Back to December

This is a short (very short) story I came up with while driving to work. Lately I've been inspired by songs, as is the case with this piece of fiction. I'm not sure it's very good as my writing is rather rusty. But in any case if you decide to read it I hope you enjoy, or at least get a good laugh!

I had just started working here when I met you. We had often passed each other and I finally had a reason to talk to you. You answered my questions and then offered your email--just in case I had something more to ask. I could tell by your grin you weren't used to this sort of thing. It was kind of flattering actually.

We got to know each other over email and quick exchanges at your desk. I finally asked you to grab a cup of coffee. I picked you up at your apartment and as you got into the car I could tell you were excited. I began to wonder if you might be too young, too naive. There were almost ten years between us. But you were already in the car, and I figured any student would appreciate a free cup of coffee. You seemed surprised when I paid for it. (In hind-sight that probably was a good indication it was a date, even though I was unsure of what we were doing.) As we sat and talked, I revised my earlier judgment. You were young, but you were mature for your age. When I dropped you off, we sat in the car and talked some more. I asked if you had deleted our emails. You seemed confused. I explained that it was probably a bad idea for us to hang out since I was an administrator and you were a student. You didn't think there were any rules against it; besides, you were over eighteen. I explained that I was on probation and that I didn't need any reason to be fired, but you still seemed unsure. We said goodbye with a hug. I still wonder what you thought as you walked away from the car.

I fully intended to leave it at that. I was on probation and you were rather young. Yet there was something about you that intrigued me. And I admit, there may have been some ego involved. We began talking over the phone. I came by your apartment again. When you came down with your purse I explained that I just wanted to talk in the car. We chatted about anything and everything. As usual I ended our conversation with a warning about keeping this between the two of us. I asked if you had told anyone we were hanging out. You said no, but I knew you were lying. I also know you were hurt, but quite frankly my reputation meant more to me than your feelings. There was always the risk you wouldn't say yes the next time I asked to hang out. But the next time I pulled up to your apartment you came down and we sat in the car for over an hour. Hook, line, and sinker.

Eventually you tried to fight back. You constantly explained that there was no rule between staff-student relationships. I wouldn't relent. You were graduating soon. That didn't matter to me. Finally I switched tactics and told you that you were too good for me; that I was a bad guy. You protested and said you weren't that good. I laughed. Perhaps if you had seen my thoughts you would have believed me. I had no intention of starting a relationship. I wouldn't even give you so much as a proper date. Yet you kept coming when I beckoned. I was new in town with limited friends, and your attention was addicting. I was convinced that you weren't the drug; it was my control over you I craved.

You began trying to create "accidental" run-ins while I was at work. You would enter my building while I was outside the door on my cell phone. You found reasons to need my professional assistance. You think I didn't see you look up at my window when you passed outside; I did. I watched you watch me. I was so busy watching you I wasn't watching me. When I was asked to take photos at a graduation celebration, I didn't realize how many were of you until I sent them to you. Even then I didn't pay attention to the signs.

That summer was rather boring. We rarely emailed or talked on the phone. I missed seeing your face around the building. I was surprised at how nice it was to see you when the semester started. Though I was intent on staying away from you, we quickly fell into old habits. Your new argument was that now you were in graduate school I had no reason to fear hanging out together. You simply didn't understand my motivations. The only difference now was that our run-ins were fewer and shorter. Our conversations were primarily over email and telephone.

It was a stormy December night when I got a phone call from you. You wanted to come over to my place and talk. You had been by a few times before, so I allowed it. When I met you in the parking lot you seemed determined. I had no idea what this could possibly be about. Another attempt at arguing a relationship between the two of us? When we finally sat on the couch in my apartment you refused a glass of water. Your words still ring clear in my head.

I know that you know I like you. And I don't know what you're thinking or feeling. And I have no idea how I'm supposed to act around you.

I paused in genuine surprise. I had never heard you be so blunt. I realized it must have taken all your courage to say that to me. I knew what you were really saying though: where is this going? I knew then the charade had gone on long enough. You were no longer following the rules and I was backed into a corner. I told you I did not like you in that way. You nodded, smiled, and left. Not a single tear was shed.

There comes a time when a man is burned by his own game. I had dangled you on a thread for the sake of my own ego, or so I thought. The truth was that I had kept you at arm's length because I was afraid. I was afraid of the repercussions of dating you, professionally and personally. You were too good for me, and I knew if I let you in you would see that. Not only that, but I would see it. When I said I was bad, I didn't mean it to convey a "bad boy" image. I meant that I was not good enough for you. You had the purest of hearts; I was selfish.

It turns out letting you go was the best thing I could have done for you. I was genuinely happy when a year later you came running into my office to show me your diamond ring. I didn't know who the guy was and I didn't ask. He was obviously worthier than I. I was never invited to the wedding, and I'm not sure I would have gone if I was. You left town soon after, and we haven't spoken since. I'm not even sure you think of me.

I do, think of you that is. I think back to the grief I caused you for far too long. I underestimated the power of a young woman's infatuation. I never meant to cause you the pain that I did. At the time I couldn't see beyond myself. My last gift to you was my most generous. If I had know what it would do to me, I might have done it differently. I didn't know that when I let you go, I would lose a piece of myself. On that December night, I broke my own heart so that you could be free.

So, there's that little Swift-inspired beauty. I'm actually quite fond of it, even if it is a little too short to even be called a short story. Still, it's better than being lost in limbo like most of my inspirations. Well, that's my opinion anyway!