It was hard to be close to him. I couldn’t even turn around to
pass back papers the teacher handed out during class; Rhoslyn had to do it for
me. The teacher suspected nothing more than a fight from us. I mean, who would?
Even the teachers thought we were going to be the couple that actually makes it
after high school. The thought of looking into his eyes again pierced through
me and I squeezed mine shut. No matter how hard I tried, I saw him and us and
everything that had slipped through my fingers. My heart clenched, and I
winced; the pain was unbearable. Class seemed to drag on forever. We discussed
the background of the play we would soon be reading and analyzing to prepare
for the AP test in the spring. She seemed to give out more papers that
particular day than any other before or after. Maybe it was just my
imagination.
Finally, the bell rang for vocational, and
half of our class migrated out the door for lunch. It was awkward to say the
least. Even though Cain had told me I could still sit at the table with them, I
felt like I just couldn’t take it. They were his friends - our friends – but I
just couldn’t face them today. He wouldn’t welcome me with a smile like he
always had, or rest his hand on my leg as we joked around. We wouldn’t give
each other bites of food or steal parts of the other’s meal. We would never
share that again.
I thought about when I came running
outside to the picnic table and smacked right into his back as a surprise and
made him drop his sandwich into his lap mayo-side down. He gave me his cute
little pouty face, but just shrugged it off and smiled back at my shocked face.
I felt so horrible for ruining his sandwich… And his pants. We were like that-
totally off the wall. Everyone said our relationship was like a comedy, and it
really was. We usually had some sort of interesting conversation going on in
homeroom and most of the time we ended up having a mock debate over it. Our
comments and exchanges entertained those around us as well as ourselves. I
really needed to just let him go, but it was a lot easier said than done. I
didn’t want to lose the best friend I had had in him.
Everything reminded me of another
memory we shared. It made me wonder if he ever noticed these things like I did,
or if he even thought about me at all. He
probably didn’t, the words protruded my thoughts and suddenly consumed me.
From the looks of it, he was having a much better time without me. How could I
have been so happy with someone who hadn’t felt the same? Maybe my feelings
were stronger, maybe I gave a little more, or maybe I was just too blind to see
what had been clearly laid out in front of me. Would he ever smile at me again?
Would he ever be happy around me? I couldn’t just cut him out of my life. No
matter how much he hurt me, how deep this wounded my heart, or how much I
wanted to be with him. I still loved him with every last piece of my
brokenness.
After lunch, everyone loaded onto
the buses that would take us to the vocational school. I sat in the seat behind
the bus driver, alone. He had told me we could still sit together on the bus,
but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I leaned my head against the glass, and
my eyes slowly drooped- it felt like I hadn’t slept in years. When I awoke we
were pulling into the parking lot, and the bus skidded to a halt. I gathered
all my things and made sure I was the first person off the bus. I wanted to put
as much distance between him and I as possible. The door swung open as I walked
into class. People sat around in groups and talked, waiting for the bell to
ring and class to begin. I clumsily stumbled my way to my seat next to Lorilai.
Everyone looked at me expectantly. They knew I never acted like this. Mr.
Weymouth caught my eye and asked, “Clarissa, are you alright?”
I nodded even though I felt more
tears, “I’m fine.”
He pursed his lips and then left the
room. Lorilai asked me what happened, and I repeated the story for what felt
like the millionth time today. Mr. Weymouth returned within five minutes and we
started our in-class assignments. The door creaked open, and Mrs. Tawny, the
school’s student coordinator, walked in. I figured she was here to talk to our
resident skank, but instead she appeared at my side.
“Clarissa, would you like to come to
my office?” Her voice was soft and warm, but still made me feel as if I didn’t have
any other choice except to join her.
I hesitated for a moment in doubt
until I finally replied, “Sure.”
I spent most of class in her office explaining myself to her. She didn’t
ask many questions, but apparently my teacher had expressed concern about my
behavior because it was so out of the ordinary. And they were right. I was
depressed. Not the depressed that people usually use as an adjective to
describe their feelings- I really was. I knew this feeling all too well. After
experiencing such an emotional loss with this relationship, I had slipped back
into my old ways so quickly.
When you can't escape
the demons that live in your dreams, the things that haunt you from the past,
the things you thought you'd let go, it consumes you- heart and soul, mind and
body. Your life becomes a shadow. You wilt and become an empty husk of a
person. Your eyes grow dull. Your feelings become so twisted and distorted that
you just stop having them altogether- numbness sets in. You accept this as the
‘new normal’ – your ‘new happiness’. You convince yourself that this is okay;
that not feeling anything anymore is a good thing because it means you’ve let
go. But it isn’t. Your brain feeds you this lie until you believe it- and I
mean really believe it. If you don’t
realize that this has happened… You become nothing. Empty. Lost. Forgotten. You
never really return.this as the 'new normal'- your 'new happiness'. You
convince yourself that this is okay. That not feeling anymore is a good thing
because you've let go. But it isn't. Your brain feeds you this lie until you
believe it. And if you don't realize that it has happened... You become nothing.
Empty. Lost. Forgotten. You never really return
Before we had
started dating, my life had seemed like a lie. My outside exuded confidence and
happiness, but what lay beneath the surface was a cracked and deserted
interior. He loved the happiness he saw in me, and that was all I ever wanted
to share with him, but he noticed what was inside me, and I told him everything
that made me who I was. I told him about my past so dark and hated; and all the
nightmares and destruction it had caused me over the years. I was afraid it
would be too much baggage for him, but he carried it all and then some. I never
had to pretend with him. I was always happy.
After a while, the nightmares disappeared, and
the desert that was once inside me became a blossoming utopia. He watered it
religiously every day with love and affection that never felt anything but natural.
Cain had healed my heart without ever being asked, and I had done the same for
him. There are so many things we worked through together that seemed so
stressful at the time - his relapse into his pot addiction, problems with his
family, and jealousy - but after every trial, we would finish the race strong
and a leg ahead. I guess that it wasn’t always true. It wouldn’t be that way this
time. We weren’t just broken; we were completely ripped apart. Everybody saw
the tears, but nobody knew how my heart felt. Nobody knew how connected we had
been or the memories we shared. They only saw what was on the outside – the
things that we all choose to show the world. Nobody knew what was on the inside,
and they never would.
No comments:
Post a Comment