“I am not going to pretend you’re not breaking my heart,” I say in a shattered voice and a single tear manages to escape my eye.
His eyes soften, but the dejected tone in them stays. “I am not going to pretend you’re not breaking mine,” his voice rasps out raw with vulnerability, layered with despair, just like mine.
I watch him as he rises to stand. I watch him as he gives the boxes at his feet another gaze that ends with a wince. I watch him in silence as he closes the distance between us. A step away, his eyes skim over me, and I hold my breath. He leans in to leave a gentle kiss on my forehead and envelops me in his arms. I liquefy into his embrace, burying my face in his chest, taking in his Sebastian scent and indulge in the warmth he induces in me. Fearing it’s the last time I’ll feel this secure, this loved.
For some long minutes, we hug each other tight as though holding on to each other for some stolen moments and not letting the impending final good-bye separate us.
“I love you, Liv,” Sebastian whispers, and his lips find mine.
Although my heart that’s in my throat makes it hard for me to breathe, I drown in his kiss. Closing my eyes over warm tears, I kiss him back with everything I have.
We finally ease back after long beats of desperate kisses. Final kisses, kisses of our end. Our eyes are locked in unbearable despair when Sebastian tells me, once more, that he loves me.
“I love you, too,” I whisper while his fingers slowly unthread from mine. I follow him with my stare as he walks to the door. And when it closes behind him, I melt to the floor amid the boxes that hold my unwanted future, the tears coming freely.
Chapter 28
“Doesn’t Mean Good-bye”
Jon McLaughlin
There’s an incessant ache at the pit of my leaden heart that I’ve been nursing since our “breakup.” Be it as it may, I’m not certain “breakup” would be the best terminology for our last encounter. For we’ve never really ceased to be a whole. He’ll forever remain a part of me. As he walked out my door, I buried him in my heart. I knew that any other option would be a deceitful one, to myself. I knew back then, just as I know, full well, right now, that I’m not capable of making myself forget him, nor am I willing to. Even though not many days have passed since I last saw him and told him that I loved him, and let him go. Though not many days have passed since we wordlessly agreed to part ways, my thoughts of him, of how I feel, won’t wane. Feelings that make me think of the Welsh word “hiraeth.” A word my beloved late grandma used to express her longings and memories of her homeland. It has no exact cognate in the English language, the closest meaning would be “homesickness,” but it’s so much more. It’s wistfulness, yearning, a bond for a home you can’t return to, or one that never really existed. It may be about a ferocious longing and connection to a place, but the allegory to how I feel about Sebastian couldn’t be more fitting. Bond and ferocious longing, ones that consume you.
The irony is not lost on me no matter how hard it is to gulp down. The one person I thought would help me make the right decision, maybe make the decision for me, the decision I’ve subconsciously wanted to make, was the one who actually pushed me to realize I’ve been living in some sort of a rose-tinted fantasy. The person who made me wrap up in the feeling is the same one who shook me well enough to land flat into cold reality. Cold enough to make me realize that there is no such thing as real-life fairy tales. When it comes down to pragmatism, Prince Charming doesn’t swipe you away to a happily ever after, he tells you – you should find one on your own.
Yes, the verdict has been rendered. Thanks to my own Prince Charming, I’m returning home, early. Great as it was, it seems like my journey has come to an end. If I extend this escapade any longer, I’m not sure my heart will be resilient enough to resist cracking and maybe even shattering, to never be repaired again.
I’m not the kind of person who, though she can, will live a life of pure leisure. I’m a doer. And it’s time I got back to the real world, back to doing. Get a job, do the grown-up thing once again after this long, perfect break. I haven’t found out what it is that I want to do yet, but I’m sure that the probability of ultimately finding it is not where I am right now.
