This is the story of Jack and Rose, and no, they have no relations to the Titanic I'll have you know. A cold snowy night in October is met with tragedy when a drunk driver plows into Rose's car, a nineteen year old on her way home to see her family...
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~Jack
Only day one back from break and everything was in full swing. The air around campus was cold yet lively, as though thanksgiving break had given a lift to everyone's spirits. Everyone's except for mine that is. It had been eight days. Eight of the worst days of my life. All because I had to live them without her.
I had gone weeks, months without seeing her before, but this was so much different. This time there would be no, 'see you spring break' or 'see you come summertime' or even the very common 'guess I'll see ya' next time I'm at home cus' you're always there'. There would be no next time.
After my drive back to school yesterday when I had let the emotions of her death really hit me, I hadn't been able to stop. Everywhere I looked I saw her face, her smile, her eyes, heard her laugh, or looked back on our memories. The memories were the hardest to handle. Everything reminded me of her.
I was sitting in an economics lecture this morning, I know boring, and the professor said something about bias and it brought me back to the time Rosalie was performing her debate club speech to my family in our living room. This was while we were still so close; my senior and her sophomore years in high school.
She was ranting, in a very sweet way, might I add, about how age in our current society is but a number and that the young minds today are those of the world of tomorrow, or something like that. To be honest I wasn't listening all too well. Not because I didn't care, because I did...I was just busier admiring the speaker than the point she was getting across.
It wasn't until my economics professor repeatedly said my name that I was pulled out of my daydream. I had been caught red handed. He was expecting an answer to a question I was just as likely to remember as my first words. He was not happy to say the least. To be fair, neither was I.
The moment our chapter had been finished for the week, I was up and out of there within seconds, even before the class had been let out. My quick getaway proved crucial the instant my foot left the room seeing as I broke down in the hall. Luckily there were no students to see a grown man cry...and not just cry but sob. My back hit the cement wall just to the side of the classroom door and It crumpled down into a heap. My knees to my chest, arms clinging to my legs for dear life and my face buried in the middle.
I gave my heart an inch and it took a mile. I allowed myself an ounce of reality to accept the fact that she was truly gone and that was me opening the door to agony. And now here we are. What was my senior and what would be her sophomore year of college. Our worlds had been flipped upside down, rotated, dribbled and flipped around again. But she didn't survive it.
How much I would give to trade places with her. To say I'd give my life would be an understatement and would be no even trade. She lived her life for others, anyone but herself. I lived my life for only myself. I did what I wanted when I wanted to do it and didn't give a crap who got hurt in the process. She would be so disappointed in me.
What would she say had she seen me in that moment? 'How dare you mourn a girl you spent the last two years of your life trying to forget? How dare you sit there and cry over me when you seemed to care so little?'
I could hear those words inside my head but knew deep down they didn't belong to Rose. No matter how hurt she may have been, she always welcomed me back into her life as if nothing had changed. Each holiday like we hadn't gone months without seeing each other. Each summer full of those occasional bonding moments.
But what if she did truly feel that way and just never said anything about it? That would be Rosalie. She would take everything, no matter the pain it caused, and turn the other cheek. Besides her quick sarcasm, she would never even imagine of saying those things aloud.
But what if she felt them?
What if she felt like I didn't care about her? What if she died with that perception of me? How could I have let her go without telling her I loved her?
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