The rain looked different in the city tonight and yet the only thing which had changed was us.
The last time we visited we drank our happiness by the bottle and embraced the dizziness which came with too much Merlot. Now we just sipped at water like reserved teenagers at their first school dance.
“Can we start again?” you whispered, eyes focused on the spilt grains of salt you played with on the table top.
“I think it’s too late for that.”
“That’s your answer for everything. We could try though?”
“I was trying. I never stopped trying.”
“I mean, I could try,” his eyes locked onto mine and demanded that he got his own way.
I wanted to throw my water at his face, let the ice cubes sting at his skin like miniature jellyfish, watch as the rest of the people in the restaurant pointed and chuckled behind their napkins. I wanted to scream until the glasses we drank out of cracked and smashed, shout until I had nothing left to say, and then move on from whatever we had become.
“I never stopped loving you, y’know?” he tried to reach for my hand but it was too far away.
“I never stopped loving you either,” he smiled at me. “But it didn’t make me go and fuck someone else.”
“There’s nothing I can do to fix this, is there?”
“No. There’s not.”
He thought – we both thought – that a weekend back here would resolve things. It would be an escape, a fresh start, a time to wipe the slate clean. All it did was make me hate him even more.
I didn’t stop him when he walked outside and into the rain.