168 days.
4,032 hours.
241,920 minutes.
14,515,200 seconds.
14,515,200 seconds since you rolled into town, in your suave black sedan and your tinted shades, and I laughed myself silly at your oh-so-fine moves — a black-haired man in a suit, distinguishly pressed, chasing around your escaped cat in the yard. I helped.
13,305,600 seconds since I told you I could always tell when you were back around, even before that flag went up on your rooftop, even before your car headlights flashed and you handed me a perfectly steaming hot cup of caffeine before school. you laughed and said you hoped not, because you had just too many secrets.
11,491,200 seconds since your sister called and told me of your near-demise — and I had felt it, felt it, felt it. 11,493,800 seconds since no one had informed me you were in the hospital because my name hadn’t graced the “emergency contacts” list (as if bureaucracy had anything to do with love.)
11,489,100 seconds since they told me I couldn’t see you, even with my heart stopping, stomach-clenching, hair-pulling despair. your sister said they were probably right. I asked her if she intended to invite me to your funeral.
10,627,200 seconds since a stranger taped my shoulder, and told me I must’ve dropped this — this, a heart locket with your name written all over it (metaphorically, of course) with a note inside that read, “I know why the caged bird can’t sing.” I told the stranger thank you; I loved the person who had given it to me very much.
10,220,100 seconds since I had to inform the world I had a boyfriend — not because I liked him, but because, in my overwhelming depression over your disappearance, he had told me it was all okay, and my miserable heart didn’t have the energy to know what to do.
9,830,500 seconds since I became petrified that every shop window, every car windshield, held your watchful gaze in your horribly entrancing dark eyes, for the first time seeing his hand in mine and freaking out because of heart-broken-promises and the reminder that I was, after all, only sixteen. If you were even still alive, I thought.
7,600,000 seconds since I told him I didn’t love him. 7,599,999 seconds since he professed his undying love for another girl. I laughed, because I missed you.
7,500,400 seconds since I spent every spare second reading the news, wondering if it was because of you, if you were there, if you were okay; sometimes I called your sister and asked her why the caged bird can’t sing. she never had an answer, but she had nice tea.
6,566,400 seconds since I stood at the baggage carousal, watching uniform suitcases spin around and around, and wondered about how many baggage carousals you had stood at, or if you were a carry-on luggage type of guy.
6,566,100 seconds since I saw your face at the airport, and sprinted, with complete abandon to the people around, towards you and your arms; and you spun me around, and around, and around, till I could almost believe you were home.
6,566,000 seconds since you disappeared, leaving my tear-streaked face empty of expression in a crowded terminal.
6,400,800 seconds since he asked me why I was always sighing; and I thought it was ridiculous he hadn’t noticed the crying, but good lord — not sighing! He said men knew how to play with your mind. 6,400,700 seconds since I didn’t tell him the truth, for the very first time.
6,400,500 seconds since I realized I loved you.
6,048,000 seconds since your housekeeper told me you didn’t have a cat that I helped you rescue, all those seconds ago.
5,654,000 seconds since a book showed up with my name on the box, even though I had never ordered it.
4,320,000 seconds since you kissed my cheek, and handed me a note that read, “10,195,200 seconds of the knowledge of your existence was worth all the seconds of separation.”
3,456,000 seconds since I asked you why the caged bird can’t sing. you thought for a while, and said you didn’t particularly like this house, or cats, or coffee, but you found yourself calling it home anyways. Because home meant coming home to me. I said I planned to move homes a lot, and my future plans wouldn’t be impeded by you. You said you were okay with that, if you were allowed to come along for the ride. I said I’d think about it.
3,400,100 seconds since you flipped out because you wondered if you were playing with me, destroying my life and my existence. I watched you pace around in your living room, consumed with your inner turmoil. I casually turned the pages of my magazine, waiting for you to calm down. I told you childhood was something that was invented in the 1950s by American corporations, and if twelve year olds could work in coal mines and carry guns, I was fairly certain you were being a self-centered idiot about it.
3,390,000 seconds since I made you lie down on the couch with a cup of tea, and covered you with a blanket and said if you didn’t get some rest I would personally get you fired from your job. You said you hated the U.S. government. You said, when my blue eyes stared at you, you felt as if they were searing through every facet of your being, and I could see everything about you just with the intensity of my gaze. You asked if I thought you were a good man. I said I didn’t put much stock in good men because, at the end of the day, all good men ever had done was be was a good person.
2,730,600 seconds since you said you’d beg me to marry you, if only I could wait 50,198,400 more seconds. I told you you’d have an awful lot of waiting, because I didn’t believe in marriage. You said you guessed the seconds would worth it.
604,800 seconds since you left, once more. But this time you promised you were coming home, to me.
14,515,200 seconds of loving you.
14,515,200 seconds of missing you.
14,515,200 seconds of wondering.
14,515,200 seconds of worrying.
14,515,200 seconds of waiting.
14,515,200 seconds
241,920 minutes
4,032 hours
168 days
in a suspension of disbelief.
(every second was worth it.)