A Shoulder To Cry On

His arm about my waist, he guided me from the bar. Everything was blurry, tears staining my vision. I choked on my sobs, trying to hold them back. I didn’t understand why this guy was doing this, or why I was simply telling him everything. He seemed so attentive--this Loue man--and caring, I felt obliged to follow him were he guided me.

Gently he guided me away from the music, the dancing people, the laughter and shouts. On a quieter avenue overlooking a small park he found a bench and helped me set myself down, his arm still around me. He said nothing as I attempted to regain some of my composure. I rubbed my eyes, smearing some of my mascara and eye make-up on my hands. Why did I even put make-up on today knowing that at some point I was going to cry? “I need to stop crying,” I looked at my hands, half laughing through my tears. “I’m sorry; you probably don’t want to be around me. You can go back there if you want.”

“It’s alright,” he brushed some of my hair back gently. Heat washed over my cheeks, though my face as already red and swollen like a tomato from crying.

“Is this what you do?” I sniffed. I was in half-disbelief that he cared…and that he was so good-looking. “Find the most depressed girl at the bar, try to make her feel better, and earn a kiss or two?”

He laughed lightly, “Not usually.”

I sighed, looking skyward. The sky was clear tonight, though the stars were dimmed slightly by the city lights. Brushing aside another stray tear, I closed my eyes. “I loved him, I did,” I muttered. “Why was I so blind? He is such a….such a…jerk.” I opened my eyes and looked to Loue again, who was watching me patiently. I shook my head. “Why am I telling you all this? You don’t care.” I laughed. “You don’t even know me!”

He remained quiet, still gazing over my face, looking into my eyes. Taking his thumb, he traced my jaw bone, making his way up until he could carefully wipe the dampness from beneath my eyes. “I could think of five other words for jerk,” he murmured, making me smile. We silently stared at one another for a moment. It seemed for a brief second my tears dried, I didn’t feel compelled to cry, and I reveled in the short intimacy we shared, as if it calmed my torrent of emotions.

Loue bent closer, as if to reach for my lips, but it was just enough to wake me up from my dreamy state. I withdrew slightly. “I-I don’t think I’m ready to enter into another relationship just yet,” I whispered. Slowly, I stood and willed myself to start to turn and walk away, his eyes heavy on me the entire time.

“Will I ever see you again?” he called, his voice tugging at my heart. There was a certain desperation, a longing, which made me turn around to look at him again. Half of me wanted to stay, and half of me was frightened, still shell-shocked and heartbroken from my love being tossed away and shattered.

Even more slowly, I took a step towards him, though we were still a little ways apart. I reached for my handbag at my arm, shuffling through to only find a pen. “I can’t pronounce it….,” I began, scrawling the letters on his skin as gently as I could. “But this is where I’m staying.” Below it, I quickly wrote, ‘Susanna Hughs’. I looked up to meet his gaze, slightly blushing. He gave a half smile, entrancing me with his casual charm.

“Good night,” I murmured. Instinctively, I reached up and placed a quick kiss across his lips, a gentle brush and nothing more. Without another look, I flitted in the opposite direction, not glancing back, though I knew he was watching me.

Oh, what have I done now?

The End

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