by Blair, E. K.
I’m going crazy, and no matter how many weeks pass, my hurt still remains.
January creeps along slowly, achingly slow, eventually rolling over and dumping me into February, and I’m done.
I can’t keep going on like this.
It’s been months, and I’m no better. Nothing is better. Life still sucks, and I’m still miserable.
I’m so over feeling like shit because of her, because of what she did to us.
The hope that she’ll come around is fading, and as much as I want to keep hanging on, I can’t do it anymore. I’m drowning, trapped in the undertow of I want yous, I love yous, and I miss yous. I’ve been clutching on to faith in my hands where her fingers belong. I’ve been holding on to hope in my throat where her lips should rest, but instead, it wraps around my neck like a noose, strangling the life out of me.
I just want to breathe again.
I want to be free of this pain, go back to having fun, and enjoy life again. And why shouldn’t I? She’s the one who threw me away.
The answer is easy: Because I love her.
But at the same time, this isn’t fair to me.
In a last-ditch effort to see if I should continue holding out for her, I send her a text.
Me: I need you to tell me if I still have a chance with you. I still love you, but if this is truly over, you have to let me know. Hanging on to you is killing me.
Scared of what she might say, I turn my phone off and head into my last lecture of the day. When class ends and I go back outside, the sun is now hidden behind dark storm clouds that split open as I walk out to the parking lot and get into my Jeep. It’s now, with the rain pouring down, that I turn my phone back on. While I wait for the screen to come to life, I allow my heart space to beat freely as anticipation grows within the fibers of optimism.
Kate: You can stop hanging on to me.
And just like that, she fucking shreds me.
KATE
I’m freefalling from the highest point of velocity, straight toward the concrete below, and it’s my own fault.
After all, I’m the one who sent the text a couple days ago, telling him to stop hanging on to me.
Now, all I’m left with is the unrelenting fear as I wait for the impending impact.
I had to delete the text from my phone; I couldn’t look at it without enduring a barrage of regret. Depending on the day, hour, minute, or second, I sway back and forth in my conviction to walk away from the best thing I’ve ever known. I’m like a little kid lost in one of those wacky carnival mirror mazes. There’s no telling if it’s me I’m looking at or if it’s a reflection of a reflection of a reflection, and no matter where I turn, I can’t find my way out. I often have the urge to slam my fists against the glass to break free from this atrocity I’ve thrown myself into.
“Thank god it’s Friday.” Ady flops down in the chair across the table from me in the student center. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to get sick of this place.”
Immediately, I want to ask her about Trent, ask how he’s doing, but I’m scared of the answer. Scared he’s back to living his single life, relieved to be free of me—the weak and indecisive girl he probably regrets getting mixed up with.
I wouldn’t blame him.
“Where have you been?”
“I was on the phone with Micah,” she tells me, and I brace myself for what I know is coming.
“So, what’s the verdict?”
“It’s official. We’re moving.”
Sulking back in my seat, I sigh. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.”
“I’m not leaving you yet,” she rushes to assure me. “I’ll be back all the time.”
It didn’t come as a total shock when she and Micah got engaged over Christmas. We all saw it coming, but knowing that after we graduate in a few months, she’ll be moving with him to San Diego sucks. I’ve been doing my best to mask how I really feel and put on a happy face for her, but it finds a way of seeping out. Selfishly, I want her to stay.
Without Ady, I really have nothing in Miami. Looking back on these past four years, I have so many regrets. All of my friendships suffered when I got involved with Caleb, and when I ran back home and didn’t tell anyone, it created an even bigger wedge. Now, all the people I used to hang with are hanging with Trent, while I’m alone on a sinking island.
Everyone is moving on with their lives while mine is going nowhere. I should be excited and wearing the same smile as Ady, but it’s hard to find anything to be happy about right now.
“Have you told your mom?”
She cringes. “No. She’s going to be so sad when I do that I don’t want to tell her over the phone,” she says. “Micah and I have to find a weekend to go visit her and break the news.”
Sarcastically, I tell her, “Have fun with that.”
“Gee, thanks.” She reaches for the cup of coffee that’s in my hands and takes a sip. “Ugh, gross. What’s in this?”
I laugh when she hands it back over. “Stevia.”
“What’s wrong with sugar? Lord knows you need the calories.”
I sneer, but she’s right. I haven’t been taking care of myself, and it’s been hard to stomach food.
“Seriously, you need to be eating donuts with your coffee,” she jokes, but it’s hard to smile when even the mention of donuts holds memories of Trent.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Her face straightens. “So, how are you doing? I feel like I’ve been so flighty the past couple of weeks.”
“It’s fine. You have a lot going on,” I respond, dodging her question, which, of course, she notices.
“Are we still not talking about Trent?”
“Nope,” I confirm with a shake of my head.
