He was a shoulder to cry on. And nothing more.
When he had heard about her mental distress, he had dropped everything and ran over to her apartment. He had an extra key. So when he opened the door and saw her laying down on the plush white rug in the living room, all he could do was walk over to her and stand towering her, staring at her softly with his soft brown eyes. She felt the silhouette of his presence long before she could turn around to look at him.
“Don’t you have better things to do?” She asked him. Voice weary.
He kneeled down, closer to her. He could make the dried wet tears on her face but acted like he did not notice them and then he scooped her up into his arms. His hands covered the back of her head until she was able to lay her head gently on his chest. It was always this way with him. A quiet understanding that went beyond words. She admired this in him. After all, how beautiful a soul must be, to be able to still love someone in such a way, when he himself had been hurt. His vulnerability for her was on full display.
He cradled her in his arms until the crying began again and she held onto his shirt with such force that she was afraid that she might rip it. Her breath was heavy, aches protruded each time she would inhale to draw one. From the large window in front of them, cars drove by in the dark city night, their headlights beaming light into the apartment. She knew that he would be looking out onto them, lost in his own thoughts. She felt lucky to have such a man that loved her with such an intensity that he would hurt himself before he would ever dare to hurt her. She knew that he avoided such confrontations, but how quickly he had brushed it aside for her. Not another thought in mind.
And in his embrace, she evaporated. All her worries were gone. He was afterall, the kind of man who she didn’t have to explain her worries to because he already understood them. He understood all her feelings before she even had a moment’s time to explain them. Most people only display empathy for the sorrow things you tell them, and here, he knew even the pain of the gaps she did not discuss. He left room to understand even those things.
“You cannot be the only one understanding things,” he began. “What you need is someone who understands you too.”
When she heard him tell her this, she slowly got off his chest and looked him in the eyes.
“You carry just too much,” he said, brushing out her hair.
She laid back down again on his chest, feeling the kind of safety very few people are able to experience perhaps even in a lifetime.
“What you need is someone who knows everything you have gone through and makes your life easier and not more difficult,” he finally finished.
It was true, she had faced hardships and now she wanted ease. No more games. No more half truths. No more maybe or perhaps or meeting in the middle. What she wanted was something so simple, that it was almost an unquestionable want. What she truly wanted was someone who was clear about their feelings and told her even if it cost them getting hurt. Someone brave and someone who ultimately trusted her. She let go of him once more and started walking into the kitchen. She slowly adjusted the hem of her light pink pajama top. He stood up and watched her and she made herself to the kitchen and began to take milk out of the fridge.
“Don’t worry about making tea for me,” he told her. “I will just stay for a few more minutes and then leave,” he said.
“Do you want to leave?” She asked him.
“You know, I never want to leave,” he replied.
“Then stay,” she told him.
She looked at him again, holding the carton of milk in her hand. He shook his head no and smiled. She put it back in the fridge and walked over to sit on the couch. Her eyes narrowed down on her hands. He came and sat right in front of her.
“You know,” he began, “I know you.”
She smiled, “You do?” She asked.
“Then,” she took a breath, “What do you know about me?”
He took her hands into his hands and she caught her breath.
“I know that all you do, really do, is listen to other people’s problems,” he brushed his thumb in the inside of her palms, “but when it comes to you, no person truly understands.”
“And your wants and desires,” he begins again, “are so very small and they still don’t understand do they?”
She looked up at him and said, “Then where does one go?”
A moment of silence passed through them.
“That’s the problem,” he replies, “sometimes there is nowhere.”
“Stay with me tonight,” she urged him. “Stay with me, I have an extra room.”
She got up to point to the extra bedroom down the hallway and he sat her back down on the couch.
“It it brings you ease,” he told her, “I will stay.”
“And what about your work?” She asked him.
“I have extra clothes in my car,” he smiled, “don’t worry about it.”
And then something happened, her heart felt like someone had come and taken away all the pain. She felt like someone had taken something damaged and healed it with their very presence. Her words found a home. And her soul, understood.
It was something small, very small, but to her, it meant more than she even believed she deserved.
He was a shoulder to cry on. And he was everything.
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