Indecision

He stood staring at the oak-stained door in front of him. It was just a cheaply made, economy-style door, but right now it was a symbol of all that stood between them. All the petty fights and the little annoyances, the often irrational anger and that bone-deep suffering that only love can cause; all of it came together to be represented by this one door.

The threshold itself was a choice, a defining moment in his life. Would he allow all of the pain and misunderstanding of the past to be his excuse for not taking that great leap of faith or would he move forward, open the door and jump?

On the one hand, he had come this far. After three weeks, five days and approximately ten and a half hours of regret, anger, hurt, anger and just general indecision he now found himself starring at this poorly constructed door to her apartment.

On the other hand, he was still really angry over all that had happened. There were trust issues to be dealt with and apologies to be made on both sides and he wasn’t sure that what was left over was worth all the work that was needed.

The truth was that he felt like he didn’t know her anymore. She hadn’t called him at all since their last fight and now he wondered whether she even wanted to fix things between them. Perhaps she had been glad to see him leave and wouldn’t want to see him now.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea to have just come by rather than calling her first. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea at all. These problems and fights had been part of their relationship since the very beginning and perhaps it was time they both simply walked away.

He’d been standing outside her door now for at least ten minutes and he still didn’t know whether to knock or whether to just turn and walk away. There were so many questions to be answered. Did she love him? Did he love her? Did he even want her love anymore?

He thought back to the good times. There wasn’t that many really. They seemed to always be fighting or just getting over a fight. Sometimes they were just about to start a fight. Why was this so hard? People always say that love is worth fighting for, but was their fight worth loving? Did that even make sense?

Suddenly the door opened and she was standing right in front of him. She looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Without a word, she crossed her arms and waited for him to say something. She was waiting for him to say that he was sorry.

The only problem was that he wasn’t sure that he was sorry. She had played a part in all this too and he was sick of always having to be the villain. He said sorry first every single time. She always made him feel like he was in the wrong.

He looked into her eyes and he said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Then he turned around and walked away. As he headed outside he couldn’t help smiling a little to himself.

He had finally made a decision and it was the best thing that he had ever done.