What If I Jump?

Gilbert

She sat across from me in math, just under the window near Ms. Lucille's desk. It always caught my attention to see a soft breeze brush past her hair and her small figure shiver with chills as she wrapped her faded jacket around herself. It never occurred to me that I had ever caught Ella's attention, but I saw her everywhere and each time she was tied up with a different guy. Some of them were just friends, but the other guys are what held her together. It wasn't each individual that meant everything to her, but rather the notion of having someone that loved her. She was insecure; that's just how she spent most of her life, moving on from guy to guy just so she would feel important.

October twenty-first marks the day that we officially met. It was a Friday night at a home football game, and the air was particularly cold after the sun had set. I made my way to the bleachers to find her sitting alone. My heart throbbed at the sight of her sitting there, her jacket tightly wrapped around her and a half empty Dr. Pepper bottle in hand. She looked like the last person you'd have thought to see at a football game but sure enough, she was there. I approached her despite the butterflies that churned against the walls of my stomach and asked if I could sit with her. She politely accepted and after many questions and rather childish jokes, we had bonded. For the first time, I had seen her smile. A radiant glow of pure happiness shone through her teeth and I felt like she was exactly what I was missing in life.

It was on that night that I hesitantly shifted my hand over to hers. Our fingers brushed, gathering her attention and I told her how I felt. I admitted to having a bit of a crush and I explained that I would love to be more than just a peer to her. Tears slipped down her face as she struggled to meet my eyes. "I'm not very likable once you get to know me," her shy voice cracked. "But I want to know you. I want you to be open with me. I'm here to listen." She took a deep breath and looked up at me, a shaky grin playing across her pink lips. She took my offer which didn't surprise me considering her past relationships, but I wanted this to be different for her. At that moment, I wanted to be her one and only. I wanted her so badly and as soon as she was within my reach, I let her go, never really giving her the chance she deserved.

After that night, we spent most Fridays on my trampoline. At first, those nights were innocent and filled with chatter about simple problems and their solutions. I tried my best to offer as much help as I could since she had no way to see a therapist. Once more trust had built up, we advanced to passionate kisses and gentle moans. It  felt almost as if I had pushed her into a more vulnerable position. I miss the way Ella would tangle her fingers into my hair, the way she writhed under me when I pinned her down, and the way she greedily pulled me closer when turned on. She'd look up at me like I was a god, almost as if I had complete control over her world. In a way, I did have complete control; I held her fragile heart in my hand. As strong as she was, I was the one thing that could break her in a matter of seconds.

One particular night on the trampoline, I felt estranged. As I sat up, she curled her body around mine and rested her head on my chest. Her glistening eyes met mine and I knew it shouldn't be me that she loved; I shouldn't be the person to hold her. "Do you think we'll be together for a long time?" she whispered. Ella's words had shattered me and I felt reluctant to answer. I desperately pressed her lips to mine as a last resort and silently prayed she'd forget. And she did. But the guilt took root within my veins, coursing through me with each lie that spilled from my lips. It haunts me to know that she probably thought of that kiss as reassurance which later would make our breakup so harsh.

It wasn't that I didn't have feelings for her, because I did. I loved her more than anything when we first fell in love. Towards the end of the relationship, I started to have numerous doubts and I felt like she deserved better than someone who would doubt their love. I experimented with other girls and sometimes would ignore her altogether to spare my guilt. There were many times that I looked into her crystal blues eyes and I thought to myself "How could I hurt you?" I feel stained with sin, almost as if I pushed her off the edge. Even now, I spend most nights in my room alone, wondering if I could have changed things. Maybe if I would've stayed for longer or at least if I would have avoided cheating then she would still be alive.

I could feel her hatred for me growing by the day during the last week that we were together. We argued more than ever. Every argument ended with her apologizing though and each apology followed by a kiss. The fact that she rarely stayed mad at me made it easier for me to continue my affairs. The way I took advantage of her kindness makes me sick now. As each day passes I reflect on my behavior and I'm flooded with shame. She was a fragile butterfly; always trying to escape the things that scared her most. She deserved far more than me. Looking  back to my habits now, it seems that running away from our problems was the one destructive quality that we shared.

I had finally had my last doubt the day of the breakup. I needed to leave for her sake. I showed up late just hoping that she would give up and leave, but she had been so patient with me that day. We met outside of her apartments and the moment I saw her, I pulled her into a hug. I knew damn well that hug would be last after she heard what I was going to say. She seemed to have had some suspicions of what I had done behind her back, and the moment I mentioned it her movements become fidgety and awkward. It was as if she didn't want to believe any of my words. Without excuses, I admitted to the late night phone calls, occasional video chats, and pictures. The look on her face was a mix of absolute horror and heartbreak. Permanently etched into my mind, it replays when the thought of her passes my mind.

She approached me the following day, and I could see that she wanted answers. I only ignored her to spare her the details of my heartless acts. Anything more that I could say would only hurt her. Ella's pale lips pursed as she waited for me to speak again, and those watery blue eyes searching mine for signs was all that it took to break me. She only wanted an answer, but all I could do was walk away. 

The next day she came to school in dreary clothing, looking as if she had gotten zero sleep. I wanted to approach her so badly, but I knew it could only make things worse. It was through friends that I discovered her newly found eating disorders as well as gradual rebellion at home. Her mother, being blind to the things I had done, decided to call me and ask for me to fix things in any way I could. I made an attempt to talk to her the week after her mother's call, but it was all to no avail. I had a brief confidence that I could fix things and still be distant, but my confidence faltered the moment I saw her in the courtyard again. She was in the spot that we used to meet in every morning, sobbing quietly. I knew then that there was no turning back, and she needed me to stay far away for good.