Even though we broke up almost four months ago, I never told her about the conversation I had with him at the New Year’s Eve party or the text I sent him two days ago, so I understand why she thinks the topic should be safe. But it isn’t.
“So, what are you doing for the rest of the day?”
I take another sip of my coffee, and she’s right, this stevia tastes like shit. “I think I’m going to hit the water. I haven’t been on my board all week.”
“Want to grab dinner afterward?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you when I leave the beach.”
We hang out for a little while longer until she goes off to her last class of the day. Before I head home, I run over to the university bookstore to grab an exam book for a test I have next week.
I walk inside and stop the instant I see Trent standing with a small group of people. Seeing him steals the oxygen right out of me, and I know I should duck out and grab my exam book later, but I can’t bring myself to move as emotions take over me.
He talks to a couple of buddies of his who look familiar, but it’s the girl standing next to him who has my heart drumming out of rhythm. It’s a complex feeling to watch him, the person I came to know so deeply has become a stranger I don’t talk to anymore.
It isn’t right that I’m not going up to him, saying hello, and kissing his lips. I should be the girl at his side—not her. And then the thought of who she is, who she might be to him, sucker punches me. The impact is aggressive, and I have to bite my cheek to quell the overpowering jealousy growing inside.
Trent stays back when they start to disperse, and a small portion of my heart is comforted when the girl grabs his friend’s hand as they head out. My breath catches in my throat the moment he looks up from his phone and sees me staring. I don’t know if I should be relieved that he finally notices me standing here or heartbroken.
He’s emotionless, and it hurts that I’m the one who put that look on his face. I wonder when my feelings for him will begin to fade. Timidity spirals through me with each step I take as I walk over, but he remains unmoving.
“Hey.” My voice comes out uneven, a noticeable tell of my nerves, but he doesn’t respond. Looking into his eyes, which have captured me since day one, I fight the
gravity trying to pull me closer to him because he’s no longer mine. “How are you?”
“How the fuck do you think I am?”
I hate that he’s so angry. I open my mouth to speak, but I’m clueless as to what to say or how to talk to him anymore.
“What do you want?”
Shrugging, I shake my head, uncertain of everything as I stand here, shattered, heartbroken, and despising myself for not being strong enough for him. “I just miss you,” I admit honestly.
His only reaction is a humorless laugh, which he drops a moment later. “Do me a favor,” he says, his tone firm with annoyance. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
He doesn’t give me a second look before he walks away. My heart screams for him to come back, but I know better than to call out because this is exactly what my heart does. It leads me down foolish paths lined with hopeless hopes and uncertain certainties, so I let him go, despite the yearning to chase after him and all his perfection.
Perfection is a myth though. I’m weary of roses because of their hidden thorns. Trent thinks I dream of white picket fences—he calls them glorified cages. But cages keep us safe from the scary world that lies on the other side of the bars—the unforeseen, the unpredictable, the inevitable. The thought of walking through life without any protection scares me more than walking through life not entirely sure my heart is still in my chest.
A tiny voice inside me whispers, “What if his love is enough to shock the beat back to life inside you, making you stronger than what you ever were before?”
Never have I felt more lost than I do right now. Turning around, I exit out the same door I just came through and go straight to my car. Each step I take illuminates more fears, more doubts, more questions, and I realize I’m running in the wrong direction. These past four years have led me nowhere but backward. I’m more alone, more lost, more confused than ever.
What the hell am I even doing?
Getting behind the wheel, my hands tremble beneath the weight of my fucked-up world. My keys slip out from my fingers and fall onto the floorboard. Looking to where they landed by my feet, it all becomes too much, and a tear slips down my face.
I’m so lost.
Pulling my cellphone from my bag, I reach out to the one person who might be able to shine some clarity down on me.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Dad, I really need to talk to you.”
“Is everything okay? You sound upset,” he says, and his voice is so much of a comfort that I begin to cry harder.
“Everything’s falling apart.”
KATE
After I called my dad yesterday, he decided to take today off work so he could come to Miami and talk to me. He could tell how upset I was, but he felt we should have this conversation in person rather than over the phone, so he did what he could to assure me that whatever was going on would be okay as I sat in my car and cried.
Anxiety fuels my body as I pace my condo, waiting for him to get here, and as soon as the knock comes, I rush to open the door.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He smiles tenderly and wraps me up in a hug I’ve been in desperate need of.
My body slacks into his comforting arms. “Thanks for coming.”
Although I’m dreading this conversation, I know it needs to be had. I can’t continue holding all of this inside me, and I need his advice so badly.
“Let’s sit,” he says, and when we’re situated on my couch, he lays a hand on my knee. “So, what’s going on? What has you so upset?”
With a defeated sigh, I tell him, “I don’t even know where to start. I’m just so lost.”
“What is it you’re trying to find?”
His question makes me think a dimension deeper about what it is I’m searching for, and I sag my shoulders. “I don’t know.”
