Ruin

by Clarissa Wild

  He sighs. “I’m not worth this fight, May.”

  I stomp my crutch on the ground instead of my foot. “Goddammit, Alex. Yes, you are! Stop saying that. I’ve had enough of this. Get off that ledge, right now.”

  “Why?”

  Tears start to roll down my cheeks. “Because I need you, Alex. Because I can’t live this life with this leg without you. Don’t make me fucking pull you off with my crutch, goddammit.”

  For a second, I think I spot a brief smile on his face. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “This is not the time for stupid jokes.”

  “I know, I know …” He turns his head away for a second. “So this is how it’s going to go?”

  “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You’re not going anywhere,” I say, plucking away the hair from in front of my eyes. “Not before you’ve properly atoned for your sin.”

  After a few seconds, he turns his head. “How?”

  “By being here. By my side. Making my life, and yours, better … each and every day.”

  I take a step forward as his leg pulls away from the edge even more.

  “I don’t care if I have to drag you off that ledge. You’re coming with me, Alex Wright.”

  “Even after everything you just heard? After telling you that I caused all your pain?”

  “I don’t care about any of that. You’re not evil. You didn’t do it to hurt me. You were hurt.” I swallow away the tears. “And if this wouldn’t have happened … then I would never have met you. All the pain was worth it because I have you now.”

  When I’m close enough, I hold out my hand. “Now, grab my hand like I took yours back in the hospital before I slap you with my crutch.”

  The left side of his lip tips upward. “You really have a way with words, Maybell.”

  “Damn right, I do. I haven’t sworn this much in ages, thanks to you.”

  “I guess it had to come out, one way or another.” He leans forward and grabs my hand. I squeeze him so tight that his face contorts. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Good,” I growl, which makes him chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you’re laughing.”

  “On the surface, yeah.”

  I help him get off the ledge. He pats his legs and looks away at the lake, staring off into the distance while he leans on the edge he just sat on. I stand there with him, gazing at the sky above and wishing things could’ve gone differently.

  After a while, he breaks the silence. “You know, all those years I was so depressed. So many things happened that took my happiness away. Bullies. My dad’s cardiac arrest. Family fights. My lack of interests. Bad grades. I couldn’t escape the guilt or the emotions. I wanted to disappear from the world.”

  “And then my accident happened.”

  He sighs softly. “Yes, but can we really call it an accident if I stood in your way?”

  “It was. We both weren’t looking.”

  He bites his lip. “I don’t know. All I know is that it was a pivotal moment. From then on out, I decided I needed to be there for you and help you in any way that I possibly could. Even befriend you … or more.”

  “Even to the point of having sex with me,” I add.

  His eyes twitch. “Yes and no. I did that because it made you happy. Because you needed it, and I wanted to give you everything you wished for to make up for what I did. But deep down, I knew I wanted it too. I wanted you. Always did.”

  I blow out a big breath, trying to cope with all the information.

  “And that very need made me want to do this.”

  “You think you don’t deserve me?” I ask.

  “How can I, after what I did?”

  I suck on my lips and take a deep breath. “Then earn it. Earn the right to stand beside me. Earn the right to love me. Earn the right to receive my love. You owe it to yourself. You owe it to me …”

  He nods slowly, looking down at the water below. “I never wanted to deceive you, May. That was never my intention. I only wanted to make you happy. To fix what I’d done. But I slowly came to realize that isn’t possible.”

  “You can’t fix everything,” I say. “But what you can fix is your own attitude toward life. Your guilt. I can’t take that away from you. Only you can.”

  He smiles. “I realize that now. I have to forgive myself first before anyone else ever can.”

  I place my hand over his and squeeze. He squeezes back.

  The cloud above his head has lifted, and for the first time, it feels like there are no more secrets between us.

  “So … what now?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “We can’t just go back to how we were.” He looks at me with depressed eyes. “Maybe we need some time apart. You know, to get better. On our own.”

  “But how will I know you won’t pull a stunt like this again?”

  He smiles. “Well, I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but if I say I won’t … will you believe me?”

  I frown and narrow my eyes. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe,” he repeats. “Well, it’s a start.”

  “You’re right.” I sigh. “I need a time-out and so do you.”

  He nods and slams his lips shut. Even though we both don’t want to hear it, it’s the truth.

  I look at him and then pull him in for a hug, sniffing as the tears start to run again. I whisper in his ear, “Promise me you’ll be happy again. One day. If you won’t do it for you, then do it for me. Ask for help.”

  His hand slides down my back. “Let’s make a promise to each other.”

  I nod, brushing away the tears. I know it has to be said. I know it has to be done. But that doesn’t make it any less difficult.

  “Let’s get better first, okay?”

  He nods, licking his lips.

  “Promise me you’ll be happier.”

  “I will,” he says. “And you promise me you’ll keep writing, no matter what. Don’t stop until you’re famous.”