I jot down a short to-do list right after changing my flight back home to a week from today. The thing that eats at me the most, besides the impending departure, is delivering the news to my friends. Telling the girls that I’ve decided to go back home. Saying good-bye is not something I know how to do, or cope with. Especially given the pang in my heart, this new feeling for me each time I think about it. But I have to, and the sooner, the better. Just like I should tell my parents I’m coming back. Just like I should let Kai know.
Kai.
With the thought of my return, the thought of his proposal arises. My answer to his offer is clear to me, clearer than anything. No. At least, not right now. I can’t think of, or want, anyone else if I can’t have Sebastian. Not even Kai.
Before drowning deeper in my deep contemplation pool, I text the girls, asking if they are up for a spontaneous get-together. I’d be lying if I said I was glad at the immediate consent coming from all of them. My reaction is more in the vein of a sudden dread, particularly with the farewell I’m about to bid.
. . .
“Oh, this little break is a blessing. I really needed a break. Thanks, Liv,” Alma says, rubbing the nape of her neck while stretching it from side to side. “I swear, the closer we get to the wedding the more setbacks seem to be popping up out of nowhere. It’s as if the entire universe has conspired to wear me down before the big day.”
“Dzey stopped producing dze nail polish shade you’ve always dreamed of for your big day?”
The rest of the ladies snort animatedly, but I don’t. I don’t have it in me. I’m too strung up to appreciate Dominique’s snarks.
“You bet your sweet little hiney the shopping tour we have planned for next week will be pure-freaking-joy,” Embar assures Alma and dives her mouth to close around the thick straw in her iced-coffee.
Alma sends Embar a smile and Vivian regards them both with a little motion of her chin. “Barcelona?”
It amazes me how only hearing the name of the city is a blow to my stomach. I close my eyes for the shortest beat and Sebastian’s face burns before my eyelids – the way he looked at me, close and so intimate, during the concert.
Alma shakes her head. “Madrid. Shoes and bridesmaid’s dresses.”
They continue discussing everything wedding preparations, including the fact that Vivian will be orchestrating the food part. Her baptism of fire for her solo catering venture. Dominique, amid frequent concerned glances my way, can’t refrain from engaging Alma in a little saucy banter about her army of bridesmaids, which consists of Embar, aka the BFF, Stephy, and Alma’s six sisters. I fight to stay afloat and focused, alas, little by little, I dive into the sea of disquiet that is my mind.
“Liv?” Vivian’s voice finally manages to penetrate my introspection.
I lift my head to meet five pair of troubled eyes boring into me. I take a breath that doesn’t manage to reach all the way through and divulge on an exhale. “I’m leaving in a week.”
“Leaving?” Stephy asks and sends a glance to the rest of our friends.
“Going back home.”
“For a visit?”
I shake my head and the oxygen in my lungs becomes even more diluted. “I’m going back.” I swear Dominique’s eyes have just glazed over, a notion that brings my own eyes to moisten.
“No,” Stephy says, sounding a tad like a petulant child. But it’s sweet and touching, and presses hard on my chest.
A choir of voices comes my way in varied sets of questions.
“Anyhow, I have just a couple of months left, and I thought I might start hunting for a job earlier. You know, get started on putting my real life back together.”
Vivian and Dominique exchange loaded glances and turn to look my way in unconcealed bewilderment.
/> “What about Sebastian?” Stephy says, her expression manifesting the gloominess that has descended on the room.
Dominique narrows her eyes at me, and Vivian raises an eyebrow, both waiting. My instinct is to brush it off with a silly “what about him?” reply, but I owe them more than this. They are my friends. My close friends. Some closer, some less, nonetheless, I love them all.
“We broke up, I think.”
“You think?” Alma regards me with a creased forehead.
And another solicitous glance is traded between Vivian and Dominique.
“You can say we came to a mutual understanding that there isn’t really a future for us given we live on two different continents.”
“Who says you ought to go back?” Dominique challenges me with a look that’s equal measure pissed and sad.
“I came here for an extended vacation, for a good time, but it’s time I got back. I never intended to stay forever.” A flint, bitter smile accompanies the last part.
