ion -- A Short Story

This is a much shorter story than my last one, but it's the quickest one I've ever written (I started it this morning). Let me know what you think in the comments. Also, feel free to guess which song this is based on. I think it's pretty obvious, though.

The first glimmers of twilight filled the sky as he pulled into my driveway. As soon as he put the car in Park, he ran to the other side to open my door, offering me a hand as I stepped out. With a moment’s hesitation, I took it.

“Tonight was really fun,” he said, slowly caressing the back of my hand with his thumb.

“It was,” I added, a small smile plastered on my face. “I’m glad you liked the restaurant so much. Most people can’t handle the spiciness.”

He laughed. “Lucky I have a high tolerance for my tongue burning.” I let my teeth show just a little bit. “Do your parents still want to have dinner on Sunday?”

“Yes,” I nodded. I was sure they were just on the other side of the curtains masking the living room from ersby. “Dinner starts at six, as usual.”

“Can’t wait.” He paused for a moment, a look of pure bliss on his face. “I just can’t believe how lucky I am to be with you.” My eyes drifted down to my shoes, a silent breath escaping my lips. He sensed my discomfort. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” And it was. Everything was fine. And that was part of the problem. But he didn’t need to know that.

He pursed his lips together, nodding his head slowly. “I’ll see you on Sunday.” He pulled me in for a warm hug, let it linger, and then gently kissed my cheek. Intuitively, he must have known something wasn’t right; otherwise he would have gone for my lips, like most other nights. “Good night, Caroline.”

“Night, Danny.” I stood at my doorstep, watching him back out of the driveway, wondering what was wrong with me. I should be happy. This was everything I could possibly want in a boyfriend: kind, smart, amicable, funny, generous. As I turned the doorknob, I shook my head, ashamed of myself.

As I suspected, my mom and dad were waiting on the couch, two emptied coffee mugs on the oak table in front of them. “How was your date tonight, sweetie?”

“Fine.” I wriggled out of my coat, sleeves still slightly damp, and hung it on the coat rack. Mom sighed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “We had a nice time.”

“You can tell us about it, you know. We won’t judge you.” My dad gave her a quick glance, suggesting they didn’t share the same opinion on that.

I sighed, then used my de facto excuse. “Can we not talk about this tonight? I’m pretty tired.” My mom nodded vigorously, said her goodnights, and ran off to the bathroom. My dad smiled at me before picking up the massive book at his side. It was always either a novel about war or the newspaper with my dad.

I didn’t want to talk to my parents about Danny, because I didn’t think I could possibly put what I was feeling into words. I didn’t entirely understand it myself—how could I expect them to?

I shut the door behind me, praying that something would distract me. I opened up my Instagram feed, and his name echoed in my mind. I tried to stop myself, but I hit the search bar anyway. Typing his name was basically muscle memory at this point. I knew how unhealthy this was; everything ended six months ago. And yet, something inside me still made my heart palpitate when I saw his face. I couldn’t help my feelings, as there was no resolution. I was disgusted with myself, and I wanted to throw my phone at the wall.

I reminded myself of all the flaws in our relationship. I was never a priority in his life, and we constantly fought, sometimes over the stupidest things. I often found our dates ending with tears. Of course, he was not the only one to blame—I knew I had been too clingy. Looking at it now, I had been the archetype of a possessive girlfriend. Had it ended on a different note, I would probably be much happier now.

I felt tears begin to trickle down my cheeks, and I shut off my phone. Nothing good could come of this.

:hearts:

I lay atop my bed, lights out, eyes wide open. The digital clock glowed, 2:00 shining from across the room. My stupid, ridiculous feelings had been keeping me up for four hours. I cursed my mind, my emotions, but most of all, I cursed him.

I didn’t want to feel this way. I didn’t want to long for the screaming matches we’d have in his parked car. I didn’t want to long for the days he’d call me crazy and I’d call him reckless. I didn’t want to long for ionate kisses in the rain—actually, that one felt reasonable to long for. I wished desperately that I could stop craving the emotional turbulence that had been our relationship.

