Jourdan Mathews has a secret, and she knows she needs to take this one to the grave.
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Her life was never complicated: a college student with a close family, good friends, and a plan for her future as a doctor. Had that night had never happened...
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the present // the past
My relationship with Miles' mom has always been a source of anxiety for me.
Even before we started dating, I felt that she was looking at me that way. As a potential girlfriend for her beloved son. The two of them were one and the same when it came to idealizing me. I'd always thought she had me on this pedestal, one where I am this smarter, prettier, more well-rounded version of myself- a version of myself that I know I'll never be. And so, when we started dating for real, I'd be a mess of nerves whenever she came to visit us.
Miles was good at calming me down back then. Reassuring me that his mom, Susan, loved me like I was her own daughter and that I more than fulfilled her idea of the perfect partner for her son.
That idea used to comfort me.
Now, it makes me feel so guilty that I think I might turn over and vomit out the side of the booth we are all currently sitting in. When I told Ryder I had dinner plans with my mom this morning, I left out the part where it's dinner with my mom and Miles' mom. A chance for us all to catch up, a chance for my mom to get Susan out of the house, a chance for me to be reminded of all the shit in my past that I'd thought I'd escaped for one blissful day yesterday.
This guilt stems from the secret I'd sworn to always keep to myself. That I didn't love Miles at the end, not the way you're supposed to. I couldn't. Not when he'd become a person who made me so miserable for trying to help him.
It makes me want to cry, sat across from Susan now as she prattles on about how she often reminisces coming to visit. About how Miles and I used to bring her so much joy.
"And do you remember that time when he surprised us both with tickets to that Red Rocks concert?" She continues, bringing up old memories from our sophomore year. "A double date with his father and I, and you two."
"Oh yeah," I nod, picking up my glass of water and taking a long sip. "Yeah, that was a fun concert."
"Miles always thought of the best surprises." My mother muses, smiling at Susan, expression somewhat relieved. Like she is just glad that Susan can talk about her son now without breaking down.
Of course, all we ever talk about is how great he was to me, to her and his father, even to my parents. We never mention what his addiction made him become. And these days, that's all I can remember.
Maybe it's because I never got a chance to express it while he was alive. Maybe it's because I feel partially responsible. That I didn't do enough to help him. But at the end, I literally wasn't sure what else to do.
I tried talking with him, talking with his mom, suggesting rehab or therapy, offering to support him however he needed. And when the only response I got from him was anger or defiance, I gave up in some small way.
