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My First Thought Of You...

I find myself traipsing about in the museum of where we had our first date, only it wasn’t a date. It was more like an outing, and it was the very first time I set foot in a museum as an adult.

<i>“Do you know what the best things about museums are?” you asked me when we were on that sluggish trolley to our destination.
“No, I don’t,” I say sheepishly.
“They record time. They are a mirror to distant lands, ideas, and cultures that our modern society would deem insane,” you said, with eyes gleaming.
“Is that so? I had no idea,” I try to say sincerely, but it comes out flat.
I hoped you wouldn’t notice.</i>

This early memory resurfaces, thinking it was lost in the chain of memories that I linked about you. As I awake from that translucent memory and am grounded back in reality, I realize I’m in the lobby once more. Everything’s the same, from the massive two-story high columns that your eye constantly sees, to the information desk conspicuously placed in the dead center with its multi-lingual guides, and that spiraling staircase that once took us to the second floor frequently. Perhaps the only difference is the color of the room. It’s still white, but this time around, it’s warm and welcoming.
To the right of me, towards the stairs, I see a band of children, eager and excited to visit the museum. However, there are a few who scowl, perhaps reluctant to be part of the trip, yet prefer this to being in school doing class work.

<i>“What do you expect of the museum?” I am asked.
“I don’t know, really.”
“But you did visit one in your youth, no?”
“Well, yeah, but back then, I was younger. I went to museums because of field trips, family outings, and such. I hated going because I didn’t have any say in it. And in my youth I was too puerile, so I didn’t understand the meaning and importance of our museum trips. In honesty, I regret my behavior.” A moment of sadness is demonstrated on my face. It is silent for a moment.</i>

Still in the lobby, I see the thick glass walls and they, too, go to the second floor. Beyond the glass, the sky is morose, and I think the sky’s trying to sympathize with me, so I smile. At least I’m not alone, I say to myself. I go outside for fresh air and in the distance, by the trolley station, I see a couple that strangely resembles a younger us, and for a moment, I lose my composure. My breath and heart hasten, and I have trouble keeping my footing. I need some water, need to sit down, need to do <i>something</i>. When younger us arrives, I see that what I perceived was a mere figment of my mind, perhaps a need to see myself to be by your side. It’s so stupid of me to get worked up for something that I know will never happen again, but here I am, hoping against all odds. I must be insane to think like this. And what did happen between us that tore us? I try to remember…

…Nothing. Perhaps it’s because it’s too soon. Too soon to comprehend what actually happened, too soon to understand our actions, and too soon for us to start blaming each other. My dad once said, “Son, if your girl’s mad at you, it’s definitely your fault. Except when she’s on her rag, of course, but we never mess up around that time; it’s always the furthest from that special time of the month. God, I wish I could’ve messed up then. Perhaps the family wouldn’t be so broken.” I start to shiver, and I face the museum once more. I try to coax myself to go inside. Instead, I decide to leave. It’s for the best. There’s nothing here for me anymore.

<i>“Do you even love me anymore? Are even remotely attracted to me now?”
“Of course I do, and I still am, but—”
“But what?”
“These things take time.”
“Time? Seriously? That’s your argument, your reason? It’s more like a cheap excuse! We’ve been together for two years now! Two goddamn years! I can’t do this anymore! I can’t wait for you any longer. I need to know, right here, right now, that you love me, and that our relationship can be taken to the next level. Otherwise, this is a waste of time, for me and for you.”
“How could you call this, us, a waste of time? We’ve invested so much into each other. We’ve been through so much! This is another snag in the road, we’ll get through this, I promise.”
“No. This isn’t a snag: this is a pit, and it’ll take everything we have for us to climb out of it. Now stop deflecting and answer the question. Do you love me or not?”
“…I can’t say it, not now. If I do, my words will be insignificant and hollow. Our argument will be for nothing! Then everything, from our first little outing at the museum to now, will be based on a lie! Is this what you want?”
“It’s better than nothing. And if this is how it’s going to play out, then I’m leaving. It’s best that we take a break and cool our heads for now. I’ll return later for my stuff. Goodbye…for now.”</i>

I’ve tried to rub this out from my mind, but I haven’t been able to. This discussion we’ve had a while back should’ve been a caveat for me, for both of us. Back then, however, I was determined solely on proving my love to you, and that what we had was worth it.