[ WP ] You 're furious that she said `` I love you '' back .


 *I thought it was just me. * 
 
 
 It's 3 a.m and I ca n't sleep. I tried with the tv on, I tried with earplugs on, I tried in silence broken by the neighbor's restless dog and the trains passing my house. I tried taking sleeping pills. When an hour later I was still awake I drank a pot of coffee. I ca n't sleep but I'm not awake either. Not really. 
 
 And now I lay on my couch. The wine glass she used two weeks ago still sits on the kitchen counter. That's the sort or person I am. It did n't fit in the dishwasher, so I left it. Forgot about it. Never got around to it. It still sits there with peachy lipstick marks around its brim. Just sits there, like the vacuum cleaner I got out before her visit. Just like the piles of unopened mail, just like the laundry drying for the fourth consecutive day. 
 
 But now I ca n't touch the wine glass. I can still see Sue sitting there, sipping the wine, laughing, breathing. She took so many photos that day. She promised to send them to me, but she never got around to it. She did n't exactly procrastinate like I do. There just was always some new hobby. New instrument. New pet, new friend, new city. 
 
 I feel bad I spent the whole drive to the airport thinking how to greet her. Wondering if we were still so close a hug would be appropriate. I had n't seen Sue in such a long time. I stressed about it the previous night, but the moment I saw her I just stretched out my arms and caught her. It was the most natural thing to do, and nothing ever felt so good as holding her. She was real. Not just a random message at night, a drunken phone call, irregular emails. She was real and she was here. 
 
 We visited all the spots we had when she first came to see me those many years ago. We stood in line for thirty minutes to get into that shoddy pizza place. The next night I cooked for her. All the things I had said I wanted her to try. I got around to it. It was a perfect evening. I think I laughed more that night than the past year. 
 
 Then she left. Christmas came. I feel bad I spent a whole night worrying if I could write `` I love you'' on the Christmas card. In the end I did. I told her everything. That it was the best weekend I had all year. That I was sorry about everything, about keeping my phone off, about disappearing. That I loved her. That I wished the next year would be better for the both of us. 
 
 She was happy when she got it. She sounded like chirpy, busy self. I was busy with my family. I assumed she was busy with hers. 
 
 She sent me a picture from a stormy beach a couple days later. 
 
 And that was the last I ever heard of her. 
 
 And then the call came. 
 
 I thought it was a joke. I recognized her friend's voice. They had prank called me one night a couple years back when Sue was in the habit of calling me drunk. 
 
 I still wish it was some cruel prank. 
 
 Sue was gone. But the painful parts came after the shock. The friend told me Sue was a pendulum swinging wildly. The high she was on when she came here to see me was followed by the low. The low took her life this time. There had been other times I never knew of. I knew about the accident she had been in. I never knew she crashed on purpose. 
 
 The worst part was the note. 
 
 She loved me back. 
 
 She had told her friends to take care of me. To take the trips me and Sue had planned. Experience the adventures we never got around to. The friend told me all the things Sue had told her about me. All things she never said to me. All the beautiful things that tied my stomach into a million knots. 
 
 I hate that she did n't say any of them to me. 
 
 It's 4 a.m and I ca n't sleep. Sue is still here; I do n't need to close my eyes to see her. There she sits, smirking and taking pictures like always. Her words play in my head. How happy she was to see I still had the stupid mug she brought me when she first came here. How she admired my books. 
 
 Everywhere I look is full of Sue, and so void of her. 
 
 I ca n't touch the wine glass. 
 
 *I thought it was just me. * I thought it was just me with my silly thoughts. I thought I was wrong to think like that. She was a friend after all. Before anything and last of all, she was my friend. 
 
 And now I hate her for saying it back and going away. I hate her for coming back here, giving me a perfect, wonderful memory and tainting it with death. I hate all the could-have-beens my head is filled with. 
 
 I hate her with my aching heart to survive the loss of her.
