Friday, I'm in Love

Four

Well, this is uncomfortable. I sit with my hands across the room while Jasa, Falon's mom stares at me intently. Her eyes were empty and her hair looked slack; as if it hadn't been washed in forever. It probably hadn't, and her usually soft and smooth face was sunken in and had a gray tinge to it.

The energy in this quiet house was heavy with anger and hurt beyond possible with no sign of optimism. We sat staring at each other for seemingly hours. I finally break the silence, with the question I asked the moment I walked in. She never answered, so I ask again. "What did you know, that she never told me?" Please, just something. 

Her eyes flick away from mine, and she clenches her jaw, the way Falon always did. There was a heavy pause before she spoke, "She was initially diagnosed with anxiety and reactive attachment disorder."

I let this flood my mind. I had no idea what reactive attachment disorder is, but I had my affair with anxiety. Only scratching the surface though, like math tests and talking on the phone. I didn't know that anxiety was an actual diagnosis.

"So, I took her to therapy out of a doctor's recommendation. She wasn't happy, Falon didn't like the thought of having a mental illness and she hated the word 'disorder'. So hopefully a psychologist would help her feel okay about her diagnosis. And understand it."

She gets up and walks across the room. There were books splayed out all across the coffee table; as if they were half read. She picked up one and gingerly padded back. She hands it to me, "Have it, it really helped me with understanding the disorder. Not that it matters now." She rubbed her nose and sits back down. The cover read The Age of Borderline: BPD and the clusters.

There were so many questions about this that I had for Jasa; but my brain couldn't connect with my mouth for some reason. So I just said, "Thank you. Would it be okay if I went up to Falon's room?"  She said that would be alright.

It felt like my feet were chained to weights as I climb the stairs. If I were blindfolded, I could find Falon's room without bumping into anything. Even from the outside. Thanks to all those times I snuck in when she was grounded. I sprained my wrist from losing my grip on her window sill, falling ten feet and stupidly trying to save myself by putting my hand out.

I open the door, and my breath catches in my unprepared throat. Her perfume is still circling the air, and her bed is unmade. Jasa had left it the way Falon left it.

I went in and sat down on her mattress. I lift, part of the comforter up to my nose; inhaling her sensitive scent. I can't believe she isn't alive. It seems so unrealistic.  Maybe she ran away, because she couldn't handle my affections. Which is true I now know; and she did runaway. But not while she was breathing.

Her usually lit vanity sat shadowed and lonesome. I remember the rare times when she would allow me to do her makeup. She was a perfectionist, and her eyeliner and eyeshadow had to be a certain way.

Then
"Ariella I love you, I do; but you suck at doing eye makeup. Furry gray things with ringed tails are the only ones that can rock black eyeshadow."

"So what, I think you're the cutest raccoon I've ever met," I assured her when she complained about me doing her artwork. 

She rolls her eyes, and stares at me. I feel a little off by the way she looks at me sometimes. It's as if she's deciding whether she loves me or not. But I know I'm just being ridiculous.

Now
I force myself out of the fog of memories, even though it's nearly impossible to. There's so many, it's as if I'm swimming in cold honey.

I run my hand across her sheets, and I lightly rest my hand on her pillow. This is the bed where she  first made sensual love to me. She managed to take all my insecurities about my body with every touch. A longing feeling brushed heart. I wish I was able to do the same for her.

I see a black composition notebook sitting underneath her stack of makeup palettes. I walk over and tenderly pull it out. Falon hated writing, so this was a surprise. The cover read Falon Jade Irving. There were little words that formed sentences that spattered the cover. Flowers are cool. and Ella with little hearts around my name. There was no way I would leave without this.

I leave her bedroom, glancing a moment at the bathroom where she took her last breath. A slivering shiver jolted through my body. I could feel my throat closing and tears gather in my eyes. I make my way back downstairs, with the notebook in hand.
"Can I take this?" I ask Jasa as soon as I get in the dining room.  She takes a deep, tired breath,
"Yeah. I memorized all of it, and I think you'll find some things that might peak your interest. It sure did mine. And you're leaving, right? Like running away?" She asks, nodding to my backpack.
I give her a pasted smile, "Don't tell my parents please?"

"I won't. But just to put it out there, the home Falon grew up in is in Reno. If you happen to pass through, do you want the address?" I immediately tell her yes but I don't understand why she wants me to go there. She quickly jots it down on a grocery list and hands it to me.
512 Slate Drive. I love you and safe journeys. Say hi every now and then :)

I smile and give her a hug. She didn't let go right away, but that was okay with me. I needed it as much as she did. I think we both mentally agreed that I wouldn't be back. She needed time to move on with her life.

So do I, and this is the last time I'd ever be in Falon's house.