Float or Forget

Letting Go

I've always loved the beach--the salty air, the sand between my toes, the water as it washes against my skin. I guess you already know that.

Lewis:

Baby, please. Come back.

Your texts are really beginning to irritate me. I sigh, my body movements making the balloon you gave me shudder in the wind. It's painful to remember, but I can't help it; it's all that's on my mind.

I've just forgiven you for the billionth time. Forgiven you for flirting, forgiven you for ditching me, forgiven you for breaking my heart again, forgiven you, forgiven you, forgiven you.

That time was because you forgot my birthday. Maybe I shouldn't have made a big deal, but I couldn't help it. You just couldn't think of more ways to be an ass, couldn't you?

But you decided to make it up to me. I was so excited when you announced we were going to the fair, the same one that they hold every year. The one where we met two years ago.

"Here you go, beautiful," you said with that stupid laugh that makes me blush. You gave the guy selling balloons a few bucks, bowing as you handed me a pink colored balloon, my favorite color.

You said that you were going to get some cotton candy. The blaring lights of games were blinding me, the roaring screams of people on the Tilt-a-Whirl deafening me. I made my way towards the cotton candy shop that doubled as a popcorn seller. You weren't there. I turned the corner and my grasp on the balloon tightened; for some reason, I didn't want to let the damn thing go.

You were making out with some girl. Maybe it was that girl I caught you with last year, or maybe the one the month before, but nothing mattered. Your arms were wrapped around her waist, her blonde hair stuck to your face, your faces buried in each other.

"Lewis!" I screamed. You turned around, the blonde gasping and blushing from embarrassment, but your pitiful yells of apology didn't drown out my crying.

I ran to the beach. It wasn't too far from the fair, maybe only a couple minutes. The breeze is making my hazel hair tangle in knots, and the balloon is waving in the breeze.

Lewis:

Mandy, I'm so sorry. I know you can't forget this, but can you forgive me?

Babe, Where are you? Please tell me.

You should know that I'm at the beach. I almost groan at the fact that you don't know--I know everything about you. Your favorite band, color, movie, show, how you love it when I mess up your brown hair until each strand is standing out in a different direction. You should know that I always come to the beach to think. I came here after Mom died in a car crash. I came here when dad finally got arrested when the neighbors heard my screaming, when the belt finally stopped its assault on me. I came here when my sister bailed to follow her boyfriend around the country in his tour bus, probably getting high the entire time. I came here when I had to move in with Aunt Violet, ignoring her strict rules about never being allowed to leave the house when I got home.

Lewis:

You're at the beach. I know it. I'm coming to get you. I'm so sorry.

I snort because I highly doubt you would go so far out of your way to console me.

Sometimes I wish I could make a time-machine so I could stop my parents from moving here to Miami. I loved it in Boston, but apparently a better job opportunity was more important than my wants. I would go back to stop myself from dragging my sister to the fair to celebrate my sixteenth birthday.

I look up at the balloon. It keeps bouncing towards the sky, towards the heavens and beyond, wanting for me to let go. I wish so terribly much to let go too. For whatever reason, I can't forget you. I hate you so much, so much that I can't describe it, but I love you so much that it makes my mouth form into a smile and my heart beat uncontrollably. Maybe it's because you gave me a shoulder to cry on every time I needed it. Could it be because the way your blue eyes look into my dull brown ones make me illuminate in euphoria? Is it the way you hold my hand makes my fingertips tingle with excitement and glee?

I love you so much, and I hate you with every fiber of my being, but I'm positive of one thing: I despise myself. I hate my stupid pudgy face, my idiotic opinions, my awful family, the way my fingers cling onto the balloon. The stupid string is woven between my tiny, pale fingers. What do I have going for me? An aunt that would be jubilant if I never came back home, a best friend that forgot our friendship so she could sleep with you, and a salmon balloon. It wants me to let go.

So do I.

So I release it into the air, freeing it from confinement. I begin to stand, and I hear your Jeep's tires screech onto the sand of the beach. I can't forgive you, or forget you, but I can love you and hate you all at once, and hate myself and love nothing about my world.

But I adore the beach. Maybe I could become a part of it. You scream my name, imploring me to stop walking towards the waves that are growing by the minute. But I smirk because you don't care enough to run after me and stop me from taking that step off of the jetty.

I can't forget.

But maybe, as I'm allowing the cold water to wash throughout me, I can finally begin to float.