  I nod, smiling, but on the inside, I want to huddle in a corner and weep.

  “Even if I may not be there to see it happen, you keep going,” he says.

  I shake my head. “If you won’t live for yourself, live for me. Live until you’re happy again,” I say. “Promise me, Alex. Promise me you won’t stop living.”

  “I promise,” he says after a few seconds.

  I wish I could give him happiness, but I know deep down I can’t. Nobody can. Happiness isn’t something you can give away. It’s something that you feel inside, and you can only come to that happy place on your own.

  Just like how it is with love. You can’t love someone if you can’t love yourself.

  He grabs my chin and makes me look at him. “Don’t give up, okay? That’s the last thing I want.”

  I bite my lip. “I won’t, I promise.”

  It sounds like we’re saying goodbye.

  Maybe we are. Maybe we aren’t.

  There’s no guarantee. There never is. Not in real life.

  But I know that he won’t give up on his promise … just as I won’t give up on mine. And if this is how it’s supposed to go, then we’ll have to let it happen.

  He turns around and starts to walk, and I keep my eyes on him at all times to make sure he doesn’t attempt to jump off again. But he doesn’t. He keeps going, just as he said he would. For me.

  “Hey, Alex!” I call out. “Promises can never be broken. You know that right?” I yell.

  A smug smile crosses his face. “Next time we meet … I’ll see you run.”

  Renewal

  Maybell

  Months later

  “The photos are excellent,” Dr. Hamford says.

  “So do I have a GO?” I ask, clenching my knees.

  The stitches are long gone too, and although it was painful when they pulled them out, the scar healed nicely.

  The doctor smiles. “Yes, you can start walking without crutches now.”


  I squeal out loud. I can’t help myself. I’m just that happy about regaining my freedom, step by step.

  “But you have to be careful,” he adds. “Take it slow. Don’t overdo it.”

  “I know, I know. Take it day by day. Not too much walking and slowly build up. My physical therapist reminds me every time,” I muse.

  “Good. If you keep going at this rate, you’ll be walking with no trouble at all soon enough.”

  I get up from my seat. He joins me, and we shake hands. “Thanks, doc. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m happy it turned out so great. And don’t worry about the metal in your leg. It can stay in until the end unless it’s bothering you, of course. Then we can take it out. But that won’t be for another year so just focus on recovering.”

  “I will,” I say, nodding. “Well … goodbye!”

  He winks. “Good luck!”

  I walk out the room with just one crutch, as I’ve been doing for the past month. My leg still hurts, but not as much as it used to, and I can walk a little further now, maybe even going around a block or two.

  I stop for a second and pop a pill, feeling happy that I’m only taking two Tylenol a day now. It’s really going well, even with managing the pain, which is getting less and less as the weeks go by.

  As I get outside to the waiting area where my mom and dad are sitting, I surprise them by hugging them from behind. “I can start walking with no crutches!”

  “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful news!” My dad hugs me.

  “That’s great! Let’s go celebrate,” my mom says as we wrap our arms around each other and walk out of the hospital. “Ice cream’s on me!”

  ***

  As I sit at my computer after a day out with Mom and Dad, I look at that game I always play and how much it has helped me cope with the reality of my life as it is. But I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I might not be able to dance again the way I used to. Life isn’t always straightforward or clear. Sometimes, you have to be sidetracked in order to find out what’s most important to you.

  In this case, it turned out I put my happiness on the backburner. Traded my love of books, games, and writing for a career in an outfit that didn’t fit me. And even though I always have and still adore dancing, it will never become a bigger part of me than all those other things I adore so much.

  Since accepting this fact, I’ve started writing like crazy, churning out books as fast as lightning. I can’t even keep up with my own word count, and watching the worlds I create coming to life on paper continue to amaze me.

  It’s not just in my head anymore.

  It’s as real as my desire to publish them. Well, not now, as I still need to learn many tricks.

  But one day, for sure.

  One day, I’m going to be a famous author, just as I promised Alex.

  I may not be as famous as J.K. Rowling … but I’ll take a number two.

  It’s funny to think about it … that I started finishing the stories I started because of him.

  He caused me to look at myself and learn to love myself for who I really am.

  He caused me to miss him more than I’ve ever missed my family or my best friend, and to this day, it aches that he isn’t around. Sometimes, I even have mini-breakdowns, but I try to push past them as quickly as I can because I know it’s not worth feeling them. I know now that everything will be okay, despite what happens to me. Despite what happens to him. Life will go on.

  He caused me to see the world in a different light.

  He caused many things in me. Both good and bad, I don’t deny that. They’re a part of me, just as much as he is part of me, and I am part of him.

  At least … I hope.

  I haven’t seen him or even spoken to him in a while. Not since last time on the bridge. Neither of us has. Not an email. Not on our game. Not a call. Not a text. Not even a letter. Nothing.

