Hands

Her hands. They were like ice. Thin, sharp, and un-loving. They conveyed a fear, an unspoken, but ever present fear. I never knew what that fear was until it was too late. It kills me how I made her hands change.
I am from a loving and affectionate family. We hug, we kiss, we embrace. Her family was cold, distant, all the things she was when we started dating. Those hands were my constant reminder of how she felt. They were my constant reminder that she did not share my affection. Her hands were my constant rejection.
Every time we drove I would take her hand. I would warm it. I hated the chill in her hands. It frightened me, it was unknown to me. I would hold her hand in mine. Our fingers intertwined, smoldering the ice with my heat.
For so long her hands were my constant reminder that she did not love me. My constant reminder that I had to grab her hand. That I had to get the chill out of her hand. That she did not love me like I loved her.
Her cold touch was like the sun rising, it happened everyday. I get in the car expecting the sun to rise like it always does. The sun did not rise this day.

She reached over, grabbed my hand, and kissed it. Her hand was warm.

Her hands were always warm after that. I had finally made her understand that I loved her. I had finally made her understand that she didn’t need to be afraid with me. I had finally showed her how comforting affection can be. Her hands were a blazing fire.
Our relationship was never the same after that. Things were perfect. She was perfect.
I never had to reach for her hand, we met in the middle. A blazing fire in the middle of the car. Her hands were my constant reassurance that she loved me. Every time I touched them I remembered. No matter how long it had been since I saw her, no matter how long it had been since I touched those hands, they always felt the same. She became perfect to me.
The problem was I wasn’t.




It is dinner time. She is over with my family. It has been a year now. I reach for the salt shaker just as she does. Our hands touch. Pure ice.


I hurt.