I met a guy, someone I couldn’t help developing feelings for. It was my former colleague and mentor, Ben Malone.
The issue was he was in a relationship when I met him. He still was. I knew he would never be available. I’d moved to Hawai’i to put distance between us because I hadn’t been able to deal with staying in Los Angeles and seeing him at work every day. I knew I had to get over him and move on with my life. For a while, I’d convinced myself I had done both. But, when we had done the case together in New Zealand, all the old feelings came flooding back. I still fancied the guy. I felt stuck and didn’t know how to move past it.
Lying there thinking of Malone, I felt a cry coming on. I tried to stuff it but started taking those short little breaths that always happen right before I start to cry. I gave up and let go. I cried hard for a while, my forearm resting over my eyes. I understood none of it. Why couldn’t I let go of a guy who would never be available and find someone else? I supposed a part of the reason I avoided getting into a relationship with someone else, was because I couldn’t stand the finality of it. If I committed to someone else, then I’d have to accept Malone was lost to me forever. It was the unyielding reality of it. That’s why I couldn’t commit to anyone, live with anyone, or fully share my life with anyone. I was still in love with Malone. I listened to the spasmodic quality of my own sobbing.
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