  I suppose it was a sort of silent promise we made to each other.

  We won’t speak a word until all is well. Until we’re both ready to face each other.

  I just know he thought the same. I could feel it when he looked at me the way he did when he walked away.

  One day, we’ll meet without all the pressure, without the guilt, without the pain, without the past. One day, I’ll see him again … and then we’ll finally be who we want to be.

  How do I know? No particular reason. Some things in life, you just know, and this is one of them.

  ***

  Alexander

  Days later

  “Tell me what you wrote down, Alex,” my psychiatrist says.

  I shift positions in the chair. “Just what we talked about yesterday. About life and what I’d like to get out of it.”

  “And …?”

  “Well, I just want to be happy, I suppose.”

  “What is happiness to you?”

  “Hmm …” I think about it for a second. “If I can live my life to the fullest, without regrets and without looking back at the things I’ve done or said before.”

  She smiles. “I like that. Do you still feel empty, like you said a few months ago?”

  “No … I used to, but now that I think of it, not anymore. I feel like a weight has lifted off me since I started talking to you.”

  “Good. I’m glad things are changing. “So tell me … do you think you’re ready for it?”

  “For what? Life?”

  She lowers her glasses. “Yeah.”

  I think about my life, my past, my present. My future.

  I think about the bullying, my dad. Her.

  That moment on the bridge.

  Something in me broke that day.

  After having been dealt so many blows, a guy is set to fall. That’s the law of the world.

  Depression does something strange to people. It changes them … makes them do irrational things they wouldn’t normally consider.

  I was like that, once.

  It was no easy feat admitting I was wrong. Wrong for thinking I needed to fix everything in order to be able to live. But now I know that being damaged is okay. The scars we carry shape us into humans that better understand the world and those living around us.

  I’ve had plenty of time to think about my life and what I’m doing. And I’ve had plenty of time to think about her … and what I did to her. What we did together.

  She … she’s something different. Someone who doesn’t live by the rules. She makes her own.

  Because of her, I realized there is more than just guilt and repentance. More than love and hate. There are an infinite number of shades in between, all of them as valid and as important to life.

  Our hues were different in the beginning, but now, we’ve grown to complement each other.

  At least, that’s what I hope, once I see her again.

  And I know for a fact that ‘once’ will be someday very soon.

  But for now, I’m working toward that moment … when I can finally say I’m happy again. And I feel deep down in my heart that it’s so close; I know it won’t be long.

  And then I’ll finally make her proud.

  Epilogue

  Alexander

  After

  I sit down on the bench under the trees and grab my laptop from my bag, opening it up to start my game. I’m only going to log in to check on a few things, not to battle monsters. The internet connection isn’t good enough for that anyway here at the hospital. Not that I have time for it—I’m supposed to help a patient get to her room in about twenty minutes.

  Still, it’s enough time to enjoy the sunny day in a relaxing spot. Plus, I’ve got some Starbucks coffee and a great smile. It’s all I need for a good day.

  My psychiatrist actually suggested I continue to volunteer here, to keep me feeling positive about my role in the world. She was right … It helps to keep me on the right path. Honestly, I’m in a great spot now, a
nd I don’t mean physically. I finally feel like I belong. Like I can matter to someone, even if they don’t really get to know me. Just being able to help people gives me such a boost to my confidence. And it’s a good way to build up my resume.

  Not that it’s needed anymore because two days ago, I was accepted for my very first job at a local contractor. I’ll only be taking calls from clients and penning in work for the builders, but it’s a start, and I feel great about it. Now, I finally have a chance to prove my worth, maybe even show them a drawing or two of mine.

  But for now, I’ll settle for playing a game for a few minutes before I need to get to work.

  As I log in, a few notices pop up on my screen, but I ignore them. I just want to have a quick break without interruptions.

  With the exception of perhaps one.

  Because when my eyes briefly glance over the edge of the laptop at the sight of a short-legged girl in a bright red dress walking my way with crutches, they can’t stop looking.

  I gaze at the girl with the dark blond hair, which slowly drifts in the wind as I close my laptop slowly. I can’t believe she’s here. Is this real? How did she even find me?

  But then I remember the popups and something about my location being tracked by Facebook or Instagram. And her always being aware of where I was, when I went to the bridge, even though I never told her.

  Every time I log in to my laptop or phone and go online … she knows.

  And she found me.

  I put my laptop aside and stand up as her lips curl up into a smile.

  She’s so beautiful; it still amazes me every damn time I see her. Every time feels like the first time. And she’s even more beautiful when I realize I’m a better man because of her.

  She places her crutches in front of her and stops right in front of the small opening to the little garden I’m sitting in, her toes touching the grass. Our eyes meet and it feels like we’ve been watching each other for the longest time. The same trees we once danced under now stand between us. But they won’t hold her back.