Sounds of the Incomplete

Olive Juice

I was deathly afraid to tell her, but I wanted to in every which way. I wasn’t sure how she would take it, but there were moments when my emotions were overwhelmed by her, and I just had to say something.

She took me to see my favorite movie once, and no matter how many times I see it, I am like a giddy schoolgirl through it. I laugh, and speak dialogue along with the characters on the screen. Sitting there in that old theater, she heard every chuckle, burst of laughter, and she didn’t mind one bit.

When the hero gained the power to vanquish the villain, I turned to her. She looked at me, and I melted in her gaze. In that moment, I felt compelled to tell her what I felt for her, but I hesitated. I simply smiled, and swallowed the words back down from where they came.

Later, when we were lying next to one another, I knew she was sleeping by the frequency of her breaths did I tell her…

Well, sort of.

I first mouthed the words in the dark, but without breath behind them. It felt good to mouth them, and even though I knew she was sleeping, I still felt the pterodactyls in my stomach.

After what felt like an eternity of building up the courage did I say something to her as she lay next to me, and though it may not have came out right, had she heard me, I know she would get my meaning.

“Olive juice,” is what came out, and I held my breath as if I was waiting for a response, but of course none came. She was deep in sleep, and I silently laughed at myself. I felt a bit foolish, but I didn’t think it was a bad substitute for what I really meant to say.

Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to tell her, or should I say that maybe one day I’ll have the courage to hear her response? Yes, that’s it, and until I do, “olive juice” will have to do.

I hope you know that olive juice.