Welter

What did Welter inspire?

noun; meaning "a confused mass,

a state of commotion, turmoil, or upheavel"

or                            

verb; meaning "to roll, toss, or heave,

to lie bathed or drenched in something"



Noël Coleman

“You left me in a welter.”

I paused, to turn the cardboard cup in my hands. Anything to pass the time without more words, to make this moment freeze up and wait for me to be okay before it passed.

“Anna?”

There was a rush of air from your lungs before I even met your eyes. I knew, right then, we were doomed. I looked down. There was something in those green eyes that I realized, posthumously, I never wanted to see. 

“I didn’t mean to. I – I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean it.”

The cup was becoming more fascinating with every passing second.

Red cardboard.

Rubbing your hands down the side creates a scratching rhythm.

I try writing the sound in my mind.

Onomatopoeia would probably be easier to figure out if you didn’t reach out and grab my hand, thank you very much.

“Stop it. I hate that noise.”

I roll my eyes, and I can feel your stupid smirk.

“I don’t have a choice. Not if you insist on holding my hand.”

“Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Maybe I don’t. Whatever.”

“I’m sor-,”but I don’t give you the chance to finish.

“Don’t. It’s far, far too late. And I should have told you before. And I don’t even want to talk about it anyway.”

It’s not like me to interrupt.

“Fine.”

I falter. It’s not like you to let it go.

Then again, it’s not every day I decide to announce my undying affection over a cup of stale, watered down coffee. So maybe we’re just breaking with tradition all around.

Maybe you’ll just let it go. Maybe we really won’t ever talk about this again.

“Which ‘welter’ did I leave you in?” Okay, fine, maybe not. 

“What?”

“Which welter? Were you confused because I left without a goodbye? Did I throw you into turmoil over

where I disappeared to? Did you cry yourself to sleep when you remembered the last time you saw me? I think those work with the word. Maybe a bit too melodramatic for your usual tastes. But I dunno. It seemed to work for me.”

You were tripping over words, coming out too fast and too loud for our crowded space. You don’t trip over words; I do.

“What are you talking about?”

“I love you too.”

Oh. 

I should say something.

Okay, no really. Now you’re looking at me with those eyes again.

I thought I wasn’t going to look at them anymore today?

I should really say something.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Well… yeah”

“You just said you loved me and freaked out and now I’m saying I feel the same way and ‘Oh’? All I get is ‘oh’?”

“I’m not sure what I’m… I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.”

“Oh.”

“Shut your face.”

“Alright,” You sound... exasperated? The scrape of your chair turns more heads than our furious whispers had managed.

“You’re leaving?”

“No. I’m going to buy us another round of coffee. More coffee is needed for this.”

I returned to staring at my cup.

Oh.

“No. Wait. Look at me first.”

I tilted my face up to you.

It hurt my neck.

You’re too absurdly tall.

Okay, brain, calm down.

“I’m looking. I’d rather see you holding another cup of coffee.”

You laugh, and I think maybe, maybe we’ll be okay if we just forget about this.

“Since I’m hoping for an answer beyond ‘oh,’ I figure I should give you some time to prepare.”

“Gee, thanks.”

This is good. This is lighthearted. This is… us.

“I’m going to ask you out on a real date tonight. I’m hoping you’ll say yes. If you don’t… If you don’t, I’m going to ask you again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after. Because I love you. And I left because I was stupid. I’m not leaving again. Not without you.”

You turn towards the counter.

I feel like my head is exploding.

You turn around again.

I wonder if anyone else notices how crazed you look right now.

“Cream, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Yes. Don’t leave.”

I don’t.