It's a struggle, and I'm letting go. I'm not letting go of Julie, but of the denial that I'm in love with her. I must be. Everything has been working ironically because everything I've convinced myself of is a lie. I don't know what love is, but the good feelings feel bad, and the bad feelings feel good, and soon I won't know which is which. Every thought seems a contradiction of itself; every feeling hurts. Can I be in love with Julie? God--bitter, spiteful god that you are--help me. How can this be true? How could it be anything else? What else could be so impervious to logic? If I am in love with Julie I am also in serious trouble, for it will never be requited. And if it was hard to be around her before, it will be impossible from now on. I say that love is impervious to logic, but when I say I'm in love with Julie, nearly everything I've thought or felt or denied thinking or feeling about Julie makes sense. But--oh, I don't want this! Damn it all!
I can't judge my day today at work as good, bad, neutral or anywhere in between. The more I tried to ignore Julie, the more I just wanted to stare at her, which I did at least twice to her face. Before I'd yet seen her today I knew she was to relieve me from the window. I didn't want to be there when she did, so I went to the 24/7 room to scour the bins for books, though I'd done it just the minute before. As I emerged I knew peripherally where she was, standing between her desk and the window station, facing me. From eight feet away I finally fully raised my head and gazed levelly at her, daring her to speak to me. I would not have been the first to speak. That was not a determination; I simply was content to stare at her face, and it was up to her to remove it. "Dion," she said, cautiously testing a smile, "I'm ready to take over for you at the window." "Okay," I said. It wasn't hard to suppress a smile--I didn't feel it--but the corners of my mouth twitched almost imperceptibly upward. "Thank you." "You're welcome," she said as we both turned from each other.
At three o'clock I relieved her from the desk. When I approached she was turned from me and the desk, talking to Jen. A patron approached the desk, and Julie partially turned toward them, but I stepped up and reached for their checkouts. Julie's turn to see whose arm had intervened and my step closer to intercept the patron brought us face to face, barely a foot apart. I stared down into her right eye (it was very dark) and said in a strong, clear voice, "I'm up." "You are?" she said. I didn't answer or move. She slid off the chair and left. It was then I knew I just wanted to stare at her. And it's about all I can do and not betray my affection. Love. God, not love!
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