“He didn’t ask you to stay?” Though her voice is almost a whisper, I still hear it clear and sharp, and painful. So does the rest of the group. We all pivot Vivian’s way.
“No, he did not. But even if he would have, it wouldn’t change anything, I guess. Come on, what would I possibly do here long term? There’s just so much strolling on the beach and having good food one can allow oneself without turning into a spoiled bum.”
“You could be doing anything you’d be doing there, here,” Vivian counters.
“Only you’d be much happier,” Dominique completes Vivian’s words.
“I can’t believe you won’t be in my wedding,” Alma says. Her words carry no spite, they are more of a blue recognition, symbolically so, echoing the expression on each of our faces. Right after her declaration, Alma rises to stand and walks over to me. She wraps her arms around me and I almost choke on the swell in my throat. The embrace becomes tighter when Stephy joins, and Embar. And I can barely hold my tears in check when Vivian and Dominique join them. It’s unclear to me how long we stand like this, holding each other in our circle of firm bond, but it’s enough to tell just how much they all mean to me, and I to them.
Chapter 29
“Every Teardrop is a Waterfall”
Coldplay
“Scarlet, seriously, only if you’re hundred and two percent sure. Are you?” Kai’s soothing voice asks me over the phone.
“Well, I’ve been stewing over this to no end, believe me. And what can I say, when it comes down to weighing my possibilities, even though I had the best of times here, if I take language, job opportunities, family, and basically everything real life into consideration, I just know that the sensible thing to do is come back home. It started off as a dream and apparently so ends as such.” A dream I had. A dream I lived. A dream that will soon become my most cherished memory.
The sound of a long puff comes from his side, followed by a raspy, “It’s your mom I hear talking through your voice.”
“No, Kai. It’s simply logic.” My retort is contempt crusted. He should know better than to compare me to her.
“Look, whatever you decide to do, I’m with you. Of course, I want you to come back, but mostly, I want you to do whatever is best for you.”
“I adore you, Kai.” For some moments, after ending the call, I soak in the small comfort of having Kai to hold on to when I get back home. For I know, in any aspect of it, my return won’t be an easy feat. To be putting it mildly.
Just when I wish for time to still, it slips through my fingers like grains of sand. The clock is ticking, and with every tick, my departure is nearing. But it’s time. Time to let a dream stay where a dream belongs – a fantasy in the woods of my mind. I have lived my own private dream, and it is time for me to move on.
I slide the phone onto the kitchen counter and resume labeling the last of the packed boxes with color-coded stickers, making sure the list in my hand correlates to the number on each box. I have a sudden urge to talk to a certain diamond pattern, mustard sweater, hair slicked to the side, head healer. On second thought, that might just add to my agitation.
The song in the background is literally slicing through my belly with each word. But I keep on listening because somehow it expresses with its beautiful lyrics the thoughts swimming in my head, the thoughts of Sebastian. A song about letting go of someone you love.
Pressing a red sticker on another box, a motorcycle’s hum coming from outside my door stills me.
Can’t be.
I try to shrug it off with the simple excuse that there are more than a few bike owners in Serenidad and that it doesn’t necessarily have to be the one haunting my every waking moment. I can feel my heartbeat below my ear drumming when the sound grows louder. When it thins down right by my porch, my pulse becomes palpable and frantic. I hug myself, waiting. Anxious and wistful. In tandem to a knock on my door, my phone chimes, breaking my edgy anticipation. I peer over at the screen and press end on Dominique. She can wait, my heart cannot.
My lungs detain my breath as I make my way toward the door. A determined knock later, I finally reach it. For a stretched moment, our eyes converse in loaded silence. The singer in the background is crooning in a velvety voice, “Just ‘cause I told you that it was over that doesn't mean I don't need you by my side,” in perfect harmony to our soulful eye-lock. As though articulating what my eyes are telling the man in front of me. The man with the white button-down and dark jeans. The man with the solemn expression.
