You Don't Know Me Anymore

They sat across from each other. She looked at the ceiling. He looked at the floor.

It was winter outside. They were both cold, but she was the only one to show it. Her arms wrapped around herself, hands clinging to elbows, fingers digging into sleeves.

He leaned forward, elbows on bended knees. A dark spot on the rug is what held his gaze.

A water spot on the ceiling is what held hers.

Neither of them knew why she was there. Him most of all. She probably knew why. Somewhere. Probably.

They didn't talk for a very long time.

They had been out in the snow. The flakes were enormous. They looked like cotton balls, that's how big they were. They looked like cotton balls floating quiety to the ground. A street lamp across the way showcased a swirling bubble of cotton balls, and if the two had looked around they would have seen it and they could have appreciated it. But he was busy looking at her and she was busy wishing he wouldn't.

She finally asked him to stop. That's when he decided to not speak. To not speak unless spoken to.

Why was she here?

They went inside slowly. It was colder inside than it was in the snow.

He didn't ask her if she wanted something to drink. He wasn't talking, remember? And he didn't care to be polite. She wasn't thirsty anyways. They went downstairs, because that's where they always went. He sat on the floor, 'cause that's where he always sat.

She sat in the big green chair. She used to sit on the floor, too. But this time she sat in the big green chair.

"It's cold," she said.

"Yeah," he said.

They were quiet again, but not for as long.

"Why am I here?" she asked herself outloud.

He looked up at her. She didn't look back, but she could feel him. She could feel his eyes on her. She wanted to yell at him, but she didn't know why.

"I don't know," he said.

She glanced at him for a second then looked away. "It's so fucking cold. Can I turn on the fire?"

"It's broken."

It wasn't.

"Can you hand me that blanket then?" she asked.

He tossed it at her.

She wrapped it around herself tight.

Two winters ago they had sat outside until they were so numb. They had been under the same blanket. They even held hands.

The winter after that, the winter just before this one, they never saw each other even once.

She breathed in through her teeth quickly, sucking in words she decided not to say at the very last second.

He stared at her harder. She wanted him to stop, but she was the one who had come here, remember? She had come here without any warning. Not even a phone call. She had just showed up, and he had been home, home all by himself, and she drove slowly into the driveway and stood outside until he saw her and his heart seized and he put on his boots and he went outside to meet her and she had said Hello and he had said Hello back and he had looked at her and she had asked him to stop. She was the mystery. He was just looking for clues.

"I'm sorry," she said, squeezing the blanket.

"For what?" he asked.

"I don't know why I'm here."

He looked at the dark spot again. "I still love you," he said.

"No you don't."

Silence.

"Why not?" he whispered.

"You don't even know me anymore."

"You don't know me either."

"You're right."

"I still love you."

"Then make it stop."

"How do I do that?"

Silence.

"I don't... I don't know."

"How did you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Loving me."

"It just..." She was picking at her nail polish. Specks of dark red fell all over the blanket. "It just went away."

He shook his head.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I don't fucking know." She left her nails alone and glared at him. "I have no fucking idea."

"Then leave, please."

"I don't know where to go."

He shook his head harder.

Outside, the snow stopped.

Slowly and quiety she lowered herself off the big green chair and onto the floor in front of him. "I'm going to kiss you, but you can't kiss me back."

"That's not fair."

"Those are the rules."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. He didn't kiss her back. She pulled back and looked at him. He leaned forward. She didn't move. He looked at her in the eyes for a very long time.

Her heart seized.

"I want you to leave me alone," he said.

She stood up and left and he stayed on the floor.

She walked outside. It was dark. The street lamp had gone out. She walked to her car and almost slipped. She opened the door and got inside and started the engine and drove away. She rolled down her windows and turned the radio off and when she got home she went to bed but didn't fall asleep until the sun was coming in through her windows.

The next winter, the winter after this one, they didn't see each other even once.