HOW I LOVED TO HATE HER
A slightly crumpled sheet of paper lay in her desk drawer beside her resignation letter. I picked it up, and something told me it was meant for me. Suddenly, I remembered an old childhood gameplaying spies with the lads, passing secret messages written in lemon juice or milk, using cotton buds as pens. Wed hold the paper over a gas flame to reveal the hidden words. Lisa and I had even joked about those silly games once.
Barely waiting for lunch break, I rushed home and, like a lovestruck schoolboy, fumbled with the paper over the stove. And I was rightIm always right! It *was* her letter. Shes just as mad as I am!
*»If youre reading this, I wasnt wrong about you,»* Lisa had written. *»You worked it out. Things couldve been different. But humiliating me killed everything I felt for you. I think you even enjoyed it. Maybe thats all youre capable of. Just because youve been hurt doesnt mean you get to mock those who wont retaliate. Did you think I couldnt have paid you back? But then, that wouldnt be me. You can win a battle and lose the war. Dont look for me. Goodbye.»*
*Why?* I keep asking myselfwhy did I hate her so terribly, so fiercely?
The moment she walked in, it was like she brought sunshine, moonlight, and the scent of the sea all at once. Birds burst into fantastical songs, roses and tulips bloomed on the spot. Im no romantic, but I *felt* it. The room grew stifling. I was burning up.
Lisa wasnt classically beautiful, but she had *something* that drove me wildI still cant explain it. And dont think I hadnt known beautiful women. Oh, I had. Brunettes, blondes, redheadsthough I preferred brunettes with pixie cuts. Flowers, chocolates, datesId done it all. Id loved and been loved. I fell fast, shrugged off rejections, and moved on to more willing hearts.
My first love? A messy breakup. I wallowed. Then I realisedbeing in control was far better than begging.
But with Lisa? I just wanted to bury my face in her lap, trace her soft skin, twist my fingers in her honey-brown curls, breathe her inendlessly, shamelessly.
She was my subordinate. Not my best employee, but the one I relied onalways on time, even with the toughest projects. I *could* shout at her, relish my power. Why? I dont know. Shed shrink, looking so fragile, and Id want to crush her further. But she never broke. If shed just *cried*thatd have been my victory. Id have wiped her tears, comforted her. Maybe then Id have changed.
I tried everything to get her attentionchocolates, compliments, lingering stares. I wanted to touch her, *know* her. And I almost didI swore she felt it too. When she was near, my skin prickled like Id been scalded.
Once, I hugged her. She shoved me off, silent, eyes locked on mine. *How dare she?*
She was my equal, though I refused to admit it. WorseI feared she was *the one*. But she wasnt mine. That infuriated me.
Watching her handle life was fascinating. She solved problems effortlessly. My mates smirked, assuming Id «bagged» her, secretly hoping for their own chance. It stungbecause it wasnt true.
She was untouchable.
Id flirt with other women on the phone in front of her, trying to spark jealousy. She didnt even glance my way. Just silence.
I *knew* she felt it tooevery cell in my body screamed it. She *had* to. I *needed* her to.
She needed this job. I thought shed endure anything, that one day shed kneel at my feet, and Id shower her with love. I *ached* for it.
But pride doesnt just break wallsit demolishes everything.
Then Friday came. She didnt. Phone off, email blocked. That minx left a project unfinished. Shed betrayed me.
Like a cloud, she vanishedalways just out of reach.
I thought it couldnt happen.
How wrong I was.
It *does* happen.
