Begin

“You invented me.”
The frozen dirt crunched beneath our feet and I studied the path, seeking out the best way forward.
“What do you mean?”
“Do we really have to go over this again?” She stopped and turned to face me. The brisk air stung my nose. “You don’t live in the real world, Eric.  You don’t face problems, and every time I turn around I’m hearing you tell me something new about myself.”
“Like what?”
“Like... well I don’t know.”  She turned to continue down the trail.
We kept on in the relative silence of the mountain path for a while before she said, “I don’t like tomatoes.”
“What? Yes you do.”
I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.
“See?” She laughed bitterly. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. I’m so sick of those sandwiches you make me try every day and all their tomatoe. It’s so squishy and acidic. I’ve told you four times that I don’t like them but you’re always off in another world. You don’t see me and you don’t care.”
“Jovi, that’s hardly fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I love you, Jovi.”
“You’re doing it again!”
“What?”
“Avoiding. Avoiding your problems, avoiding this conversation, avoiding real life!”
Our pace had quickened and we barely noticed. I shoved my hands in my pockets to try to warm my fingers. They were so cold they felt wooden.
“I’m not avoiding, I just-”
“Call her then,” she interrupted.
It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about, and when I did, my stomach dropped.
“Call who?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”
“Babe,” I said quietly, the frustration gone from my voice.  “That’s different.”
“No it isn’t.”
She stepped over a log and continued on at our brisk pace.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
My left foot made it over the log, but the tip of my right boot (a size too large for me) hooked under the log and down I fell. My hands were in my pockets, so I turned a shoulder to the ground in the half second of realization I had before I landed with a sickening crack.
For half a second I thought it was a branch breaking, but then lightning shot up my leg and I stifled a moan.
Jovi walked on, still talking, while I laid there for seconds unmoving, trying to figure out what to do.

Hook

I love you is how we sign off with the people we love. It’s the last thing we say at night to our spouses or children, it’s how we end phone calls.  I love you is how we say goodbye.

So I suppose it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.