by Monica James
Smoothing out my appearance, I’m hoping I can enter and not bump into anyone, as it’s obvious I’m still in yesterday’s clothes. Roman stands by the door, extending out his hand to allow me to go first. When I brush past him, I smother my moan. It’s probably wise we put some distance between us, because if anyone saw us now, we’d be caught red-handed.
As we walk the quiet halls, I focus on Roman’s sharp breathing, wondering if he’s just as anxious as I am.
“You really need to muzzle your thoughts.” I can’t help but giggle, as nothing slips past Roman.
That laugh carries down the hallway but dies in my throat when we turn the corner and bump straight into Tamara. “Roman?” She peers at our closeness. My blood turns cold.
“Where have you been?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“We just went for a walk.” It’s a pathetic excuse, but it’s all I can muster on such short notice.
“That must have been some walk, because I’ve been waiting for you to come back since yesterday afternoon.” She doesn’t address me. Only focusing on Roman.
Wringing my hands out behind me, I wish I could think on my feet and make up a plausible excuse. Roman’s shadow overlaps mine as he shuffles closer when he senses my anxiety.
To make matters worse, Zoe appears. “Lola? Where have you been? You weren’t in your room last night. I was worried.”
Tamara pales. She knows. “How could you?” When she finally makes eye contact with me, guilt overcomes me.
“That’s enough,” Roman snarls, his fierce warning silencing the room. We’ve drawn the attention of passersby.
“Roman…no.” Desperately latching on to his forearm, I shake my head. I can sense what he’s about to do. He can’t do this. I won’t allow it.
“Why?” Tamara questions, her confusion clear.
“Because…” I know he won’t tell her the truth. He’ll respect my wishes until the bitter end. But I won’t allow him to take the fall. He already has.
“Because he’s been administering me trial drugs,” I confess in a rushed breath. “Drugs I asked him to dispense and keep a secret. There’s a chance I could live, and Dr. Archibald has been my savior and strength when I’ve wanted to give up.”
Peering over Zoe’s shoulder, I notice June standing by the doorway. I have no idea when she arrived, but her disappointment can only mean one thing—she’s heard enough.
Tamara walks over to Roman, who has moved off to the side, not hiding her anger. I really need to talk to him, but I think it’s best if we do so in private.
When our eyes lock, a chill passes over me. Something’s different about him. Something has changed. He breaks contact, and something inside of me breaks as well.
Tamara stands before him, furiously whispering subdued words while he runs both palms down his face, exhaling. He listens, then nods and follows her out of the room, hands dug deep into his pockets. June is no longer visible.
I scurry down the hallway, never happier to see my door. Once inside my room, I decide to change and get ready for the day ahead.
My mind is going a million miles a minute however. What happens now? What did Tamara say to Roman, but more so, what will June say? I should have never asked him to lie for me. This is my fault, and I should be held accountable. He has every right to be mad at me.
What worries me more than my repercussions is the look Roman gave me before he left. He looked saddened, disappointed, but most of all, he looked defeated.
Once I slip on my sneakers, I’m out the door, on the hunt for Roman before volleyball starts.
I have no idea where he’ll be, so I try his office first. As his ajar door comes into view, I freeze when I hear his hushed voice, followed by a woman’s.
June.
“What are you doing with Lola Van Allen?”
The moment I hear my name, I creep forward, stopping a few feet away from the door.
“It’s under control.”
She exhales loudly. “Roman…” She sounds disappointed. “This will only lead to heartache.”
“I know!” he barks. I can picture him pacing the room like a caged tiger. “Did you ever think this was going to end in a happily ever after?”
Silence.
My breathing mounts.
“It won’t,” he finally concludes. “It never will.”
I can’t stand to be here a second longer, as I think I’m going to be sick.
Departing as quietly as I arrived, I make a mad dash for the door at the end of the hall. Once outside, I continue my sprint and slump up against a tree.
I never thought Roman and I would live happily ever after with two point three kids and a hybrid car, but I did think that maybe, especially after last night, the possibility of being together wasn’t so far-fetched. It appears I was wrong.
She’s right. This will end in heartache for so many reasons. The biggest elephant in the room is that I might die. Roman is healthy and strong, and me—I don’t know what I am anymore.
Am I not good enough for Roman? Is that what June is implying? And Roman? He said he doesn’t see us living happily ever after, so why did he kiss me? Did it not mean anything?
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my cell and send him a text.
I hope you’re okay. Sorry about everything.
As far as texts go, it’s quite tame. I wait for ten, twenty, thirty minutes, but I never receive a response. When four hours pass and I’m still looking at my screen, I know something is awfully wrong.
Regardless of one’s misgivings, the globe will keep on turning. It’s a comforting thought knowing that something has structure and reliance in a turbulent world because I still haven’t heard from Roman.
After a day of endless activities and still unable to sit still, I end up in the only place that makes sense anymore. This place is my sanctuary. The sweet, floral smell is fused together with earthy undertones, and I instantly take a deep breath. The familiarities calm my raging heart.
