See you again ✓

• 33 • •

Collin's point of view

Each day feels like a slow punch in the gut and Jamie’s words - those last words she said to me - keeps cutting deeper and deeper as they're repeating over and over again in my mind. It was like they were permanently etched in, stabbing me in the heart. Every second feels like an eternity and all I can think about is how she’d chosen to push me away, how she thought distancing herself would somehow fix everything. She thought she was making the right choice, but all it did was tear me apart. She thought she was sacrificing herself - and only herself - for me, but the truth is she’d sacrificed us and she didn’t even realize it.

I didn’t want sympathy. I didn’t need anyone’s pity, picking up Jamie's words. What I needed, what I craved was just her. All of her. Sick or healthy, alive or barely hanging on, it didn’t matter to me. I’d loved her through every aspect of her life, so what made this one so different? Why couldn’t she see that? Was my love such a burden to her? Did she really think she was saving me from something by shutting me out? I didn’t have the answers - just questions that kept swirling around in my head. And the silence - that crushing, suffocating silence - was about to kill me.

Janice, my friends... they all to noticed. They tried to comfort me, offering words of encouragement, but to be true, none of it mattered. I was beyond help. Right now, words felt like nothing. And the worst part? The one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about? How was I ever going to recover from this? I didn’t even know where to start. Healing seemed impossible and yet it was the only option I was left.

It had been pouring all afternoon, the kind of rain that just weighed down on you. The lunch-bar is closed, so Janice had insisted I come over her place for dinner. I didn’t want to see anyone, especially not her, but she insisted and I didn't want to add her worries. She had enough on her plate already, so I just agreed. Most of the time, the dinner table conversations is the usual - Janice and her husband talking about their day, while I sit there, silent, barely even listening. My eyes kept drifting over to Raphaelle. She grew up - this little sweetie - and somehow, she was the only one whose company I could stand. There was something about her innocence, the way she saw the world, that made everything feel just a little bit easier. Her tiny voice, her carefree laughter - it was like she could lull the pain I was carrying.

Janice knew I wasn’t in the mood for talking. She’d tried to get me to open up a few times and every now and then, she’d manage to pull a smile or a few words out of me. But it never lasted. I can tell she is getting frustrated. I saw a therapist but it didn't work at all. I was still as broken as I was when Jamie walked away. I can see the concern in Janice’s eyes, but I don't know what to say. There is nothing anyone could do. No one can fix this.

I was sitting on the terrace floor, Raphaelle on my lap, watching the stars. The rain had stopped and the sky had cleared with a thousand little lights. We spent times pretending to spot constellations, making up stories about what they were. And then suddenly, she asked me something I wasn’t ready for.

“Mama says you’re really sad. Is that true?”

I blink, caught off guard. I haven't expected her to bring this up. I didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with her. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t want to ruin her innocent view of the world. She was just a kid.

“Why does your mom say that?”

“I don’t know... She talks to daddy about it and she says you’re not feeling good.”

“Where do you hear all this stuff, huh? Are you spying on your parents?” I try to lighten the mood by tickling her, buying myself some time to figure out what to say. I knew she didn’t need to know the truth, but she was persistent.

“They talk about it in dinner... Is it true?”

I take a deep breath. I’m not sure why, but for the first time in a while I feel like saying something. Maybe it was the way she was looking at me, so open, so innocent. She wouldn’t judge me, I knew that. And for once, I didn’t want to keep pretending I was fine.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It’s true. I’m sad.”

“Are you sick uncle Cole?”

“Yes I am…”

“Where?”

I show her where my heart is.

“Our teacher said that hugging someone sad makes them feel better. If I hug you, will you feel better?” her sweet voice states. I almost laughed.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

She wraps her little arms around me and for a moment, I almost forgot everything that was wrong. I almost felt... okay. Almost.

“Is it better now?” she asks, pulling back to look at me.

“Much better,” I say, my voice a little steadier.

“Is it because of Aunt Jamie?”

I froze. I haven't heard her mention Jamie’s name in days. She’s probably overheard something, but I wasn’t sure what. I haven't gotten a single call from Jamie since... well, since everything had happened. I didn’t know what to say.

“No. It’s not her. Not exactly.” I lie.

“Who then?”

I let out a sigh, feeling the weight of everything crashing down again.

“It’s not about who, honey. It’s about... everything. I’m just really tired.”

“Are you tired because of me?” she asks, suddenly looking worried.

“No, sweetheart. You’re not the problem.” I smiled softly. “You hugged me and I feel better.”

“Ellie, your dad’s looking for you,” Janice calls from inside.

Raphaelle climbed off my lap and ran inside to find her dad but halfway there, she stopped, ran back and hugged me again before definitely leaving. Janice handed me a bottle of beer and I took it without a word, popping the cap off and taking a long swig.

“I didn’t expect it to clear up tonight,” she starts, almost casually, sitting down next to me.

I didn't answer her. I didn’t have anything to say.

“Hey,” Janice says softly, nudging my shoulder. “Talk to me, please.”

“I don’t have much to say, Janice,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the grass.

“Tell me at least how you’re doing,” she presses.

“Not good. Not good at all,” my voice quiet as I stare at the ground, the beer bottle cold in my hands.

“I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“I don’t think there is but thanks for trying.” I let out a slight smile.

“I just... I wish I could wipe that look off your face. You have no idea.”

“Me too... but it’s the only face I actually got.”

She leans her head on my shoulder and we sit there in silence for a long moment. We didn’t need to say anything. Maybe, just maybe, the storm would pass and eventually, things would get better. Or at least, I hope.