Perfectly Imperfect

25

Distraught, I tried to make sense of what happened. He was enraged, and he'd channeled all that anger on me. His words hurt deep, and it was pretty evident that he was still holding grudges against me.

The more I thought about it, I could understand what he meant. A year ago, we were a team, and I got cold feet. I abandoned him, and in my haste to try to rebuild the broken pieces of my heart, I blocked him out. Because knowing about him, or being close to me, would have been too painful.

I didn't think I could bear it.

That was the thing.

I only thought about me.

Not once, did I stop to think about Chris.

I couldn't blame him for being so angry at me. I had broken up with him. I'd tried to move on, but it had backfired on me. All of it. I knew that I was bound to affront the consequences of what I did.

Still, I felt used and broken.

He'd been relentless. He wanted to hurt me, and the worst part was that he'd achieved it. The pain was unbearable. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Snippets of memories from the last few weeks flashed through my mind several times a day. Especially the weekend in New York.

I could see his breathtaking smile, the one he only wore on special occasions. I could feel his hand trailing on my belly, bringing to the surface the fire he ignited in me. I could close my eyes and I could feel him inside of me, at the peak of the moment when there was no ending or beginning, right when we were just one.

My life would never be the same. Deep inside of me, I knew that even if time passed, I would never love someone with the intensity I loved him.

And I knew he needed someone, if not me, he needed to share his pain with someone.

He was completely broken.

I was responsible for a part of it. And it hurt. His pain hurt me. All the guilt and remorse I'd been trying to avoid for the last year came back crashing on me with so much force that it felt physically impossible for me to wake up in the mornings.

He didn't come back to photography class. Not once.

I assumed he was with Luke. Mom had said that he was still in the hospital and he was scheduled for surgery over the next few weeks. She mentioned a new treatment, but it had to wait until after the surgery. She was keeping tabs on both Chris and Luke, yet she didn't mention either of them more than necessary. She knew I was in pain.

She was also worried about me. I was barely eating and I was sleeping most of the day. I'd only drag myself out of the room if it was mandatory.

Like when I had to drive my sisters to school, or when I had to show up to Michael's course. Something that seemed like torture. Even though I tried not to look out for him, I couldn't help but feel that a part of me was missing when he was not around.

My family tried to be supportive, but they could only do so much.

My friends tried to call, but I didn't answer. I was completely drained from the inside out.

On Tuesday, Michael announced that the course was officially over, but that to ensure our grade, we had to attend the so-called exposition he'd been talking about all summer long. I couldn't help but feel a ray of hope arising from within me.

Chris was bound to be there. Yeah, and then what?

I should probably try to steer away from him. It was clear he didn't want anything to do with me.

Since I didn't have photography class anymore, my only obligation was to drive my sisters to school, and as soon as I came back home, I'd scurried into bed again. Then, I'd reminiscence of what could have been and cried myself to sleep, feeling like the whole word was leaning over me, not knowing how I was supposed to keep on with my life.