Sadie’s rose is vibrant, the petals lively and in bloom; just how I like to imagine Sadie is wherever she may be. There is no judgment here, only understanding, and it’s times such as these when I need that empathy the most.
Slumped on the ground, I fist a handful of dirt and watch as it slips through my fingers. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I whisper my fears aloud. “I thought I was on the right path, but I don’t know where that leads. For a split second, I thought I had a chance at being normal, but now, I feel so lost…and alone…again.”
Arching my neck, I peer up into the star-filled sky and wish for a sign, an answer to what I should do next. Things with Roman were never easy, but they made sense. In a world of chaos, he was my true north, but now, I’m so far off course I’m afraid I’ll never find my way back home.
“I’m scared,” I confess, engrossed by each star, hoping one will lead me where I should go. “Please give me a sign of what I should do.” None shine brighter than any others, shattering all hope that one has the all-healing answer waiting for me in the cosmos.
Sighing, I toss a fistful of dirt onto the ground, feeling more frustrated and empty than ever before. I’m losing the people I love, but worse still, the person I love is here, but he may as well be gone too.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
I inhale sharply, unsure if this is a sign or a curse.
My eyes shoot upward, ensuring my wistful mind isn’t conjuring a voice I’ve been so desperate to hear. But it appears I’m not going crazy because before me stands Roman. It feels like years, not mere hours since I last saw him.
My fingers itch to touch him, but I shun temptation. “You found me,” I halfheartedly reply. The question is, now that he’s found me, what does he plan to do?
I’m thankful he doesn’t dally in pretenses. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” He needs to be a little more specific.
“For everything.”
I gulp. Does every
thing include our kiss? “Are you a-angry with me?”
“No.” His expression turns tender. “Not at all.”
“Then why the cold shoulder?” I’m being forward, but he’s being evasive.
The atmosphere turns stale.
“It’s better this way. We need to put some space between us. It’s for the best. Things have gotten out of hand. It’s my fault I allowed it to go this far.”
My heart throbs. “Why would you say that?”
“Because.”
“Because isn’t an answer,” I snap, angered he won’t elaborate. And angered he thinks I wasn’t a willing participant.
“It’ll have to do.” I can see his anguish at saying such a thing, so why is he saying it at all?
Sick of these games, I stand, brushing the dirt from my hands. That’s as far as my courage stems. I keep my back turned, unable to face him.
“I know this is all incredibly messed up, and if I could take it back—”
I don’t allow him to finish and spin around, enraged. “I’m not interested in hearing about your wrongdoings and then expecting me to absolve you of your sins. I don’t understand what is going on. I thought things were going okay, and then you go and do a one-eighty, leaving me wondering who the hell I grew to lo—” I stop myself before I say something I regret.
“I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself,” he finally confesses, offering a small insight into his thoughts.
“Why?” I press, not caring he wants his space. Charging over, I clutch his bicep, pleading he talk. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
“I can’t!” he exclaims, lifting his eyes to meet my frightened ones.
A small gasp escapes me.
“Roman…” But he doesn’t allow me to finish.
Tearing his arm out from my grip, he chooses his words wisely. “No, Lola…you and me”—he gestures two fingers back and forth between us—“we won’t work. We can’t.”
I step backward, his confession like a slap across my cheek.
“Please try to understand. This is for the best.”
“Best for whom?” I fold my arms across my chest, hoping to keep out the cold.
“For everyone,” he clarifies, frowning unhappily. “I never should have kissed you.”
A jolt of dejection traps inside my throat. “You r-regret it?”
He smiles, but it’s bittersweet. “No…and that’s the problem.”
“So that’s it, then?” He’s ending something that never even had a chance.
“There are things you don’t understand.”
“Then explain them to me and make me understand.” It’s my final plea.
“I’ve run out of words.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I allow them to fall because this makes it all real. I must accept that this, whatever this was, is really over. It’s now time to move on, but move on to what? I’m afraid of what’s lurking in the shadows.
“Soon, you won’t have to worry about seeing me. You can live, and be strong, and forget you ever met me.”
My mouth parts, and a pained breath breaks free. “What’s that supposed to mean?” It shouldn’t surprise me when I’m greeted with a wall of silence. I’m done with his games. “Roman, you have three seconds to tell me the truth before I walk away, and this, whatever this is”—I throw my hands toward the heavens—“is over.”
He presses his lips together, trapping the words within.
“One…two…” I pause, hoping that the floodgates will open by some miracle, but I should know by now that miracles aren’t real. “Three,” I conclude, wiping away a fallen tear.
Some small part of me believes he will stop me from leaving, but he doesn’t. He bows his head and stares at the ground.
I can’t stand here and be rejected—twice. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…
A shard of moonlight illuminates the field of roses, giving me the strength I need. “For the record, you’re not someone I can ever forget. The fact you think I can shows me that what I felt for you was clearly not reciprocated.” My comment wounds him, but it’s too late. I’m done. “Goodbye, Roman.”
This is his chance to tell me I’m wrong, but he doesn’t. “Goodbye, Lola.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve always hated goodbyes, but this one tears me in two.
