Will We Talk? ~ A PG10 Short Story

8. Running from your issues

Title from: in my head by Ari

As soon as I realise Pierre's gone from the other end of the phone it's like something in me springs to life.

He'll be leaving. I know he will be. And whilst before I didn't really want to let him inside (or see him at all for that matter), I can't not have answers. I fish for the keys to my door in my bag which I'd tossed carelessly on the floor by the door and clumsily slide on some random sandals onto my feet before throwing open the door to the apartment, letting it slam behind me as I jog towards the exit. I'll just have to hope that the lock caught it on the way closed.

I run down the stairs best I can, taking them two at a time where my short legs will reach, unable to take the suspense of the elevator ride down. The thought of being stood still, not taking action, knocking me nauseous. Being able to move somehow seems to lessen my anxiety, I'm not sure how much by though. I can feel my hands shaking as I reach the ground floor and push open the main door to the building. It takes me one attempt too many to grasp onto the handle with the wobble in my fingers.

I don't know what I want to say to Pierre. I just know we can't leave it like this. The state our relationship is in I fear that we'll never speak again. He can't leave again, not like this.

"Pierre?!" The name calls from my lips as I squint my eyes, looking for any sign of him. Looking back to the spot where he dropped me earlier I spot the black 4x4, which is apparently his for the week. I take back up the jogging, trying to reach the car before it can drive away. My heart rate rises as the lights of the car flicker on and the engine comes to life, humming lowly in the quiet of the suburban street.

He is leaving.

I knew it. My heart sinks, still pounding heavily as I reach the last metre before the vehicle.

"Pierre!" I shout the name this time as he wipes a hand over his face behind the window. He hasn't heard the call of his name inside the car. When my hand knocks almost urgently against the glass of the passenger window Pierre starts in his place, turning to me slowly. He stares at me blankly for a few seconds, as if his eyes have to adjust to see me infront of him. He just blinks at me slowly and I pull on the door to the car, trying to get inside but it's locked.

"Pierre." I repeat his name once more and he presses the button to scroll the window down. The glass moves painfully slowly and when it's gone I lose my breath slightly. He still looks as good as earlier but more tired and with faint red circles around his eyes.

Has he been crying?

"P..." I breathe, the nickname slips from my lips without much thought. What do I say? What do you say to somebody who confessed their love to you whilst you were sleeping eighteen months ago? What can possibly I possibly say that will make anything okay?

"I can't do this with you right now Ellie." He says bluntly and I blink. First from processing the words, next in puzzlement.

"I'm sorry?" I ask in confusion, wanting clarity over the situation more than anything. What does he mean he can't do this?

"It's too much. I can't do this. I thought I could but I can't." The engine is still running as my mouth opens in surprise. My eyebrows furrowing. He can't do this? Yeah, this seems like a really tough time for him.

"No." The word comes out harsher than I intend. It's firm and full of the refusal that's stirred up inside of me. Pierre just blinks at me, I think a little taken back at the instruction.

"You don't get to come back, take me on this...hell of an emotional rollercoaster and then decide you can't do this." I huff. It's not fair of him to do this. "You can't tell me that you love me in a way I didn't even know about then just run away." I can feel myself beginning to crumble. It's a little too dramatic but I can't help it. It's been a tough day. A tear slips from my right eye. "What the fuck does 'I can't do this with you right now' mean Pierre?" I snap a little louder this time.