Simply Unsolved

He came to me today. 

We met by chance. 

I asked him to come over. He did. 

When I parked my car and walked up to my house, he was there - 

sitting at the bottom of my steps. My surprise, which started as a dull, aching happiness trapped in my chest, trickled up into a calm and wholesome smile and eased its way into a hopeful hello. 

He came inside. I wanted him there. I wanted him there so badly, it was surreal. 

What's that? He said. A puzzle-map illustrating the history of the United States was laid out in a corner on the floor. 

I had started the 1000-piece puzzle with my little brother, but the pieces were squarishly similar in a way that one piece could fit into many positions. Usually puzzles get easier as you go, but on this one we got stuck so close to the end. 

I bent down to examine the familiar mess. Two-dozen pieces or so lay scattered alongside the puzzle, leaving jigsaw craters in the United States where they refused to be. 

It had been left untouched in its broken state for nearly two weeks. 

I looked up, admiring the length of the man whose presence I was so used to imagining that even now, towering over me, he didn't seem real. 

Want to try and finish it with me? I asked. 

No, he said, looking away, his mind elsewhere. 

I was overly conscious of the space between us as it grew. 

He closed the bathroom door. 

I looked through his things, searching for what I lost, a fool for thinking I might find it manifested in material form. 

But then I did. 
I found that card I made for his birthday from when we were 16. 

We were just kids then. 
Extremely thoughtful and carefree at the same time, it promised forevers. 

I went upstairs; I fastened my necklace and slipped on my ring. 
We stayed up all night and slept all morning. 
He made love to me. 
He kissed me. 
We went out to eat. 
I went back home, and finally finished that puzzle. 

It turns out some of the pieces that seemed to fit were actually in the wrong place. And even though I wanted to believe they fit, it wasn't until I was willing to remove some pieces and try again that the puzzle could finally be solved. 

I guess I realized that if I took out pieces, even though I thought they belonged, it wouldn't be that hard to find the right spot for them again if they truly did. 

I guess there's a word for broken and it doesn't mean the same thing as the word unsolved.