This was written for a challenge set at Elijahfanforums.com, the task set being to write a short story based on the following lyrics quoted from a Barenaked Ladies song.

I Never Told You

No one´s speaking.

No one is speaking. Why is no one speaking?

There´s a cough, and a figure rises from their seat. Her.

She moves to the front, all ethereal and beautiful, even in black. Delicate feet strapped into suede, toes painted a demure pearl, not the lurid shade of red she usually prefers.

I always hated that color on her. Made her look like a tramp. But she liked it, so I never told her.

Legs… god, she has beautiful legs. Like Aphrodite, just up and up and up into the folds of her skirt, promising so much more. I feel honored to have seen what lies beneath, as though I´ve been allowed a precious glimpse into a temple at which I´m barely worthy.

I never told you that. How worthy you made me feel. I stroked your skin and you giggled, and I told you how lovely you were. But I never told you how precious you made me feel.

Hips. You hated your hips. I loved them. Child bearing hips, you called them, as though that were a terrible thing.

Our children. Their unborn faces haunt me and I choke on their tears.

Stomach, rising and falling with each breath. I remember how my head felt, nestled against your chest, your fingers in my hair. I felt each movement, felt you live, and was at complete peace. How did I ever come to hate that? To hate how content you made me feel?

Your breasts. You wished they were bigger. I told you there were perfect, but you never believed me.

Why? That always frustrated me. Like you couldn´t trust me to be honest with you. It drove me crazy, your insecurities, your constant need to be flattered. And now I long to utter those same nothings, to assure you that you´re perfect, even though you´ll still never believe me, not even now.

Shoulder blades, neck, jaw. Clenched shut, around tears. Your lips part and your eyes…

“We met at a work´s party. Steve brought him as company, but we were both left alone sitting by the dance floor. It was Christmas, but I hadn´t brought a jacket, so he gave me his. We started talking, about movies, music… god, we must have talked for hours. Next thing I knew the DJ was packing up and the glasses were being collected. So we set a date to meet again, and then, well, before I knew it, we were moving in.

Things haven´t been so great between us recently. We wanted different things from life. But he was always my friend, and I hoped, even after everything, we still could be. He listened to me, he was generous, he made a great curry. I´m grateful that I could love him, even for a short time. I wish I could have told him that before, well… before.’

She stops. She´s crying, and I want to hold her, comfort her.

But I can´t. She doesn´t love me anymore. How can she, when she never knew how I felt? Never heard my apology for the way I behaved, the things I said.

The argument in the kitchen. It had been building for months, the tension. I´d been avoiding the apartment and she was avoiding me. Worked well, for a while. Then I did it, the straw. Spent our anniversary down the pub, drinking myself into a stupor because I couldn´t face the lie waiting for me back home. Didn´t know she was making an effort, one last try to save what was already doomed for failure.

She was sat waiting for me when I came home. Sat on the couch, two plates of cold, untouched lasagna on the table, next to a candle and an empty bottle of wine.

She yelled, I yelled, she smashed things, I grabbed her. She pulled away. Threw the keys in my face and told me to leave.

So I drove. Headed out to the beach, walked for miles. Worked off the beer, the anger, the hate. Spent the next day working them off, whilst I sat in my office and tried not to see the curious glances from my colleagues. I was dirty, unshaven, a mess. No phone call interrupted my reverie and I fell asleep at my desk. Woke when a cleaner knocked at the door, pushed her head around the crack and then withdrew just as quickly, full of mumbled apologies that I never heard.

She is walking back to her seat. I want to stay with her, want to watch her forever. But it means only hurt, for me. To see her grieve, to recover, to move on with her life. To see her with another man, enjoying the life I never gave her.

I never told you that I loved you. I never told you that I´m sorry.
I knew then. Back in the office, I knew what a mistake I´d made, how much I wanted to take things back, to turn back time. I grabbed my coat and headed for the car.

You were the first thing, the only thing, the last thing on my mind.

End