365 Cups of Coffee

Twelve: Almond Coconut Frosticcino

    After spending nearly every day with Daniel, I feel lonely after a few days of not.  He’s left for a spontaneous vacation in Puerto Rico for three or four days, and I only have the chance to talk to him at night, when he’s resting in the hotel room or lounging around the pool.  He sends me pictures through his email of the virgin strawberry daiquiris he’s drinking, of the way the hotel has lights wrapped around palm trees, of everything he’s been doing, and although when I get them at first, I feel less lonely, once he has to go again, I just wish we could stay up late talking, even though I know he has to get up early to see things.  He looks tanner every day.

    I go to Higher Grounds on the third morning Daniel’s gone, and order an almond coconut frosticcino, but Ryan apparently has the day off, because someone new is working the counter.  I smile, but internally I’m frowning.  I think of calling up Gale or Eternal to talk and hang out, but I don’t.  The coffee isn’t as good as the ones Ryan makes.  I walk home the moment I get it.

    Raven came back online finally, ending her hiatus.  When I get home, she’s talking to Eternal in group chat.  I guess Eternal went over to her house and talk to her, to tell her it wasn’t a big deal and that it was a compliment, and that she wasn’t even sure why Raven had taken so long to tell us.  Raven is now mostly back to her normal self, but I can feel the strain in her words whenever she talks to Eternal, like she’s afraid she’s bothering her.

    I find out from Raven that Madison was Daniel’s first kiss.  Not that it should matter, but it does interest me a little to hear about that, and about how it came to happen.  How they were at a coffee shop sharing a coffee when they kissed.  Raven doesn’t remember who kissed who.

    But the whole time, I just find myself feeling lonely.  And sitting alone at my house reminds me of everything that happened.  Of the time I was so traumatized I couldn’t do anything but sit in my room alone, not able to eat, not able to talk, or even put much effort into grooming myself.  I was a mess.  I’d shower only every other day, just to escape having to think about what happened.  I slept too much, just to escape thinking at all.

    So now, to escape the loneliness, I do the opposite of what I did.  Instead of avoiding the thoughts of what happened, I write about it.  I create a letter for Daniel, to tell him exactly how I’m feeling, like I do now every time I can’t tell him.  Somehow, it helps.

    “In time, even the most haunting events become mere memories.  In time, you can’t force yourself to relive it with the same strength you did in the beginning.  You start to wonder why it hurt so much at the time, why emotions even matter at all.  You try to force yourself to dream about it so that maybe, just maybe, you won’t forget.  Because as terrible as the feeling was when it happened, you feel guilty when you start to forget.

    “And then one day, it comes back to you.  Everything you were feeling.  Something triggers it, and it comes back.  And you search for an escape once again, wonder how you ever wanted to feel like this again, because this isn’t being alive, this isn’t being strong, it’s hurting.  Plain and simple.  There’s nothing else to it.  When you start to lose sight of what changed your life, you start to realize how amazing it was to feel the way you felt. 

    “Daniel, you made me forget the way I felt.  You made me realize that I could still live.  And now that you’re not here, even if it’s just for a little bit, I can feel myself start to slip again.  And if you’re the only thing keeping me sane, I don’t know what I’m going to do when I have to get back to school.  I guess what I’m trying ti say is that even if I might feel guilty, in the end . . . Wow, I really like you.  Like a lot.  And it might not seem like it at times, because I can’t tell you out loud, can’t solidify a relationship between the two of us without remembering Dylan, and how I just left him wondering what happened . . . But I really don’t think I can live without you.

    “Don’t take that the wrong way.  I just mean that you make me feel alive.  Thank you.”

    I save the letter onto my documents, shut my laptop, and let myself cry a little.  I’ve finally admitted it, at least to myself.  I’m moving on.  And I guess that’s the first step to recovery.  Or maybe it’s the last.