are too sweet. Your future wife will be so lucky to have you as a husband. You know all the right things to say.” My heart broke a little, but I smiled anyway.
    “You think so?” I laughed half-heartedly.
    “I know so.”
    “Why, pray tell, do you know so?”
    She pulled me to couch where I sat and she curled herself up next to me.
    “Let me count the ways,” she laughed.
    She began to list things about me that she liked. I didn’t listen to her as I gazed at her longingly. I cursed at myself inwardly trying to make sense of myself. I was such a coward. Why was it so hard to tell her that I love her? I was afraid of what might happen. I was afraid of never holding her in my arms again once she knew what it meant to me. I was afraid of never kissing her on the forehead again because she would know what I really wanted to kiss. I was afraid of no longer being her shoulder to cry on. I was afraid that never again would she smile for me.
    “… hello? You still there?” her voice called me back to reality.
    “Oh, sorry. I got lost in thought.”
    “I think I’m going to go to bed,” she said through a yawn.
    “Alright. Sleep tight.”
    She smiled at me. My heart skipped a beat. She leaned towards me and kissed my cheek. “Good night, Sweetie.”
    I watched her retreating form disappear behind her bedroom door, my heart breaking into a million pieces. My feet moved without permission, the throw blanket long forgotten now lay on the floor. I stood in front of her door. I wanted nothing more than to throw open the door, pull her into my arms, and tell her everything. My hands itched to knock on the door, reach for the doorknob, pull the bloody door from its hinges, anything to remove the obstacle in front of me.
    But you know what I did do? I turned around and quietly padded to my own room across the hall. I got into bed and pulled the sheets up to my chin. I stared at the wall wondering why it didn’t just fall on me.
    I was a coward, an insufferable coward. I will live the rest of my days as a coward. I will regret the decision I had just made for the rest of my life because I was afraid, and I never did anything about it. I watched her find another man. I watched her marry him. I watched her have children with him. I watched her look at him with so much love in her eyes. I watched myself die inside.