You see, I've forgotten...

The sound of clicking glasses against plates at the little diner did nothing to distract him from his thoughts this cold December night. Head held up only by his one hand, he stirred his bland coffee with the other. His entire body seemed to emit an overbearing sense of melancholy that affected anyone who even had the nerve to walk past, but no one more than the best friend sitting across from him.

“It’s a tough decision.”

The man lifted his eyelids only to acknowledge that he even heard the voice of his friend. He knew that his friend was trying to be supportive, but he couldn’t help but feel a splash of resentment; the kind that you only feel when you know that the person is trying so hard to be helpful but it isn’t their fault that you are all alone.

“It’s not even really a decision.” The man hoisted his head up and curled both hands around the lukewarm cup. Lifting the mug to his lips, he didn’t even bother to grimace at the taste.

“Paul, listen.” The man raised his eyes to his friend’s. “I hear what you are saying. You and Angela have reached the point where something has to happen or it’s all going to fall apart, am I right?”

Paul nodded, bringing his cup back down to rest on the chipped table. “She’s waiting for me to make a promise. I don’t even think she cares what kind of promise, but she wants one. She keeps hinting…telling me how much she loves being around me, how she could stay with me forever…everything. I feel stuck and –“ He sucked in air sharply through his clenched teeth. “And I think if I really loved her I wouldn’t feel stuck.”

The friend was silent for a minute, looking down at his own coffee and nodding slowly. He wasn’t one to be giving advice on this situation…himself being a bachelor, and not exactly ‘fishing’ either. Finally, he gave his last point, hoping that it would be right.

“Go talk to her. See what you can find out. Maybe when you’re looking her right in the eyes you’ll see what you really feel inside.”

Paul nodded yet again, and flipped out a couple of ones and slipped them under his cup as he slid out of the booth. There was a poet in that friend of his. His friend gave him what could be called an encouraging look as Paul flipped up his collar to shield against the wind and faced the cold. He was going to figure this out, and he was going to do it tonight.

By the time that Paul was at Angela’s apartment, his nose was numb and he wondered in the back of his mind if people who chattered too much in their 20s were the ones who got dentures in their 60s. He rang her bell and, after announcing himself, she couldn’t hide her confusion in her voice as she buzzed the door open. He quickly scaled the steps and found her standing in her doorway in her flannel pajama pants and tank top. He normally would have smiled…she was such a party animal, ready for bed at 9 o’clock.

His obvious lack of an easy smile and unannounced appearance did little to set her at ease. She made way for him to come into the apartment and quickly shut the door. She wrapped her arms around herself; his coat seemed to radiate the cold from the outside and chilled her as he passed.

“Is…something wrong?” She asked softly when he did nothing to remove his coat and stayed standing in the entry way. Paul shook his head but didn’t say anything to explain why he had come either, which only made Angela more nervous. She shifted her weight.

“Do you want some coffee?”

Another shake of the head. “I just had some at the diner.” The two hesitated. Finally, Paul let out a long breath. “Angela, are we ok?”

Her whole body seemed to sway backwards just a touch, as if his words were a sudden gust of wind that she just wasn’t quite prepared for. “Sure!” She exclaimed, her eyes wide. “I mean… I thought we were…aren’t we?” She bit her lip. “Have I done something?”

No relief showed on Paul’s face. “No, no Angela you have been wonderful. I just…” He rubbed his chilled hands in front of him. “I just get the feeling that you want another level, that we need another level, and I’m just not sure what level that is and even if that level is right for us.”

Angela could feel the seriousness in his voice. She had been in other relationships that had been this far, some only to go farther and die viciously, or die right here and on much better terms. She stared at Paul’s feet, what would happen if they moved forward together? What would happen if they parted now?

Angela closed her eyes entirely and righted her head so that her chin was parallel to the ground. Eyes still closed, she took a sudden leap of faith that would make or break them in one word.

“What color are my eyes?”

