Is Everybody In Love With You?

Two - wishing for a miracle

Picture of Chase to the side --->

Wishing for a miracle

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Last night I had lain in bed and had a silent tantrum. I had shoved my head into my pillow and screamed until I had no breath left. I’d kicked the mattress and beat my fists. I’d squirmed, lashed out and sobbed myself dry. I’d rolled and bucked, growled and hissed.

This morning I was embarrassed. I mean what was I? Four? I used to be a girl who faced problems head on, most of the time without letting my conscience interfere. The old me would have arranged to ‘coincidently’ run into Chase the day he got back. I would have smiled, been indifferent and made him feel like he’d been insignificant in my life.

The present me, the one who had lost two family members abruptly not so long ago, had trouble pretending everything was okay. I had trouble hiding my pain and Chase had hurt me. It wasn’t that he’d left me. Even after our three year relationship, I could’ve dealt with that. It would’ve been painful but I’d have fought through it.

 It was the events leading up to his departure that had stabbed at me so that now, a year and a half later, the dagger was still hilt deep in my chest. There’d been rumors around the school campus that he’d been cheating on me. I’d been inclined to disbelieve them all, three years of being together gave me reason to trust. But then I began to second guess myself and had had to confront him. He’d neither confessed nor denied. The bastard hadn’t even had the balls to either tell me the truth or lie to keep us together. It was like he didn’t even care what I thought.

            A week before he’d left town, I’d been mugged. I’d lost my phone, wallet and other precious personal items. I’d been kicked and punched and had a pretty bad swollen cheek. On top of that, I’d gone into shock and had had to stay in the hospital overnight. He hadn’t visited me and hadn’t even bothered to contact me.

A week later he’d gone without giving a reason, without a note, without a goodbye. I hadn’t known he was leaving, he’d never even hinted at it. I’d had to find out from a friend. He was gone and never coming back.

I’d never really understood why they called it heartbreak until that moment. The pain was so sharp and lasted for more than a day. My dad had been so worried, he’d taken me into the emergency room. They hadn’t found anything wrong with me but, after hearing about the break-up, had recommended counseling. I hadn’t gone to one session.

It took me months to not think of Chase in every conscious thought. The year ended and I started to get better at hiding my feelings. I’d perfected the fake smile, the generous laugh. I’d hidden the grief, smothered the throbbing ache. My friends had lost their pitying expressions and started treating me the same way they used to, rather than treading carefully around the past.

And then I’d lost my mother and brother on one of the worst nights of my life. There was no way to explain the tremendous, air-ridding panic and raw anguish. It changed me, turned me into the opposite of my outgoing, cheerful self. I lost my friends, I lost my good grades, I lost myself.

And I remember being at the funeral, reaching for a hand, a comforting grip, the warm contact of another person. And then remembering that Chase had left six months ago and all I had left was my father, my horrified, blank faced father.

And so now, I knew, that the person I was today would not be able to be indifferent. Because the person I was today knew that I still loved Chase, despite everything, and seeing him would be the most infuriating, humiliating, frightening and hopeless thing I could imagine. I’d avoid him like I avoid having eye contact with any of my old friends.