Your Future or Ours

Where are you? The question runs through my mind almost constantly as I shove past people to get past the crowd. My plane is boarding. My bags are packed. Of course, you don’t have to be here. It’s not you that’s getting on a plane to Mexico…. But still I’d like you here. Something inside me hopes you’ll come, even though I doubt you will. 

I think back to last night. We fought. I can’t remember what it was about. There were a lot of tears, and a lot of yelling. At some point you threw a pillow. It knocked me against the wall with the force you’d thrown it with. Then suddenly you were there, making sure I was okay as I crumpled to the floor in tears. I had to leave. Had to get out of there. So I told you I’d be here tomorrow… told you to come if you wanted to see me again. Told you that if you didn’t we’d be over. 

So what’s preventing you from coming? Perhaps you want it to be over. But I doubt it. You still nursed a scratch I’d gotten from a nail in the wall after I told you that. You still cared. Tried to make me feel better, tried to make me take it back. So soft, so gentle.

So I search for other reasons… what have I missed? The realization strikes like a blow to the face as I realize what I’ve done. You have the meeting today. The meeting with The CEO of some or other big-shot fishing company. The meeting that could change your life forever. Our lives forever. I’ve given you a choice between your future and ours…. 

And then I see you. You’ve chosen us, it seems. Because here you are….

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