She could almost feel Paul’s shock and sudden hysteria at the seemingly random question that backed him into the most formidable corner. He hadn’t been ready to answer trivia about her, he hadn’t been ready to save or crush their relationship with something as irrelevant as eyes and their color. He desperately fanned his mind, painting her image in his head…but what were they? Blue, green…brown? How in the world could he not remember? He had looked into her eyes a thousand times. With a growing pain in his stomach he came to realize that he had no idea what color her eyes were.

“I…don’t know.”

Angela nodded, already knowing from his hesitation. Her heart seemed to burst within her as another relationship failed and she felt the cold jacket brush her skin as Paul walked past. As the door closed behind him, she re-opened her eyes. She doubted that Paul would know their color even if he were looking now, what with all the tears blocking the way.

Paul trudged down what had become familiar steps, realizing that he would probably never walk on them again. It was all over, and it had ended with something that he had never known to end a relationship before – the lack of a word. Everything before him had ended with a debate, fight, or a good-bye. But never on the idea that the word wasn’t there…maybe that was why he felt so unresolved. Why he couldn’t believe that it had actually happened. It almost felt as if it hadn’t actually happened, but for Paul it was a good (bad?) thing that feelings didn’t rule his mind, otherwise he might just walk back up to Angela’s apartment and do it all again, not even realizing that it had already occurred. Dimly, he wondered if Angela felt the same way.

Why don’t I know her eye color? Paul wasn’t sure if he was kicking himself because of it, or taking it as an omen. But he just couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t know…it was trivial and yet still important. So how could he not have noticed?

Paul sat down on the last step, leaning his chin on his hand; and his elbow on his knee. It was like a word that’s always on the tip of the tongue, but impossible to remember. Paul usually prided himself in taking in details; he always noticed the texture of something before he noticed what it was...or at least he thought he did. Slowly, away from the pressure of time, he envisioned Angela’s face. First, her soft lips, then slightly imperfect nose, cute little ears that were still un-pierced…and then her eyes. They had eyelashes that didn’t need mascara, lids that he loved without the eye shadow, they were intelligent, twinkling, always hiding some sort of secret...and they were alive. God. He loved those eyes.

Paul suddenly stood up and bolted back up those stairs that he thought he would never see again. He stopped outside of her door, finding that he had lost his breath not from his sprint but from his realization. He meant to knock on the door, but instead pounded. A thousand emotions jumbled inside of him but for all that were there, one was missing – confusion.

Angela opened the door just enough to peek out and Paul turned away quickly; he didn’t want to see her eyes – not yet.

“Angela?” He asked to the wall.

“Yeah?” Her confused and clouded voice answered timidly behind him. That question was supposed to be the end. If he knew her eye color now, she would have to send him away. It was too late…the whole idea was that he would know right then and there. But she wasn’t sure that she could send him away.

But Paul understood this. “Angela, I still don’t know what color your eyes are.” He kept his eyes on the wall, as if it was really her. “But…” He took in a breath and said as defiantly as he could, “I don’t think that their color matters.”

Angela tried to keep the sound of her heart breaking out of her voice. “Paul –“

He did his best to interrupt her voice, her pain was distracting. “You see, the thing is Angela, when you asked me what color they were, it was because you thought that if I knew what color your eyes were that would mean that I knew you. Then you would know that I paid attention to you and understood you because I’ve taken the time and the love to know your eyes. Am I right?”

The voice behind him gave a shaky ‘yes’.

“But, you see, what I realized is that whenever I looked into your eyes, I saw everything besides their color, because their color was totally irrelevant. What really mattered was what they showed. When I look into your eyes Angela, I see beauty and intelligence and humor.” He sighed. “What I really mean is that those are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

The next thing he knew the voice was in front of him, and Paul found himself staring into those eyes that had ended everything, and then started it all over again. In them he saw all the things that he had described…and happiness. Angela threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

“That was all that I needed to know.”

Paul smiled and wrapped his arms around her as well. He thought about that glimpse he had gotten just before he hugged her. His grin widened as he buried his face in her hair.

Hazel.


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1-18-04

Inspired by “Your Song” by Elton John

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do. You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue. Anyway, the thing is; what I really mean…those are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.