We Had to Remove This Post

by Hanna Bervoets

which is why Gregory asks, “But what’s the worst thing you ever saw?” rather than “How is that girl doing now? Were you able to help her, by any chance?” God no, people have no idea what my previous job actually entailed, and that’s partly your fault,

Yena’s insecurities were soap bubbles that I had to keep popping, like in that game you play on your phone, but new ones kept appearing and I didn’t want to lose, I didn’t want to lose her, because she laughed at my jokes and told me I was beautiful and she understood what was so good about not all but some cop shows, and at night, when she was lying with her head against my chest, which fit exactly because she was so petite, she made my heart beat slower—yes, slower, and that was exactly what I needed.

Maybe falling in love isn’t filling up a loyalty card with feelings and actions so much as just adding two things together: desire plus fear. The desire had appeared fairly suddenly—ever since that first kiss, really. The fear, on the other hand, grew gradually: fear that she wouldn’t be coming to the sports bar that night, fear that we wouldn’t end up kissing, fear that she’d change her mind. Those were pretty much the stages of falling in love for me.

But man, there was a gorgeous woman in my bed, and when it was my turn to pay I was so euphoric that I told the boy at the cash register to keep the change, even though it was almost enough for a pack of cigarettes.

Sometimes I think I understand it, but before long I’m back to overanalyzing what she said, what I said, what we did and didn’t do in the run-up to that day, and then I start doubting again: Maybe it was different.