knock

 I’m standing on your doorstep, unsure what to do. Inside is a life I want to have, a love I want to share, and the one I want to see. All it would take is a knock, or a single push of the doorbell. You’ll answer with a smile and invite me in. We’ll laugh and joke and hug and talk of the time we’ve wasted and the fools we’ve been. We’ll embrace each other, holding on as we let go of the walls we’ve held up for so long. We will sit together, still holding, and that will be the start of a wonderful life. All I need to do is knock.

 And yet I can’t. That is all a fairytale, a fools dream, a beautiful story to ease a sad and heavy heart. I know it, even as my hand rises to the door to test that theory. What if this is the sad story, and what lies beyond this door is the reality I’ve been looking for? If not exactly as I’d hoped, maybe something close. A tentative touch, perhaps, some nervous laughs as we test our barriers. A silly question or a foolish comment before one of us breaks down and says what they’re really thinking. It’s possible, more possible than the other anyway.

 I steel myself and bring my hand forward, knocking lightly, hesitantly on the door. I wait, each second seeming an eternity. I start to entertain the idea that you’re not home. Maybe you’ve gone out and I’ll be spared the embarrassment one more day. Yes, you’re out, that must be it.

 As I turn to go, however, the door opens. I turn and smile the best smile I can. It falters, cracking like dropped porcelain. You’re not happy to see me. There is no smile waiting for me when I turn, only surprise and possibly annoyance. You look beautiful, and you are dressed to impress, but not for me. I hear him ask who it is; I see you look nervously at me for a moment. What do you say? What can you say that won’t cause a problem with him? I see those questions in your eyes as if you yelled them out loud.

 “Sorry, wrong house.” I turn and walk back to my car on the street, get in and drive away, as fast as the car and my pain will take me. I know by now you’ve closed the door and gone back to his side. You’re probably laughing about something, with your arms wrapped around each other. I can only hope it’s not me you’re laughing about, although I doubt you even gave me a second thought. At least I know you’ll have a wonderful life.