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Unspoken Love, By: Andrew Cyr

November 7, 2024 by Andrew Cyr

Unspoken Love

Ethan had his heart set
on spilling his thirst for Natalia,
no matter the cost.

The two are forty-four
but they had been friends
since middle school,
but she thought of them
as platonic—nothing more.

Ethan tried to convince himself
that he only saw her as a friend,
but deep down, his heart pulled
him into unexplored territory,
where unexpected kisses awaited.

Natalia helped Ethan pass
a tenth-grade biology class.
But she’d fall asleep on the navy couch,
snuggled in his arms.
Ethan’s mother raised an eyebrow
but he assured her of his intention
to pass a class.

He learned more about biology
by studying Natalia than he ever
did in class.
Ethan buttoned a plaid Polo shirt
and rolled the sleeves to his elbows,
showcasing the subtle hint of a wristwatch.
He wore slim jeans and slipped his feet
into brown loafers.

He buckled a brown belt
around his waist.
Ethan flipped on the light
as he entered the bathroom.

He looked into the streakless mirror.
He opened the cabinet for an electric razer,
pushed a lever and it buzzed
as he lined up his thin beard.

Ethan returned the razer
to the cabinet.
He reached for a bottle,
pressed a button,
and aftershave filled his hand.
He lathered the thick,
translucent substance
and massaged it into his beard.

Ethan’s thoughts drifted
to a high school summer day.
Natalia asked him to rub lotion
on Natalia’s fair skin on a hot
summer day at Wilson Creek.

But he was the one burning up.
He turned off the bathroom light
and moved through the beige living room
with framed pictures on the walls.
He had dark leather sofas spaced
around the spacious living room.

Ethan looked out the sliding glass door.
A river moved to a serene flow
through the foliage and dense rocks.

Ethan wanted to hold Natalia here
in the mornings over coffee
and mindfulness—maybe even
a prayer to the Big Guy above.

The large TV above the fireplace played
the news, but he muted the anchors.
Mariah Carey played on the stereo,
pushing beats through the speakers.
The coffeemaker percolated.

He entered the kitchen
and poured coffee
into a thermos—steam lifted
as he closed the lid.
He reached for the television,
pressed a button,
and the screen went black.

Ethan lifted a device
from the glass coffee table,
pointed it at the stereo,
pressed a button,
and the music died.
Ethan moved to the dining table
to grab the roses in a white vase.

Stepping out of his cozy home,
he went to his sturdy Jeep.
With a twist of the key,
the powerful engine roared to life,
filling the air with a sense of adventure.

As he settled into the driver’s seat,
he conscientiously fastened his seatbelt,
fully aware that the exhilarating journey
ahead had the potential to test his
confidence to its limits.

His tires crunched over gravel
and crisp red and gold leaves.
He turned onto Main Street
and followed the flow of traffic.
People patron expresso shops
and diners for morning caffeine.
Ethan’s mind lost its brakes,
and his thoughts led him
to believe that she might
actually want him.

Ethan parked, got out, hit a button,
and the horn honked.
As he strolled to the entrance,
a light breeze softened his doubts.
Ethan had to the words only flowers
could say.
Unresolved distrust in men
kept Natalia from accepting
the love Ethan had to give
with romance attached.
But Natalia said no one
would offer a gal something
without expecting something
in return—no sane man, anyway.

Ethan thought they swept that thought
under a carpet of rug burns.
Ethan paused at her office.
A soft smile played on his lips
as he let out a quiet sigh.
Natalia sat in her office, eyes trained
on her monitor, and her fingers
pecked at a keyboard.

Ethan lifted his fist to rap
on the door.
Natalia shivered in sudden startle,
covered her chest and swiveled
in her dark chair.
She removed her glasses,
and her gaze softened.
“What are you doing here?” Natalia said, her voice tinged with suspicion.
Ethan smelled the roses. “You like roses, right?”
“Um…” Natalia moved her head either way. “Not really.”
“I’m stupid,” Ethan said.
“I love them,” she said. “I don’t like roses; I love them.”
Ethan released the tension in his chest, and his cheeks cooled. “Well,” he set them on her desk, “it gives the place life.” Ethan said, looking around.
Natalia laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“I haven’t had a life in forever,” Natalia said, as though she searched for the last time she could articulate her happiness.
“I’m nothing special—”
“—but we’ve always—”
“—been good friends—”
“—in love.”

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