Unable to stand here a second longer, I turn and walk blindly to my room.
Once inside, the walls begin closing in on me, and I can’t breathe. I frantically claw at my neck, desperate for air, but in the process, Sadie’s necklace falls to the ground, the clasp broken.
“No!” I cry, scrambling on hands and knees to save it. But it’s too late. “No!”
Ugly tears I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay break the floodgates and come gushing from me in a torrent of desolation.
Through heavy tears, I reach for my phone, needing to lean on her more than I ever have before. My fingers shake, and it takes me three attempts to unlock my cell, but when I do, I open my photos, clicking on the folder which I only allow myself to look at in my dire times of need.
I trace over Georgia’s heart-shaped cheeks, her forever smiling lips, and remember her words of wisdom. How I miss them. If she were here, she’d tell me what to do, but she’s not—no one is.
The thought has me wrapping my fingers around my phone, shaking in saddened rage. Just as I’m about to throw the abomination across the room, another picture flashes across my screen—one too coincidental to ignore.
I asked for a sign, is this it? Is this Georgia and Sadie’s divine intervention?
A tidal wave of emotion smashes into me, leaving me winded as I clutch an arm around my middle, my eyes peeled to the screen. It’s the only picture I took from the baseball game of Roman and me. This encompasses what our relationship, what Roman meant, means to me—it, he matters.
If Roman taught me anything, it was to fight, and that’s what I intend to do.
Pocketing Sadie’s necklace, I scamper around my room with only one purpose in mind. Before I can question my decision, I power up my laptop and lead with my gut.
Once I have everything I need, I slam the door shut behind me and run down the hallway, not looking back. A cab waits for me as I charge down the front stairs. Although every bone hurts in my battered body, I persevere. The taxi driver punches in the address, and we’re speeding down the driveway seconds later.
Everything passes by in a blur, but that’s okay because only one thing needs clarity. My foot bounces against the floor as the driver looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Can you wait for me? If I’m not out in five minutes, you can go.”
He nods, not asking questions.
This is crazy, I reason with myself, but that self is sick of crying and wondering where she went wrong. Once my destination comes into view, I hurl open the door and toss a fifty at the driver. I don’t wait to see if he respects my request.
The weathered front porch steps whine in protest as I charge up them, but the door sputters out a hollowed growl as I bang on it with all my might. Two knocks would probably have been sufficient, but I can’t wait a second longer as I’m afraid I’ll chicken out.
Darting over to the window, I cup my hand to the cloudy glass. There are no lights on inside, so maybe he’s not home. My deflation rises, threatening to catch in my throat. But I refuse to be deterred.
Sprinting around the back, I remember the key I saw underneath the limp potted plant near the back door. It’s not technically breaking and entering if I have a key. The door clicks open with ease, and I don’t even think twice as I enter the kitchen, searching for the light switch on the wall.
The moment the room lights up, I freeze. The fact I’m standing in Roman’s kitchen uninvited hits home. What am I doing?
But now that I’m here, I’m committed; I’m committed to him. I know Roman is doing this because he thinks he’s saving me from heartache. That’s all he’s ever done since we met. I’m going to demand he tell me what
he thinks he’s saving me from because I don’t give up on the people I love. I plan on telling him that too. And if he still wants me gone, then I’ll go with my head held high and no regrets.
I just need him to tell me because I can’t live whatever life I live without knowing why.
Freud comes lazily strolling into the kitchen, not at all concerned I’m standing in his house uninvited. I calm my breathing, taking a moment to compose myself in case Roman is moments from bursting through the door.
My composure suddenly alerts me to something different, something missing. Turning in a slow circle, I realize that even though Roman had limited supplies, his kitchen had the standard appliances such as a microwave, toaster, and even a fruit bowl. But now, it appears bare.
Alarm bells sound loudly in my head, a warning that I’m to turn and depart the way I came, but I can’t. My hands are unsteady as I madly open each cupboard, drawer and find one thing in common with each—they’re all empty.
Leaning against the counter, I cover my gaping mouth, attempting to piece together what is going on. I don’t have to look too hard. Roman gave me the final piece; I was just too blind to appreciate what it meant.
“Soon, you won’t have to worry about seeing me.”
No. He can’t. It doesn’t end this way.
My good sense is left in the kitchen as my feet are planted in his empty living room, peering around at a gaping emptiness comparable to what I’m feeling right now. All that is left is one wooden chair and his TV.
“No,” I weep, running from room to room, only to be confronted by the same sight. Each room is emptier than the one before it. No wonder he checked us into a hotel last night.
When I reach his bedroom, I blink past my tears. The bed that provided me so much comfort in my darkest hours is no longer swathed in silk sheets or a velvety comforter. All that’s left is a single mattress in the center of the room, blanketed with a starchy white sheet and crowned with a flat pillow.
This now looks like a squatter’s den rather than the house that was my sanctuary when I needed it the most. Closing the door, I only wish I could shut out the utter torment I feel right now. The spare room that was once filled with boxes is now empty, just like the rest of this house.