I wait for him to speak, to guide me through this, but he doesn’t. He simply peers into my eyes, imploring me to dig even deeper and find for myself what it is I’m trying to say.
“It’s like . . . the whole universe is in motion, and I’m being left behind.”
He nods. “You’re in a moment of transition. It’s normal to feel that way, to be confused about where you’re going and how you’re going to get there,” he says. “You’re about to graduate. That can be a scary thing for some people.”
“I feel like I can’t find the path I’m supposed to be on,” I admit. “Everyone around me is moving forward, making plans, getting engaged, finding jobs . . .” Dropping my head, I mindlessly fidget with the hem of my T-shirt. “I walk out of my condo, and I have no clue which way to turn.”
“Life doesn’t come with a road map. I wish it did so that I could give it to you, but we have to figure it out on our own.”
“That’s just it,” I respond. “I’m scared of not knowing what to do or if I’m going to go down the wrong road.”
He chuckles lightly. “That’s inevitable, honey. Everyone winds up traveling down the wrong road at one point or another. If you never take the wrong one, you would never appreciate the right ones. It’s part of the adventure.”
With a weak smile, I shake my head. “An adventure I don’t want to go on.”
“Unfortunately, you don’t get that choice. You’re on it whether you like it or not.”
I blow out a breath of frustration as I lean back into the couch and stare at the ceiling. “Why do I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore?”
“Because these are the years when nobody knows who they are. You aren’t the same person you were when you came here four years ago, and you probably aren’t going to become the person you thought,” he tells me, and when I lift my head and look at him, he continues. “That’s the natural order of life. It’s going to take you places you don’t want to go and kill off parts of you that aren’t meant to stay.”
His words sink into me, through my skin straight down into my bones, where they penetrate my fears. The unknown is a scary place for me to be—yet, here I am in the thick of it.
“What does Trent say about all this?” he asks, still unaware that we aren’t together anymore. “Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?”
I shake my head when a wave of sadness washes over me.
“Why not?”
The moment my eyes prick, I close them. My father’s hand cups my shoulder, and I swear he cracks the bone beneath. I try not to whimper, but it comes out anyway.
“Is everything okay between the two of you?”
I sniff, and his grip on me tightens when I finally reveal, “We broke up.”
After blinking open my eyes, I wipe my face.
“When did this happen?”
“When you were in the hospital after you got shot.”
His brows lift in surprise. “That was four months ago; why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Cowardly, I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“I just didn’t want to wind up heartbroken.”
Confusion etches lines in his forehead. “What does that mean?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, dreading having to tell him the truth, to expose a side of myself I seriously doubt he knows even exists. It takes a second for me to admit, “I was becoming a burden to him.”
“He told you that?”
“No. He would never tell me that; Trent’s too nice of a guy to ever admit to feeling that way.”
“Why would you be a burden to him?”
I give a weak shrug because I’m scared to admit the truth to my dad.
“A shrug isn’t enough,” he says. “You’re going to have to spell it out for your old man.”
I crack a feeble smile, but it quickly vanishes. “I kind of went through some things after Caleb and I broke up, and I put a lot of that on Trent’s shoulders.”
“He didn’t like that?”
“What guy wants to deal with his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend baggage?”
“A guy who’s
in love.” I shake my head, and he adds. “Everyone has baggage, sweetheart.”
“I have a lot,” I mutter.
“But you said he never complained. So, why are you assuming you were a strain on him?”
“Because . . .” I hesitate to say anything more because a part of me feels like it would be a betrayal of Trent’s trust. But at the same time, I need my dad’s help to sort through this mess, and I can’t do that if I’m not honest.
“Because why?”
“Because of his mom,” I reveal. “She relies on him a lot for emotional support. Ever since he was a kid. Every time something goes wrong, she depends on him to pick up the pieces, and it’s been really hard on him. He’s never said anything to her about how he feels, but he’s told me.”
“But how can you compare you trying to get over a break up to years of what she’s been doing?”
“Because it was more than just a breakup; I don’t really want to get into it. It’s just been a rough time for me and then with you getting shot . . . I guess I didn’t realize just how much I had been depending on him.”
“Did you try talking to him about it?”
“He never would’ve told me the truth, but I know I was wearing on him and I didn’t want to be that person.”
“What person?”
“A needy person who can’t deal with her own problems.”
“No one expects you to deal with them all on your own. We all need help sometimes,” he says. “Relationships are all about giving and taking.”
“Exactly. And all I’ve been doing is taking.”
“It’s a balancing act. Look at your mother and I, ever since I landed myself in the hospital, that woman has been doing nothing but giving while I’ve been taking,” he explains. “It’s the season we’re in right now because I need her, and when it’s her turn to need me, guess what? I’ll be doing all the giving and she’ll be doing all the taking. Between those unbalanced moments, the give and take will even out. You just have to give it time.”
