The Best of Her

Chapter Forty

Mavis.

It could be worst. I could be addicted to drugs again.

I hate the smell of cigarettes, and I sting from it right now, But some situations require horrid solutions. I wanted a blunt but I can't risk contacting my dealer, what if I see him there?  God, it hurts so much, so bad. Just a single thought of him and I'm already seeing his smile, hearing his laugh, and tasting his lips all over again.

His face, when I left, will forever be engraved in my head. As a tattoo, it's permanent. But I had to do it. I couldn't stay and ruin his life, I already live with enough burden of ruining people's life. He deserves someone worthy of him, who is willing to improve and be a better person. And no matter how much I lie to myself, I feel like I could never be that person for him.

I've always been scared of failure, even though it has always been my role since I was born. My parents are high-end surgeons, my grandparents strive in their old money and don't even let me talk about my snob uncle and his family. Thank God my dad isn't that close with them, they hate my mother for some reason. We already know about my brothers, so I the youngest Spencer was born to end the bloodline of success.

I mean someone had to do it.

"Going through heartache?" I hadn't noticed the old woman sitting next to me on the bench. I was too engrossed with my thoughts, I hadn't even noticed the tears. I was crying again. I'm so tired of this. June had unlocked the lock of my tears and now they won't stop.

I guess going to a park to grieve wasn't a good choice, but I had to go out. I felt like I couldn't breathe inside my room, I still see him on my bed, I still feel my lips against his skin. This is torture.

"You could talk to me, it might help," her sweet old voice rang me back to reality before I could sink too deep into my thoughts. I look at her, a small frail looking woman, with tan wrinkled skin and a pair of blue eyes that hadn't aged yet. Something about them made her look younger, childlike. "Grandma if I talked, I would scare you,"

A gentle smile adorned her thin lips, "I'm tougher than I look,"

I pressed the end of the cigarette to my lips and then exhaled the other way to not send smoke her way. She was eyeing it, and I was waiting to hear about how it was going to kill me and shit like that. I rarely smoke cigarettes, like I said I hate the smoke and don't want to catch cancer. I wanna die an easier way, maybe with a bullet through the head, or poison. Not because of a silly stick.

"Do you have another one?" My mouth hangs open, and she chuckles at my shocked reaction. "I haven't smoked in a few years, but you look like you need a partner,"

Look at me. I'm even a bad influence on grandmas. But I hand her a cigarette and a lighter nonetheless. And damn, she is a pro. She inhales the smoke without a cough. "You've been a smoker?"

"Yes, but I quit. You should too, a cigarette once in a while doesn't kill but the daily ones do," she advised, and I don't why but I smile. Something is odd about this woman, but I like her. It's surprising, I'm usually such a bitch when I'm in a destructive mindset.

"I'm not usually a cigarette smoker, but I didn't have anything else."

She glances at me, and nods but doesn't turn away. She studies me, staring long and hard into my profile. "You're a pretty girl, you should be breaking hearts not the other way around." I slowly turn to face her, my head tilted to the side. "Who said I have a broken heart?"

her lips twitch in amusement, "I know the signs, darling."

I lean on my arm, my turn to study her. Her gray was neatly styled into a short bob, she seems to even have some makeup on and her outfit was very classy nanny. There is no doubt, that Grandma was a baddie in her old days. "Were you a heartbreaker, grandma?"

She smirks, "I was, until it was my turn to be heartbroken."

"And how did you recover from that?"

Her smile faded, leaning closer she whispers, "who said anything about recovering?" oh. Well, I'm doomed. I'm going to live in pain every time he crosses my mind. I've been skipping classes, just so I limit my chances of crossing him. I don't think I could do it, it would be like stabbing myself in the heart.

"Don't look so scared, you will live." what kind of old woman is this. Isn't she supposed to reassure me and tell me how everything will be fine? That I could forget him and move on? Even my luck with strangers sucks.

"You're infuriating," throwing the cigarette on the ground, I step on it. I should have brought a hand sanitizer with me. As if she read my thoughts, she passes me one. I look at her and then at the bottle. "Tell me, how is he or how is she?"

I shake my head, cleaning my hands. "I can't talk about him, I'm tired of crying."

"Cry while you can. It's worst when you can't do it anymore." I stare into her blue eyes for a long second. For a moment I'm reminded of my dad, his eyes are cold blue. Hers are warm blue. "You're a bit morbid,"

"So are you, young woman." she retorts, "you sound lifeless, your eyes look lifeless, but yet there is something about you that is so captivating, I think you're full of life. You just don't know how to show it."

Full of life. She said that I'm me full of life. June once told me the same thing.

But I can see no life in me. I'm barely hanging on by a thread, and it's only because I don't want to put any guilt on the few people I care about. I'm not suicidal, but I do think about death sometimes. Like any human being, I wonder if I would more at peace if I were dead.

"He is beautiful." my voice always sounds hoarse when I talk about him. "The kind of beauty that only a few people radiate. And I don't know how-" a lump forms in my throat, but I gulp it down. "I don't know how to handle that kind of beautiful. It's not made for me, I would taint it."

She was quiet for a moment, hands neatly seated on her lap after she finishes her cigarette. "You broke your own heart, didn't you?"

"Are you a psychic?" I ask.

She laughs. "Not, really. Just a long life experience."

"I broke both our hearts, but it had to be done.  I thought it would hurt less now, rather than when we were really in love." I can't believe I'm sitting here, pouring my heart to a stranger because I'm that lost. I'm that hurt.

"Oh, honey," she held my hands, I was going to pull them away but they felt warm. I like warm things. My skin always felt so cold. "You are already in love with him."

No, I'm not. It couldn't have happened so fast. "No." but she was nodding yes, "only a person in love would be afraid to taint her lover because she deems herself not good enough."

I can't be in love with him. I just can't be. It's impossible. "I could hurt him. I'm impulsive and aggressive when I'm angry. I'm a mess," I looked up at her, but my vision was blurry with tears. "a horrible mess he shouldn't have to deal with."

A sob escapes my throat and I'm wailing like a baby again. Please, I want it to stop. I need it to stop. "How did you get over it?" I wipe at the tears but they keep coming, and she sooth my back. "If you didn't recover from it, how did you live with it? Because I don't think I can."

"I married him," she says. "I was a mess too. But for him, I could do what I thought was impossible."

"If he is your once in a lifetime, fight for him. Fight yourself and fight the world if you have to. Stop your pity part, and love him. Taint him if you have to but be the one who fix it." she hands me a tissue, and stroke my hair. "If he is the right one, he will stick through it all."