november

the in-between is almost worse than nothing at all. because when there's nothing, teresa agnes decides, you get peace of mind. you get closure, or maybe you don't, but either way, you know that there was a definite end, a break, a termination. you know something has ended and you know that something will not be again.

but in the in-between, there is no closure and no peace of mind. there is half-hearted kisses and compliments that sound too saccharine to be genuine. there are 'forgotten' text messages and subtle insults. the lover you once knew is now a stranger.

teresa gazes at the short-haired girl walking next to her, and pretends her throat doesn't burn when she realizes she does not know brenda despain.

she knows her in the physical sense- could call to mind the slope of her nose and glint in her eyes at a moment's notice, has memorized the curve of her hips and the taste of her lips like the back of her own hand.

yet she doesn't truly know brenda anymore. she knows the girl across from her watches Shameless religiously and can't stand mint chip ice cream. knows she has wanted a cat her entire life despite being horribly allergic, and frequently blasts one direction when they're driving. but none of these things seem relevant when who brenda despain is is as much of a mystery to her than the old man a few feet away from them walking his beagle.

her coat and scarf dull the bite of the november air, but teresa shivers.

"so." says brenda, hands in her pockets, "you said we needed to talk."

teresa nods, turning her ring absently around her finger, "i feel like things have been off with us. for a while now."

off is an understatement, she doesn't say. 'off' doesn't encapsulate the growing feeling of discomfort, the resentment she feels brewing between the two of them. it doesn't feel 'off', it feels like their world, their tiny solar system, is collapsing in on itself. and the two planets in said system, that once orbited each other, are slowly but surely spinning off their axis, slowly but surely drifting apart into different galaxies.

"explain." says brenda, and teresa tries her best to explain why she thinks silence in the place of talks late into the night, nights spent apart in unknown places, and no apparent interest by either party in the other's life constitute the beginning of the end for a relationship.

their relationship, in particular.

"you think we're growing apart?" she asks, and teresa twists the ring faster as the two of them walk with nearly enough room for another person between them.

"i guess you could say it that way." teresa replies, "and i think whatever it is isn't sitting well with the two of us."

"what are you trying to say?" brenda stops abruptly to face teresa, and her breath makes little white clouds when she speaks, her voice rough like broken glass and unshed tears, "you want to break up?"

teresa hesitates, and for a second she considers trying to explain the logistics of the in-between she feels they're in to her girlfriend, but decides against it.

"i'm saying it feels like part of whatever we are's already broken. and if you feel the same way, the question is whether or not we should try to fix it."

the words hang between them for a moment before brenda adds, "or if we can even fix it at this point."

teresa thinks of the texts she sees on brenda's phone in passing, the strange numbers and the flirty messages they deliver, the texts brenda always replies to, leaving teresa's open to do so. and the nights she spends alone in their apartment, brenda god-knows-where.

the barely-hidden sneer on brenda's lips on the rare instances they speak, the cruelty in her voice where there once was kindness.

and the bitter jealousy she finds in not always being brenda's priority. her childlike envy, the excessive hatred she harbors for the unknown phone numbers.

it's overwhelming, she realizes, her desire to be number one, brenda's favorite, her priority. second may not be the same, but most people can work past that and she can't seem to. it's the first time teresa realizes just how much she is to contend with- maybe she hides it from brenda, but she can't hide it from herself.

so she decides the blame in the collapse of whatever-they-are falls equally between the two of them, and whispers, "or if there's anything left to save."

she's surprised to find herself blinking back tears, and swallows hard, focusing her vision at a point over brenda's shoulder.

"so this is it?" asks brenda, voice raspy.

"i guess so." teresa replies, and it's barely a whisper. she doesn't meet brenda's eyes, not when she sees her sharp nod, sees her turn and walk away.

it doesn't snap, but rather fizzle, sputter, fade. the two of them fell apart the way they fell in love- slowly, and then suddenly. all at once.

she feels guilt clawing in her stomach, and knows she won't be able to ignore it. so despite her mind and body screaming for her to walk away, she forces her voice to be steady, and calls out to brenda, "i'm sorry."

brenda pauses to face her, and teresa sees tears streaming down her face, red with cold and grief when she shakes her head, "i am too."

teresa nods, and her tears are warm against her november-chilled skin.