He acted like
he was above it all,
with his slight acknowledgment
sometimes
and sideways glances
that turned into long, squinty stares
on the occasions he chose to
look in our direction,
like we didn’t deserve
his effort
or time
unless it was intentionally offered
by him.
Bending over
the kitchen bar,
resting his cheek
on the counter
as he sat on the stool,
he smoldered
wallowed
sighed
glared
and spoke only in vague terms
of her,
and how he would not allow himself –
fully refused! –
to be with someone
anyone
because now
he knew better.
It was pride
mixed with arrogance
and shame –
possibly sadness too,
if he were capable of that.
He was punishing himself
for having feelings
he didn’t want
to have anymore
for someone
who didn’t reciprocate them
and maybe never had.
But it still seemed
performative.
He wasn’t processing
or quiet
about it.
Rather, it was part of
his persona,
like he had to make sure
we all knew
he believed
he deserved the penance
he was putting himself through
so we would feel sorry
for him
and he could respond
by scoffing
at our supposed ignorance.