The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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The young man waits nervously constantly checking his phone and joking casually with his friends obviously distracted by something. The young man is quiet well dressed wearing a nice buttoned long-sleeve polo shirt that is dark navy blue with black dress pants. He is sweating and nervous wondering if perhaps his cologne will last through the night while sipping his third beer. That is when he sees her walk through the door with long dark hair and green eyes with a smile lighting her face. He steps forward to talk to her happy to see her when she glances at him and steps past him accepting an embrace from his best friend standing just inches to his left.

            Several emotions cross the young mans face as he pulls his composure together. He remembers what he thought were innocent questions from the girl about his friend thinking that she was just interested in his friend group. Them all hanging out the weekend before playing video games and drinking and the way she laughed when he made a joke. The gentle touches between them when walking past each other in the hallways. The way she had been glued to her phone when he had hung at with her the other day when he asked her if she was going to this party. It all clicked and hammered into his chest like a gunshot wound taking away the sweet feelings that were fluttering there a few moment before.

He talks to the happy couple for a few min before finding an excuse to grab his coat and step outside for a cigarette. A gentle rain has descended upon the quite suburban neighborhood that the party is taking place. He steps out into the rain letting the rain soak into his clothes and wash of his cologne cleansing himself of the effort he put in for her. He begins walking away from the party and out into the night. Under the lampposts that seem to stretch for miles in this small town.

             His phone starts to vibrate in his pants pockets, but he ignores it not wanting to face his concerned friends tonight. Not wanting to face anyone tonight the young man walks the four and a half miles home with only his thoughts and the gentle embrace of the night as a comfort. At some point the young man finds himself in front his home drenched in rain. He begins to sob as he rings the doorbell as his feelings begin to erupt out of him.

            His mother opens the door wondering who would be ringing their doorbell at 11:30 at night. Upon seeing his appearance and the tears running down his face she ushers the boy inside. Runs him a hot shower and gives him a change of clothes. No questions were asked about the cigarettes pack in his pocket or the smell of cheap beer on his clothes. Only a gentle tucking in and a good night.

            I interviewed my husband in our bedroom. I interviewed him about his first real heartache and he told me this story of him inviting his crush to his first big high school party. It mattered to him due to the gentle reception he received from his mother after the rough experience at the party.

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