tonight, the snow is not white. it’s murky and brown, and it’s glowing under the street lamp at the corner. the pavement is glazed over with gray slush and tires are screeching on side streets. i tell myself i won’t drive in this weather.

“happy new year.”
three words i’d hear a lot tonight.
“i love you.”
three words i’d hear and ignore.

directing insensitive derision at him and disregarding friendlier options, i laugh and kick my feet onto the coffee table like the inimical bitch that i am. his hand is warmer than usual.
lacking in decorum, i take his sweaty palm from my shoulder and remove it; not wasting time to speculate how it feels to have your hand tossed aside.
i sigh in an acrid fashion.
his lips were diffident.
he did not say anything.

(i’m sorry i wasn’t kinder.)

i’m impervious when it comes to love. every clichéd way that he would say he loved me would roll off of my surface and leave him wordless. all of my come-backs were strictly improvisations, and all of them lacked in romantic sentiment.

december 31st, 11:59pm, is an interminable time. when 12:00am strikes, all the bodies in times square holding noise makers will be singing, streamers will be falling from the sky and blanketing the winter concrete, lovers will be embracing in champagne-tasting kisses, and he and i will be side-by-side without a title.
“happy new year. i love you.” he’ll say.

(i’m sorry i didn’t say “i love you, too.”)

01/10/2005

Author's Note: i actually wrote this in may of 2004, but i found it and decided to post it.

Posted on 01/10/2005
Copyright © 2024 Emily Davidson