She shivered as she followed him down the darkened path, shaded by the dense trees that hung over them, crowding them and eavesdropping on their frozen breath.
“Do you remember when we met?”
“I remember,” she paused, waiting for her next cue.
“You were so shy,” he said, his outline cast in the pale shimmer of moonlight. Shaking his head gently before letting out a little laugh, “I never met a girl like you before, never one who gave me so much trouble anyway. How long did it take me to convince you to go out with me?”
“A year.”
“Yeah, a whole year. But I’ve never met someone like you before.”
“Yeah, well maybe finally saying yes was the dumbest thing I ever did.” She lurched forward, struggling to keep up with his hurried pace.
“Probably, but I’ve always said you have bad taste.” She could hear his smile in the dark.
“Clearly.” She knew this conversation well; they’d had it a hundred times. He picked up the pace again, and she could feel her lungs burning in her chest as she struggled to keep up.
“How much longer ‘til we get there?”
“Not much further.” His words had a sharp edge to them, serrated to cut right through her. Never breaking his stride, he started again, “So, why did we ever break up anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you know,” he said, increasing the speed of his steps once again. She jerked forward, unable to keep up, and a nervous aching in her chest began to manifest, like a family of rats set up home in her ribcage, agitating and irritating her insides.
The dirty snow of the well-traveled path fell into the tops of her worn shoes and melted, soaking through her socks. “When did we break up? I—I don’t remember. It was so long ago now,” she feigned ignorance, but he didn’t answer, not right away. The melted snow turned her toes into little icicles, the kind that break off from dilapidated shed roofs and shatter onto the frozen ground below.
“Are you fucking with me now? Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“Maybe you broke up with me because I was too difficult, or maybe it was the distance.” She grasped at the loose ends of the conversation, trying desperately to tie them into a life preserver, anything to save her from the murky waters of conversation.
“No, that’s not what happened. You know and I want you to tell me.” She stumbled after him, falling onto her knees and into the snow. Her labored breath caught in her chest, and the burning feeling transformed into a fire so fierce, she prayed it would engulf her. “Get up,” all traces of affection had vanished from his voice. She tried to pull herself up to her feet but collapsed once more, “I said get up.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she said, finally able to lift her weight and stand steady before he dragged her forward into the darkness once again.
“Are you going to tell me the truth now?”
“I—I left you, I abandoned you. I—gave up on you.”
“You did,” he answered, leaving out what he had done, what he had said, and all the things he hadn’t. “What do you have to say for yourself now?” “I’m sorry.”
After a moment he said, “But you always come back to me. You can’t stay away.”
“I—I guess not. I think you may be my worst habit” she replied with a stutter, the uneasy words catching in her throat.
“Your worst habit is how annoying you can be,” he smiled.
“Yeah, well, you’ve always liked that about me,” she teased back, finding the safety within their established banter.
“You’re okay I guess.” She could hear his smile once again. The storm had receded, and she found herself safely nestled within its eye. The moon rose higher into the sky, letting more of its gentle glow filter through the ether. The moonlight reflected off the snow and onto the metal chain that tethered them together. Each link fixed itself to the next, trapping her, binding her to him.
“Do you remember when we met?” he asked, increasing his stride once again. She stumbled forward, praying the next time the chain pulled and became taut, it would break.