Head Over Leather #Wattys2017

XXXVII. Reminding me to forget

Numb. There wasn't any other way to describe how I was feeling and no matter how long I stare at the wall, the emotions or lack thereof don't become any clearer. Propping my feet up against the head of my bed, I fold my hands over my stomach and continue to stare mindlessly at the ceiling, wondering if I stare long enough, will the answers to all my problems just appear?

"Maya, honey. You need to eat." My thoughts are interrupted as my mom knocks softly on my room door with such a gentleness in her voice that I'm afraid that she'll start coddling me like I'm a baby bird with a broken wing. As I part my lips to respond, I realize nothing comes out and I'm not even sure what's meant to come out. In fact, I'm not sure about anything anymore.

The door creaks open and I don't have to look to know that she's slipping in quietly with a bowl of warm soup and an aching heart for her daughter that's barely uttered a word since she got back. I can hear her setting the bowl down on my bedside table before she perches on the edge of my bed, hand reaching out to rub my knee.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to lecture you or anything. I just wanted to bring you some soup because I know you can't keep anything solid down." She pauses for a moment, hand rubbing circles on my knee. "I told your dad that tomorrow would be fine to come pick you up for the camping trip. That way, you can get out the house, have some quality time with him, then still have some time to yourself before school."

"Thanks for the soup." Is all I can manage to get out and seeing that that's as much as I'll say, she sighs softly before leaving. As the door shuts with a click, I turn to my side and tuck my hands under my head, falling asleep on an empty stomach and an even emptier heart.

~~

"See that one over there? That's an American Singer. Their songs are never too soft or too loud. Always just right, but very distinct." My dad rambles offhandedly as he pokes around the fire with a stick while our food is cooking. Despite the scorching hollowness I've been carrying around inside me for the past week, I can't help but feel a small smile tugging at my lips as I watch my dad attempt to make conversation. It's only the first night, but it feels just like old times. When things were simpler.

"How'd you get to learn so much about birds?" I find myself asking and I notice that my dad perks up at the sound of my voice, before quickly recovering with a slight cough as if to cover up his excitement over my having broken my silence.

"I've been watching some documentaries with Raina. She's a bit of a tree hugger." He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as if the mention of his girlfriend bothers me.

"Well it's nice that you can do stuff like that together. Maybe we can come out here all together next time for like bird watching." He barks out a laugh at that and just as easily as it had gone, silence falls over us yet again. But it doesn't matter because the food is ready and he fumbles to get it all plated. As he hands me the plate with grilled sausages, potatoes, and some beans, I can't help but ask:

"Why did you and mom fall out of love?"

The question hangs in the air and I'm left poking around at the contents on my plate to avoid looking him. For a moment, I wonder if he'll even answer but after slipping off his baseball cap to ruffle his graying hair and placing it firmly back on his head, he gives me a sympathetic smile.

"Sometimes that's how things go, kid. I'll always love your mom and she'll always love me. More importantly, we'll always love you. We grew into different people and when you grow up with someone for so long, it's hard to imagine that there's anything else out there." He stops, carefully searching for the right words to continue. "But there is. There always is. And it just got the point where we started wondering 'is this it and if it is, can I live with that?' And I'm gonna be honest with you, sweetheart. You're not supposed to think that when you're with the person you're meant to be with. Sure, you'll have doubts and wonder if this is all there is, but you'll never have to wonder if you can live with it. You just know you can because you want to. Not because you need to or because you can't live without that person but because you don't want to live without them."

It takes me a couple minutes to let what he said sink in and part of me gets it. Part of me understands there are just some complexities that come with love and marriage, but there's an even bigger part of me that refuses to accept that you can just decide to stop being in love with someone and being with them.

"What happened with that boy?" My breath hitches at his question and I don't even know where to start, because my heart clenches and suddenly I'm brought back to that night.

"How could you? You lied, Ethan! Right to my face! I asked you, I asked you what..." I can't even finish my angry rant because my chest is heaving and the tears are so persistent that my entire face just feels wet. Ethan reaches out towards me but I abruptly jerk back, a move that is all too familiar, at his attempt to console me.

"Maya, listen to me! You don't understand, it's not..it's not what you think." He starts to pace around the room, fingers aggressively threading through his brown locks and another burst of anger flares through me at his lack of explanation.

"Bullshit!"

It feels like I'm imploding. Every emotion is hitting me all at once and what I really want is to just be in his arms but I can't subject myself to being that pathetic so I straighten my shoulders, intense gaze settling on him.

"Did you or did you not sleep with her?" I ask, jaw clenched and eyes forming into slits as if to intimidate him. I won't let him see me hurt. I won't give him the satisfaction.

My question is met with silence and that alone should be an answer, but I wait because I need him to say it. I need him to put me out of my misery. He opens his mouth to respond but hesitates.

"Answer the fucking question, Ethan! It's a yes or no!"

"Okay! Yes! Dammit, yes." And that's all I needed to hear. Grabbing my bag out from underneath the bed, I begin tossing every item around the room belonging to me inside. Ethan watches me silently, gaze following my every move and I wonder if he has anything to say for himself. Anything at all that would make this hurt less.

"Maya." His voice cracks as he tries to get my attention but I ignore him and continue to stuff everything into the suitcase. "Maya." It's one of the few times he's ever used my first name.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you." And with that, he ducks his head and leaves the room, allowing me to collapse onto the bed as I let out a sob.

"Well y'know, what always happens." I don't bother elaborating and I'm grateful that my dad doesn't push further, but just to be sure, I start shoveling the food into my mouth to avoid talking about it any further.