Hopeless

XX

"We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon." – Franklin D. Roosevelt

The following night was supremely unsettling for me. The idea of moving back to England kept twirling inside my brain leaving me with only two hours of good night's sleep. In the morning Dylan and Hannah came to the hospital, packed my things and drove me to my aunt's apartment; in the afternoon, we went to Gloria's funeral.

A lot of people came to say their last goodbye to my dear Gloria and I was not surprised in the least. She was a very lovely and kind person, too much for her own good and it would be a crime not to completely adore that woman. I went near the casket last, almost shaking from the overwhelming feeling of loss that devoured me. I desired to speak to her, tell her about all the wonderful things she had done for me and how grateful I was to have had her in my life all those years. But I could not bring myself to say anything remotely similar than that; only a few sobs escaped my mouth and a whisper of the words 'I am sorry'. The rest of the night I spent at Hannah's apartment, silently crying myself to sleep for all those who I had lost and with whom I would never be able to speak again.

It was early in the morning when my brother appeared at Hannah's apartment to take me home. I hugged Hannah goodbye and we drove to my aunt's without speaking a word to each other. I was definitely aware of Dylan's constant stare to my direction, checking on me every few seconds. I knew he wanted me to give him an answer; an answer I did not have myself.

'I see you have not finished writing that letter, eh?' His soft voice strikes me out of my writing bliss. Walking inside, without asking for permission may I add, he takes a seat on the armchair aside from my desk and leans back, sipping his coffee.

'As you can see,' I wave the papers in front of his face making him laugh, 'I am clearly not done with it. Really close to doing so though, so if you are kind enough, get your pretty butt off my armchair and out of my room.' I tell him, trying to fake an annoyed voice, but when he looks at me, I cannot help but smile as he smiles back.

He gets up from the purple chair and walks to stand right behind me, leaning his head next to mine to read the pages in front of him. 'My name's not there.' He observes loudly and I shake my head. 'I thought that letter was about you and I. Didn't Katerina ask you to write about our story?'

'Not quite.'

The luxurious, fancy apartment that owned my once loved aunt, was empty of her presence once we arrived. I looked around at every corner of the house, every small or large decoration she had placed on the furniture and I felt nothing but a dull emptiness about the space. Nothing meant something to me; they were all just silver and gold objects in an apartment that I wanted to escape from every single day I woke up in.

I walked outside on the balcony and took a look at New York City; a city that had brought to me nothing more than pure misery during the time I thought I wasted there. I stared at the lifeless building rising in front of me and wondered; why am I still here? Fascinating it is that, even after numerous reasons appeared in my head once I asked myself that question, I still managed to convince my heart that I needed to leave that city immediately. Going back inside with a small smile on my face and ready to announce to Dylan my decision, I found him observing the framed pictures that my aunt had placed on top of a glass buffet furniture. I walked closer to him as he picked one of the frames to observe it in detail.