The Fifth Date

Chapter 30

If I had the chance to talk to someone who controlled mankind, the earth, the stars, the galaxy, the entire universe— everything, commonly referred to as the one above, I'd like to ask him a few things. One— why do people leave? Two— why does it hurt so much when they do? Three— Will it be possible for them to return? And Four— if they do, would it hurt less?

I couldn't quite comprehend how and why people enter your crappy life, turn it around, stay for a while, and leave unexpectedly. I didn't know these things were contractual and if only I did, I'd have the taken my brain with me and not sign up for these. Because when they leave, there's this hole in my chest that makes it hard for me to breath. When they leave, my eyes continuously stung with tears. When they leave, they leave with my walls in ruins, my armor broken, and my zone defenseless. I become visible to eyes I refuse to be seen. I become naked to the world I detest to be a part of. Only selfish people would do this— heartless, even. So, really, why do people leave? Why did Loisa take Benny and leave? Why did my mother sign the divorce papers and leave? Why did my father sell our house and leave? And June— just the mere thought of you widens the hole in my chest. I tried to cure the gnawing feeling in my chest with a sigh but it had little to no effect at all.

People leave. And when they do, it's going to hurt so much. People leave. And when they do, they'll take off a piece of you without notice and carry it with them. People leave. And when they do, you'd wish for them to return. People leave. And if against all odds, they return, you wouldn't know whether you'd want the piece back or pretend that piece has never even existed to begin with.

People leave. Some say it's probably out of bravery to leave everything behind and be somewhere else. Others say it's of cowardice to leave and run away from things they didn't want to see, feel, and be in. I may never know why but they do. And I have to be ready enough for it. But honestly, no one can ever be prepared. We can pretend— put on a front and lock fear, anger, and sadness away where no one can see it. Yet it is there, and if no one else can see it, you suffer the privilege of being the only one who does. You can never be prepared for something that will crash huge waves at you. You can never be prepared for something that will open up beneath you and swallow you whole into darkness. You can never be prepared for something that will push you further to the end of oblivion. There are endless possibilities, but there's a limit to how far you will know.

So when Micky took me out for a long ride this rainy morning to somewhere he wouldn't even talk about, the endless possibilities has run through miles and I couldn't put my brakes on it because as much as I'd like to drive myself through this, someone else was behind the wheel. Not me. Not Micky. Not even you. And it took me thirty-two cups of Americano and sleepless nights to recognize that it was fear. Fear of the unknown— the limit to what I know. I didn't ask Micky if this was about you because I already knew the answer. The furrowing of his brows, the dark circles under his eyes, and the disheveled brown hair told me that his two-day trip out of town turned out to be something he was not prepared for. This ultimately heightened the fear in me. The painful gnawing in my chest has gone worse and I willed myself to try to rein my tears back before it completely takes over me.

The silence was deafening. None of us dared to speak. Not even the stereo was turned on. The tension building up inside the car could break the unbreakable. I knew both of us could feel it but we chose to pretend. The skies grew darker and the rain shower turned to a massive downpour which just made the pounding of my heart worse. How could a morning drive be this dark and gloomy? How could the weather reflect what I feel every time I wake up? I shut my eyes and try to picture you in my mind like what I always did since you left.