A rational part of me knew this wasn’t my fault. He chose to be reckless, and texting while driving is a dangerous decision. This was the part of me that also knew having a boyfriend die while you’re still dating is emotionally devastating. Somehow, I still found a way to blame myself. I knew it was my text that he’d been replying to as he drove on the highway. Had I not texted him, he might still be alive. Even as I found myself looking at old photos, I couldn’t bring myself to say his name. If I chose to swear off dating for a year or two, no one would blame me.

And then there was Danny. I met Danny three months after everything, and we started dating two months later. I wanted to love him. I wanted to feel butterflies as he told me I looked beautiful, even when I knew I looked like a mess. Danny made me feel comfortable, and he was such a great guy. But I felt nothing. Not happiness, not jealousy, not longing. Nothing. There was no ion in our relationship. And that’s what I missed.

Over the month we had been dating, I tried to find a way to rekindle the spark I knew was inside me. If I could stay in a relationship for months because I felt that spark, I could keep Danny for years. Over dinner dates, picnics, movies, and even a concert, he’d been as ideal a boyfriend as I could hope for. Yet nothing ignited that fire within. Tonight was the first time he seemed to question my smile, and I didn’t expect him to doubt it again.

The rational part within me knew that I felt emotionally numb because I wasn’t ready to be dating again, but I didn’t want to believe that. Danny was so wonderful, and I thought that trumped the tragedy I had been through. In fact, Danny didn’t even know I had been with him, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Everything about our relationship was fine. But fine wasn’t good enough anymore. I needed to feel something beyond merely fine.

:hearts:

I brushed out my curly ringlets, hoping to turn them into beachy waves. Of course, it became a frizzy mess. Exasperated, I set my hairbrush down, slipping into the teal dress I’d laid atop my bed. It was Sunday evening, and Danny was coming over. As I zipped up my dress, I ed the last time I wore this dress.

We zoomed into the restaurant parking lot, candles flickering through the window. This place was fancier than I’d come to expect. He wrapped his arm around me. “I thought we’d do something special tonight.”

I hopped out of the car, slammed the car door shut with a giggle, and let him take my arm. The hostess seated us at a table right by the window, the candle hardly competing with the sunset in the background. She distributed our menus and quietly scurried to another table.

The food was delightful, and we talked all throughout dinner. This was why I loved him: we could talk about anything under the sun, and we would never tire of each other. Sure, we’d fight sometimes, but I never doubted his love for me. It was incredible—having security in something that had always seemed fragile.

Though we were right next to a window the entire night, we didn’t notice the moment when the rain began to drizzle. By the time we walked outside, leaving the warm ambience behind, the drizzle had turned into a monsoon. Yet, we took our time, meandering through the parking lot, warmed by each other. Before we even reached the car, he stopped, and I paused, curious. He pulled me by the waist until we were inches apart, and his lips crashed into mine. We stood there in the pouring rain, and it was pure magic. My dress was soaked by the time I got in the car, but it felt like glitter was exploding inside of me, so I hardly cared about my clothes.

“Honey, Danny’s here!” My mom shouted from beneath me. I tried to shake the memory of that night from my mind. I was desperate to make this relationship work, and the first step had to be creating new memories instead of dwelling on the past.

I descended down the stairs, and Danny held a delighted smile on his face, along with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “You look beautiful.” I forced a smile, pretending it was a natural reaction. Based on the look he gave me, I knew he bought it. We walked to the dinner table, hand in hand, the delicious aroma of my mother’s cooking hitting our noses at the same time.

This was as picturesque a moment as any I could dream up. My parents loved Danny; they thought he was the sweetest, most respectful young man to ever set foot in our house. I didn’t disagree, but I still found myself without the warmth I craved. Yet Danny was so perfect, I couldn’t think of a truly valid reason to break up with him. Even if it was denial, even if it killed me, I would fight to make my relationship with Danny work.