Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Twenty: Ellis

This day never gets any easier, no matter how many years go by. It pulls at my heart, unraveling it at the seams. My brain is a foggy mess; I am unable to focus on work, so I call it a day. Beck begs for my attention, but I can't bring myself to focus on him either.

I'm a bowl of soggy oatmeal. Complete mush.

And she doesn't notice. She places earrings in her ears, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, unfazed by the day. Does she even know what today is? Does she even remember?
Sometimes I look at her and find it hard not to hate her. Some mornings I wake up and feel nothing but revulsion towards her. It grabs me around the throat, yanking me around. But I swallow it down. Feeling guilty moments later for it. I try not to blame her for what happened. It was really hard in the beginning, especially when I first found out. I was going to leave her. I could barely look her in the eyes.

I couldn't imagine ever waking up in bed next to her again afterwards. The thought made me sick. I was consumed with rage that I was aiming at her, and it wasn't fair because she was grieving too. She was struggling with the guilt of it all.

So I suppressed it. Hiding my emotions so I could be there for her and try in any way to relieve some of the pain and guilt she felt. I tried to be there for her, despite my own disdain for her and the emotions I was going through.

But now it feels like I'm the only one carrying it. Like I gathered her emotions, merging them into mine. Now I'm the only one who feels the grief, the pain. She acts like nothing ever happened.

My jaw ticks as I watch her getting ready. I sit on the edge of our bed, body slumped forward, eyes exhausted. They feel heavy, hard to keep open. "Where are you going?" I ask her.

She shoots me a sideways look. "Please tell me you're joking."

I give her a blank stare.

"Ellis." She huffs and smacks her hands on the bathroom counter before moving into the doorway. "The dinner party at my parents house tonight? We've known about this for months now."

I give her a look of bewilderment. "A dinner party? Tonight?"

"Yes, Ellis, I can't believe you've forgotten. My parents have been raving about it."

I'm stunned by her lack of remembrance. Or maybe this is her way of healing. Forgetting about it altogether. I can't be like that. I don't want to forget. It feels like a slap in the face. It makes me ache with more guilt that the memory is slipping. Bringing it up with Millie is never a discussion that doesn't end in a heated argument, so for the most part, I avoid it altogether. It's too hard to talk about. But today isn't a day for a party. It isn't a day to celebrate. This will never be a happy day.

"Do you not realize what today is?" I ask her slowly as I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. When I first met Millie, I was in awe of her. Her strength and confidence. The way she appeared to have no fears. I was this poor, rough kid who came from a completely different background than her, and it was apparent from the start. She came into my college class, head held high, with bright red hair, and slipped into the only empty seat beside me.

She took out her notebook, placed it evenly in front of her, flipped it open to the first page, and clicked on her pen, ready to write her notes. Even her notebook and pen were fancy compared to mine. She reeked of upper-class.

I couldn't help but sneak glances at her throughout the class. Her presence was intoxicating, and I found it hard to focus. She sat next to me in that class for the next month, never so much as giving me a glance. Ignoring my existence altogether, but I noticed her. Taking notes of what she wore, what days she came in with a tennis bag tossed on one arm. The days she had coffee in one hand. She seemed busy, focused. I thought she was beautiful.