Reopen the Door

"Have we met before?” Those words stung. Out of all the people in the world to say those four words it had to be him. Why him? I thought I was strong enough but all it took was four words. Four measly, meaningless words and I’m back to square one, reliving every feeling, emotion, and memory. All within a second I lost everything. I wanted to yell, scream, and beg for him to remember. Remember what he did and how he left, what we had and what we lost, I want him to remember everything. I came here to be with him yet he doesn’t even know who I am. I know I need to accept his decision and move on but I can't, I won't. I know the man that I loved, the man that loved me is in there somewhere hidden deep down, he just needs help getting out. He notices a tear run down my cheek and goes to wipe it away but I wipe it away first, not giving him a chance to redeem himself, especially not when he doesn’t know what he did. Then everything stops; I hear her. The woman that caused this, the woman he chose over me. My blood is boiling. I try to take deep breaths to help suppress the up-rising anger I know I won’t be able to control if I slip up. She thinks she holds the power in this situation while making snarky remarks about me showing up even though I’m the one on the emergency contact list not her, they only called her once he woke up. This whole situation should’ve been enough for me to leave, but I couldn’t convince myself to, but after this, after her showing up and trying to make me feel inferior, I have no problem leaving. I start thinking about this whole situation and wonder if it’s that easy for him to forget about me, it’s clear I was never important to him in the first place. You know it’s better like this way anyways, I mean I wanted him out of my life and now I have a way out. He says one thing as I’m about to walk out the door that stops me in my tracks. He says, “I’m sorry”. I turn around to look at the man who left me during my lowest but he’s not there and for once in my life I can look him in the eye and I can feel something I’ve never felt from him before; remorse. “I don’t know who you are but I can tell you are in pain just by my presence.” His wife looks at me with fear in her eyes, and tries to distract him from me. He mumbles something to her and she leaves slamming the door behind her, leaving just him and I left in the room. Something in the air shifts, him and I both feel it. Patting the bed for me to come sit down next to him, I know I shouldn't. I know I should leave, but my body doesn’t listen and moves on its own despite the thoughts that spiral within me. Within seconds, I’m sitting next to a man who I don’t recognize anymore. That’s all we do, we just sit and the silence speaks for itself. I can tell he’s at a loss for words but he tries. It’s sad because that’s more than he would even do before. Finally he says, “Tell me about who I was, the good and the bad. I want to know everything even if it hurts.” I start by telling him he was a noble man who cared for everyone, a wonderful husband who would never come home with a frown on his face even if he had the worst day he wouldn’t show it. I tell him about how his eyes would light up when he saw his daughter, and how inseparable they were from each other. I would tell him about all the amazing adventures we’d go on together, all three of us. I feel my heart start to warm, remembering all the amazing times we’d spent together. Then a tear falls. I want it to be of happiness, of the love I had buried with anger and pain, but it wasn’t and he could tell. A worried look spills across his face yet I find the courage to tell him about what started all of this in the first place. The one thing I told myself I wouldn’t bring up and would finally stop blaming him for all the hurt and pain I carry. The accident that killed her, my mom. I told him the exact words he told me the night of her funeral when I walked in on him and my aunt shared a bed, “She ruined my life and you honestly think I could love her? You’re just as pathetic.” I told him how I was only ten when she died, how I lost both parents in one day. I didn’t go into detail about what happened after, I only said what was necessary and not for him but for me, I would do anything not to relive those moments that haunt me. I told him how they got married on July 28, exactly two months after the funeral and how she was fully moved in a week after. I showed him the scares left on my body not for him to feel sorry, but for him to understand the true depths of his actions. I feel a hand on my knee and it’s hard not to flinch, yet I got the courage to look away from the spot on the ground where my eyes would’ve burned a hole into if possible. He doesn’t say anything or look at me for a few seconds, he just sits and breathes. Somehow I get the feeling that he understands the pain I’ve lived through. He finally says something, but he’s not asking for an acceptance to an apology or anything like that, he says another four words. Words I never thought I’d hear from him in a million years, he says “I’m proud of you.” I lose everything, my entire composure is crushed and again it’s over four stupid words. “It’s okay to cry.” I pause. “From what you’ve told me I can tell I’ve hurt you severely, but I’m glad you told me.” He pauses, “I know you probably want nothing more than to yell at me, to hurt me in all the ways I hurt you and more and I wish I could tell you wholeheartedly that I’m not the man I was before but I can’t because I don’t know. One thing I do know is that facing the things that have hurt you, that have caused you pain, takes much more than living through it because you’re having to go through it again.” Hesitant, I finally let the wall fall, but only enough for a crack to break through. “I’m proud of You.” He says it again. Over and over I repeat those words in my head. The words I’ve longed to hear, the words that I thought would finally help me heal and recover from everything I’ve been through, and he says them so peacefully. I gulp back my sobs and try to contain the tears that want to escape so desperately. I can’t let him see me like this, he doesn’t even know who I am and yet I’m here reliving everything just for him to scratch the surface of understanding who he was. I stand up abruptly, telling him I should go. I don’t want to, everything in my soul has been craving this affection for so long and I finally have it, but it’s not right. I feel like I’m suffocating, overpowered with emotions for a man I never wanted to see again. My legs feel weak but I don’t care, I need to get out. He doesn’t try to stop me, I have a feeling he knows I’m not okay. As I open the door I look back, “I need more time.” He nods with an understanding smile across his face as I walk out, closing the door I never thought in a million years would be reopened.