Everything is Green

Chapter 2

And there it is. The conversation you have been trying your best to avoid. The person you've been ignoring for months now. The situation you ran away from. The life you left behind without saying goodbye. Three simple text messages brings it all back. All the pain you went through, the countless nights full of tears, the many days you spent exhausting yourself in attempt to simply keep breathing.

As you stare at her name on your screen with your thumbs hovering over the letters of the keyboard, you can't decide which ones to press first. You can always go with the obvious answer, "fuck you", but you just know that will start an argument you have no energy for anymore. Then you start to think maybe you should just be honest, explain the situation, tell her everything. But, again, that would start yet another conversation you just can't engage in. Plus, why give her that luxury? After everything she put you through, she deserves this confusion.

You type out a few half hearted responses, as you always do when she texts you these days, but decide to delete them and do the only thing you seem to be good at right now, ignore her and the inevitable pain she brings along with her anywhere she goes. You lock your phone, throw it on your pillow, and finally place both feet on the cold concrete floor for the first time today. As you make your way to the bathroom your brain can't help but to be occupied by her texts. Why is she at your house to even see the for sale sign? She hasn't been there in months. Why does she care if you moved? She left you 6 months ago, for a man. A man.

You spent the majority of your youth madly in love with Audrey. She was your first love, your first real relationship, the person you came out for, the person who you agreed to spend the rest of your life with in front of everyone who meant anything to you. You met in high school when you were 15, started dating in college  when you were 18, got engaged at 22, and finally married at 24. You were happy, you finally found someone who agreed to love you until the end of this life time, or so you thought.

Three days after your 25th birthday, Audrey didn't come home. At first you were worried. You called and texted more times than you're proud of. You even reached out to her family and friends to see if they've heard from her. You received the same response as you got from Audrey, silence. It was as if everyone knew except you. You drove to her job to see if you could find her car, no luck. You started to accept the fact that she was avoiding you. You racked your brain to find any reason for her sudden disappearance. Did you do something to make her mad? Did you say something to upset her? The thoughts kept coming and kept getting worse and worse. Was it the way you looked? Dressed? Talked? Did she not find you funny anymore? Or interesting? Did she find someone better?

The second and third day of Audrey's disappearance were the same. You called way too many times. You texted even more, begging her to just come home and talk to you. The silence you received as a response was deafening. On the fourth day, you heard keys jingle on the other side of your front door, followed by the sound of a key being shoved quickly into the deadbolt. The door unlocked and swung open. You quickly turned to face the person barging into your house, your mind racing a mile a minute, you were fully prepared for your heart to break. But, you being you, you knew you would forgive her for whatever she did. You just wanted her home. Till death do us part, right?

Apparently wrong. Audrey walked into the house and never met your eyes. You stood directly in front of her, mindlessly playing with the hem of your shirt. She walked right past you. Didn't say a word. As she sped walked to your shared bedroom, you instantly followed. By the time you caught up with her, her back was facing you. She was frantically stuffing her belongings into a large duffel bag you didn't notice when she first walked in. You stood in the door way, internally screaming at yourself to say something.