Dancing With Keenan

Chapter Three - Numb

I managed to hold my composure until I shut the door to my apartment behind me. Then it all crashed over me like a tidal wave of pain and desperation. I collapsed to the wood floor and wrapped my arms around my legs, pressing my face into my kneecaps as the tears flowed.

It had all been too much, and I wondered if I had made the right decision.

Should I have offered to fill in for the band?

Temporary as it was, would I be able to handle it?

I wasn't sure anymore.

Sitting in that dressing room, everything had seemed simple. Sing for the band and get back that feeling of being alive, of being complete that I had felt on stage tonight.

But now that I was home, reality was crashing in. Doing so would require working with Keenan, which I wasn't sure I could do.

I had spent only a few hours with him, most of that time on stage, and I was a weeping mess on the floor of my living room.

What would repeatedly seeing him do?

Two years, and he still made my heart race. Two years of carefully putting the pieces back together, and seeing him had caused it all to come crashing down around me. I had never truly healed; I had simply slapped a Band-Aid over the gaping wound in my heart and numbly gone on about some semblance of living.

I hadn't really dealt with my past.

And I didn't know if I was ready to do so now.

"Damn it!" I hissed, clenching my hands into fists.

That physical ache was back, burning deep inside my chest and gut. It was an empty, clawing pain that felt so real, even though I knew it was nothing more than the physical manifestation of all the pain inside me.

It just punctuated my misery.

My memories were daggers in my heart that I couldn't block, that I couldn't protect myself against. They were ingrained so deep inside of me, all I could do was hope that I was strong enough to withstand the pain.

So much had gone wrong in so short a time.

It wasn't fair.

None of it had made sense.

Not then, and not now.

The two years that had passed hadn't given me any clarity. They hadn't offered any answers.

All they had offered was the time I had foolishly believed would heal me, because all my life, I'd heard the phrase, "Time heals all wounds." I'd believed it, and I'd kept on thinking, just a little more time and I'll be okay.

I'd been wrong.

Time had only helped me grow numb. I'd become accustomed to the depression that filled the hole in my heart, and I'd learned to push the pain to the back of my mind. Sure, I still had days where I could barely get out of bed, where I could barely force myself to move, but in general, I had become numb to the grief that haunted me.

Seeing Keenan had brought it all to the surface.

Would I be able to continue on as I had before if I saw him again?

Or would I have to learn a new way to live, one that could either be worse or better?

I didn't know.

I had no answers, only questions circling my mind as the memories threatened to pull me into their bittersweet escape.

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