Thank You

History

It is a long drive, but I never minded driving. Driving in silence, piercing through the stillness of the small country roads, across fields and sunsets. It wasn't long before the boy next to me fell asleep, his head bouncing with each bump of the road and his mouth just slightly open. It is probably better that way. Not that I wouldn't have wanted to talk to him, but with him asleep, I do not have to stare into these eyes that bring me back to my past. But then again, I am driving right back to it, so what would it truly change ?

The city lights fade away as the roads get smaller, and too soon, these very same roads turn grey; this grey I fought so hard to forget for years. The landscapes feel more and more familiar as the hours pass, just like long-forgotten dreams emerging from the depth of my memory. I can feel the chills running down my spine as the town I once fled appears to me, far away, closer and closer, until I finally drive past the old, rusty sign.

I may have grown in height, but the buildings seem frighteningly tall. The poles tower over me, almost threatening to fall. Oh no, I have never quite liked this town, but if it was grey and sad before, it now feels darker and more dangerous. Like a menace. Like a promise. But not the kind I want to hear.

Turn around and never come back.

But the minutes pass, and I am still driving further into the labyrinth of streets I couldn't get myself to forget. I still know each crossing, each bump or hole in the cement, even without having ever driven here before. This is the town that has seen all of my traumas and mistakes ; every inch of it is carved inside my brain forever, and I can't deny it anymore – not now that I'm in it again. Something you bury can always find its own way out again.

"Where are we?"

The young boy sitting beside me is stirring on his seat, every inch of his body coming back to life. These ocean orbs piercing through me again. I don't need to look at him to feel the weight of his stare on me. No matter how hard I try to focus on the road ahead, I can still feel it burning on my skin.

"We're almost there."

I can feel him tense up next to me. I'm not the only one this place has haunted for years.

"Do you remember any of it?"

"Not the city. That I think my brain didn't see as important. All I remember is... well. You know."

"It isn't a very nice city, but I wish it was it you remembered, Dashiell."

"Yeah. So do I."

Silence falls upon the car, but it's nothing like the ones I used to cherish so dearly when I still lived. It is heavy. Full of all the untold pain, the unspeakable words that we both have wanted to scream for far too long. Full of the memories we have worked so hard to bury, just for them to wake up stronger than before. Full of trauma, of loss, of death. Full of all the things that make us empty.

We both watch the aging town unveil itself again to us. It hasn't changed all that much. It was always more feelings than concrete to me. Every building, every road, every tree we pass is linked to an emotion. Not the kind I would like to feel. The kind I know is going to rise up again the second I park in front of the now decaying-looking theater.

The world is freezing up again. Images are slowing down, and the simple concept of time is disappearing. Everything is moving so slowly, too slowly, yet I can feel my heart beating in my chest at the speed of a humming bird. Maybe it is beating like a humming bird flies: backwards. If only time could be reversed. If only my love could revive all things lost.

But it can't.

"Your mom used to work here at the theater when I met her. I think she hadn't been working there for a long time. She was there for the Christmas show. It was my understanding that you only lived here for a short while."

Dashiell softly hums.

"We spent all our early childhood moving from city to city. Mom always said it was because of her job, but now I know, she made that choice to move. She knew Andrew," he winces at the name, and my heart tightens when he doesn't refer to him as his father, "could move from city to city too, with his job? So she made the choice to move every few months so she wouldn't get too close to people and have to explain the bruises or the occasional limping."

The bitterness in his voice is obvious.

"She could have stayed if she had wanted to. Any theater would've been lucky to have her."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at the façade.

"Do you want to go in?"

"I think I'd like to, yes. Do you?"

It's time for my body to tense up.

"No. No, I don't think so. But go. I'll wait for you in the car."

I watch as the boy climbs out of the car and up the stairs I had once been so excited to walk.

The second he is out of sight, I realize I have been holding my breath. And that same second, I collapse on the steering wheel, desperately searching for air. My lungs are burning as my first memories of her flood back in. The blue suit paired with this memorable yellow blouse. The perfectly styled hair and the soft smile on her beautiful lips. The gorgeous features harmoniously creating the most beautiful piece of art I'd ever seen. The warm voice so recognizable that sounded like music to my ear. Those penetrating blue eyes that transcended me from the first night I saw her crying on the street. When I didn't know she would be the center of that one pivotal moment in my life.

When I didn't know she would be the one.

When things were bleak but did not reek of death. When I hadn't had to fled. When I hadn't yet abandoned the remaining family I had. When against all odds, I thought maybe – just maybe – there was a chance the sun would shine on me again. When all things were possible still, and nothing had been written. Carved into stone as a prophecy. As a doomsday calling.

"Diana?"

And time being the little joker that he is, Dashiell is back on my side again, with those very same sapphire orbs. And the record starts spinning again.

"Are you okay?"

I wipe tears I didn't know had even started falling.

"I'm okay."

Oh, my love.

"I will be."

I promise I didn't abandon you.

"Shall we go say hello, then?"

I'm coming.

"And goodbye."

I am never letting go.

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merry christmas a year and a half later