At first I wasn't sure. I thought I hated her and that is why she would sometimes glance at you out of the corner of her eye and see something else instead, dropping whatever fragile dish was in her hand. That is why she would get cold sweats on the nights you made her sleep alone.
But it wasn't true. It was not her fault. She did not speak to God before she was born and ask to be beautiful and carefree and agreeable. She had little choice in her natural near-perfection.
I realized and accepted this the morning she cried in the shower. You weren't there to see it and probably would not have been able to differentiate between the salt and the soft water that wouldn't wash her soap away.
I HATE YOU.
Because it's your fault. Because you had a choice and chose the path containing the least amount of me.
That is why she felt better when you bought the new house two states away. She slept and didn't cry and wasn't afraid.
But you were afraid. You are still afraid. You get chills in the middle of summer when the AC isn't even on. You hear voices when you are alone in your perfect new house. Even after the secret visits from the psychics and the ministers, you find yourself waking from fitful slumbers with my name on your lips.
Since I can't rest, I won't let you rest. No matter how far away you move, or try to bury the truth, or shut up the actuality of our past and the potential it once held for our future, I will be there to make sure that you never forget. You can't hide from what you've done to me and there's no point in trying to run away like I tried to run away with my headlights off, foot on the pedal like a dead weight, no wish-wash wish-wash of the windshield wipers. Just salt and rain. And darkness.
As you slip into the closet and pull out that slip of newspaper (there's my name! and the address of the place you didn't go) wondering if I'm really breathing against your neck, whispering in your ear like I used to do...I am sure.
I can't rest and neither will you until you utter my name. Until you apologize for not loving me.
