Resisting Her Ex's Touch

One Saturday she didn’t show up at the coffee shop, like she normally did. Even though they didn’t have formal plans to meet, Matt came to her apartment early that afternoon to check on her and see why she had been absent from the routine they had perfected over months. She hadn’t expected that. If she had she wouldn’t have answered the door. Instead she answered the door in jogging pants and an oversized sweater, her face red and swollen from hours of crying. He didn’t let her turn him away and on the eighth anniversary of her mother’s death Kate allowed her emotions to show and cried in front of someone else for the first time since her mother had died.

She couldn’t have asked for more in Matt’s response. He held her until her tears subsided and then listened as she talked about her parents and what she had lost. For the first time her feelings didn’t make her feel weak and helpless. Matt made her feel he understood in his responses and desire to listen. They talked for hours and he discussed his own father’s death, which helped her feel normal and less like the poor orphan she had perceived herself to be. When she was finally spent of emotions and words, she fell asleep on her couch, Matt still sitting at the end. She could remember the strength of his arms around her as he picked her up and carried her to her bed, the tenderness and caring as he laid her down and covered her, and the weight of his lips against her forehead as he kissed her good-night. And her last thought as she drifted to sleep was that she was in love with her best friend.

Kate woke to the darkness of the living room lit only by the soft glow of the end table lamp. She struggled to adjust her eyes to the lighting and the reality of her surroundings. She wasn’t in her old college apartment and the dreams she’d had of her past had been just that, dreams, followed by a harsh reality. She glanced over at the clock on the microwave—four o’clock in the morning. No hope of getting back to sleep, she thought.

She stretched; her neck had a kink in it from falling asleep on the arm of the couch and her legs ached from pushing too hard on her run, but she was also acutely aware of the deep ache and warmth in her pelvis. She could still feel the memory of Matt’s lips against her forehead, his body pressed against hers, and the feel of him wanting her, both past and present. It made no sense. She cringed, thinking about the last time she had felt that need from him and the disaster and complete and utter devastation she had felt afterwards.

Anger overtook her as her feet hit the cold wooden floor and she walked towards her bedroom. She didn’t want to remember every detail of their relationship and that night. She didn’t want to still feel what it was like to be touched by him. She didn’t want to still feel the pain of rejection and betrayal. She didn’t want to feel anything for Matt McKayne.

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