The space between his brows puckers as Sebastian’s eyes trail over me and creases some more as he seems to be choosing his words. I clasp my hands together, too tense, not sure what to do next. Though I try very hard to avoid the bubble of hope making its way up inside of me, I still can’t help but wish with all my heart that he is here to ask me not to leave. And I know full well that I would, without a second thought, do as he asks. If he only asked.
“Liv,” he says my name, and it’s enough to make me miss a beat.
“Yes.” A soft whisper. I get distracted by the motion of his hand and follow it closely with my gaze as it reaches mine and squeezes it gently. With my gaze still rested on our joint hands, I fail to hear the first time he tells me something about a hospital. Entirely focused on the moment, inwardly wishing to hear him say something completely different, it takes me some extra seconds to fully comprehend what he just told me.
“She’s in the ER; they mentioned something about her heart. A heart attack. I thought . . .” He inhales. “I thought you’d better hear it from me.”
“Vivian had a heart attack?” My eyes rip open and my free hand jolts to cover my mouth.
Sebastian nods. “Come, I’ll take you there.”
I’m static; swimming in wild waters of confusion till Sebastian secures my hand tighter in his and gestures for me to follow. Before turning to the door, his stare falls on the packed boxes lined on the floor and I can’t help cringing at the brief somberness that’s obscuring his features. My attention trains on Sebastian’s back as I follow him to the bike, and all I can do, besides worry about my friend, is think he is not here for me.
On the way to the hospital, I let myself cling to the comfort and rightness of being wrapped around Sebastian’s strong, wide frame, his scent, and the warmth he induces in me and on me. Nothing feels more right than having him this close.
. . .
“I tried to ca –” The rest of Dominique’s sentence is kept held back when she notices Sebastian by my side. “Sebastian.” She nods at him. “I’ll wait dzere.” She gestures to a row of teal-blue plastic chairs that have undoubtedly seen better days.
“I got to get back to work.” Sebastian commences our second and probably last good-bye.
“Thank you,” I say through a blocked throat.
He nods, and his eyes flutter closed in affirmation. “When do you leave?”
“In three days.”
He sends his hand to the hollow below my chin. His thumb slowly trac
es my jaw while his eyes skim my own. He takes a breath that to my ears sounds rueful, and leans forward to leave a supple kiss on my lips. “Take care.”
I reach for his hand that still holds my face and bring his palm to my lips. I press my lips onto his skin, breathing him in. God, this hurts so much. He inches closer and envelops me with his free hand. He leans his chin on the crown of my head and dips to kiss the same spot. I feel his body easing away from me and I want to argue, plead for him not to let me go.
“Good-bye, Liv.” Another soft kiss and he leaves me for the very last time.
It’s a blur, how much time has passed before Vivian is finally transferred to the CCU, and we are allowed to see her. We’ve been sitting in the waiting room, waiting in silence. In nail-biting silence, for what feels like a lifetime.
A unified sigh of relief leaves our mouths to the sight of a paler version of our vibrant friend, recumbent on a high bed. The relief factor is due to the faint smile she beams at us, weak and colorless, but nonetheless, still a smile. We stand next to Vivian’s bed and rain unrelenting phrases of wellbeing and scolding of welfare at her. Vivian, wearing a calm and patient grin, waits for us to let it all out.
“I’m fine. We caught it in time. It was a minor thing. No one will be reading my will anytime soon.”
I shake my head, and Dominique throws her eyes to the white ceiling.
“Now, can you please take a seat?”
I do as told.
“Both of you.” Vivian pins Dominique with a look.
“Pfff…” It’s the sound of Dominique succumbing. I’m not able to lessen the smile forming on my lips. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Dominique actually acquiesce so easily, or at all, for that matter.
“You need to take it easy,” I say with genuine concern.
Vivian’s exhale carries frustration. “It came at the worst time. There is so much going on; I can’t allow myself to take it easy.”
Leaving Me Behind Page 23
