To The Moon And Back

Chapter 36

I'm certain this is how it feels to suffer from an addiction. Swirls of memories, fragments of dreams of just one more touch, one more kiss. I've become emotionally dependent on him to feel normal, to feel better.

Withdrawal is an awful experience, my brain is foggy and days are gloomy. I can't even feel things properly anymore. I've become acquainted with empty smiles and polite head nods.

My heart is steady, each beat precisely timed, nothing stirring it anymore. My soul is desolated, void of ardor, barely carrying on.

I don't remember what it feels like to look forward to something. Now, every day is a copy of the other. I wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, work, go home, spend some time with my family, then sleep.

Today, I decided, no more of this.

I will do something different.

The last time I was in this grey, horrible state of mind was after I saw my parents' death footage for the first time. I vividly remember how I let go of the past back then, how I began a new phase of my life, and embraced my presence the way it was.

I cut my hair. I let go of something physically valuable to me, and in return, my mind loosened its grasp on the pain it kept holding.

So this is what I'm going to do. I'll let go of this hair he touched, this curtain I conceal my face and feelings behind. I tell the hairdresser exactly how I want it: short, bold, and framing my face instead of hiding it.

After he's done, my hair reaches my shoulders instead of my lower back. I wonder how Pam and everyone will react.

I enter the house, anticipating their reactions. Ember sees me first and gasps. "Aurora, what the heck!"

"Do you like it?" I ask.

"Well, yeah, but why?"

"Change is necessary. Can't keep holding on to the past forever."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, feed me with your bullshit. Whatever, you look pretty both ways."

"Thank you, Ember."

I spend the day receiving compliments on how amazing my hair looks, but none of them is what I want to hear. I want to hear him tell me how beautiful he thinks I am.

Nope, we promised each other, no calls. It would be heart-wrenching to see each other on phone screens and not feel each other's warmth or hugs or lips.

I have to let him go.

----------

"Happy birthday, baby, sweet nineteen," Pam says, placing the cake on the dining table. All my siblings sing me happy birthday and I thank them all.

I take a look at the presents and count them. Seven from my siblings, one from Pam, another from Noah, and another one from an unknown source. I inspect it, but there's nothing to give its sender away. I tear off the wrapping paper and see a portrait of myself, elaborately hand-drawn on canvas and painted with aesthetic oil paint brushstrokes.

I know without thinking, this is Jay's creation, my newest invaluable possession. What a magnificent human being.

I spot a letter attached to the wrapping and start reading it, forcing my eyes not to tear up.

'Dear Aurora,

I know we promised we won't contact each other, but your birthday had to be an exception. This is a painting I drew of you from memory, your beautiful features and luscious lips were my utmost inspiration.