Never Always (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

The anger takes a hold of me sometimes, rips me open so I don’t know who I’m angrier at. Him. Or me. Who deserves more of the blame? Him for letting me fall in love with him? Or me for knowing the consequences if I did? The anger becomes so great that I want to hit something. Pound the life out, make the smug expression disappear. Silence the numerous “I told you so”s ringing in my ears. Sterling’s a good sport about it, forces me to the gym to get it all out.

But sometimes, when I get back to the room, find myself standing in the middle of it all, some of the anger lingers. Then mixes with the sadness still pooling inside of me. The concoction they make is toxic. It cuts off my airway and squeezes at my heart so I feel like I’m about to die.

NO one should have to feel like this. Why do I feel like this? Because I loved someone else so completely that when they left, a part of me went with them. How is that fair? How is it that I haven’t lost all of myself because of all the little pieces I’ve sent off with people? I don’t want to see it, the wound left behind. But I feel it there, tickling my senses, reminding me of what’s gone.

How do people get over this? One day at a time, they tell me. One hour, one minute, one second, one—blink. Take one at a time and exist in each one. Acknowledge it and slowly move past it. Allow yourself to feel it enough to begin to numb. Numb isn’t the right word, or so I’ve been told. The therapist corrects me with ‘heal’ but the word doesn’t ring true. How does one begin to heal this sort of thing? It’s not like you can dribble on some ointment then slap a band aid on top. Loss isn’t something you can heal, it’s something you numb or poke at enough times that it eventually stops hurting. Your pain tolerance goes up.

Do I want it to stop hurting? Is what I lost worth so little that I should be able to forget?

I don’t think so.

 

~

Page

It was freezing! The room was downright frigid. Sometime during the night I’d kicked the comforter down and it was hanging precariously off the bed. The radiator was cold—you couldn’t control how much heat it put off so you didn’t leave it on at night. We weren’t allowed space heaters because they were considered a fire hazard.

Too hot or too cold. That’s the way of life in one of the older dorms. The university really needed to fit the place with central air and heat.

Grady was usually my nighttime heat source but I was alone. He was gone and when I looked at the time, I wasn’t at all surprised. He had class at nine but he almost always woke me up early to fool around before I had to walk him out.

Why hadn’t he done that this morning?

I frowned, pulled the blanket back over me, and found my phone to see if he’d sent a text. Nothing, nada, not from him. Sterling sent me one but I didn’t want to open it. I already knew what it said and I had no answer for it. Not a hundred percent true. The answer was: no. Grady and I hadn’t gotten around to talking the night before. It was as if neither of us wanted to spend the time with words and instead chose to indulge in each other. Not the worst way to spend my time, I figured. And besides, I had today to talk to him.

Not like he was going anywhere.

I needed to talk to him. I knew that but I was afraid of what the conversation would do. Things would change, drastically, and I was afraid he’d blame me. Then my mind would change and I knew he wouldn’t be angry, just—things would change and how we dealt with it would ultimately define us.