Do you ever miss someone so much you have no idea what to do with yourself anymore?
It's been exactly 5 months and 3 days now.
Do I feel pain?
Sometimes, you know you are in love with someone when you feel claws gently lashing inside your stomach. Sometimes, you know it when you feel agonizing pain, that forces your whole body to shake and detoriate faster than originally meant to by the clock on the wall. That's the thing about love, it breaks every person and every law of nature. Even now, after 5 months of waiting, I couldn't be mad at him. I would open my arms wider and tell him "Come, it's been so long...it felt like home with you". The summer I spent with him made my life worthwile. He was my favorite person to talk to. And even though I know he loved me, it isn't what matters. What matters is, he taught me how to love. How to be happy about other people's happyness. He was the closest thing to altruism I've ever seen. And even though I still wake up screaming and sobbing in the middle of the night, I'm not mad at him for what he has done.
"Hey, I've been watching you across the street and..." he gently slapped his face and looked down to his feet "Why do I sound creepy already?" he tilted his head, looked me
straight in the eye and tried to smile. I recognize this boy from our psychology class, he's the one who's been dropping our curve since the first test. A lot of people disliked him, but I couldn't
see the reason.
"Hi." I noticed he was blushing and I smiled encouragingly "You are Oscar, right? I've been watching you across the classroom." I laughed, trying to make it sound like a joke, even though it was true. Oscar smiled widely, still blushing and not turning his eyes away from me.
"Yes, and you are Clara, am I right?" it seemed like he wasn't waiting for my answer but I nodded anyway, then he kept on talking "I'm working with the cancer support group down the street and I would really appreciate it if you could donate a few dollars in exchange for this key chain" he held up a little heart with three other hearts surrounding it, all held up by a metal loop.
Disappointed, I took out my wallet and gave him a 5 dollar bill, trying to force a genuine smile. He grinned at me and dropped the bill into a metal box, giving me the key chain. He shuffled his feet for a moment, not coming up with anything else to say. Discouraged, I held up the key-chain and gave him a slight nod.
"Thanks, Oscar. I should get going then." He smiled and wished me a good summer. I turned away and started walking down the street, about to meet my friends for coffee.
"Clara!" I heard someone shouting. It was him, running at me with a ridiculously serious expression.
"I want to ask if I can have your number" he spat out, as if he has rehearsed this line for a while now. I laughed and gave him my number, watching him walk away. His brown hair was neatly styled, even though it felt like he wouldn't put effort into doing that kind of stuff. He was wearing brown shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, with a little pocket. He didn't look like a hot teenage boy, who played football at an all-star league, but he made me shiver just by looking into his hazel eyes.
I've never had a boyfriend before, mainly because of my father who is a top-notch Christian. What my father doesn't know though, is that my first kiss was stolen when I was about 5 years old, while sitting in the park and eating ice-cream. A small boy with brown hair was dragged by his father by the neck and it seemed like his father's figure was drunk. He threw the boy down on the ground, kicking him in the stomach. My father told me to stay put and ran to the boy, picking him up and carrying him to the bench where I sat, ignoring every objection and threat the boy's father yelled at him. The boy was hunched over, crying and moaning from pain. My father went to talk to the drunk man and threatened to call the police. I offered my ice-cream cone to the boy and he took it, planting a soft, wet kiss on my cheek. I never knew what his name was.
At that moment, I didn't realize how much a person I just met could mean to me. From then on, Oscar and I started talking on the phone for 2 hours everyday, texting each other and meeting up for
coffee. I held him dearly as a friend only. One late summer night, we met up to drink wine and watch the stars at a little park down the alley where I lived.
"Do you think love is worthwile?" He asked, sipping wine and laying beside me, gazing at the stars. I turn my head towards him and look at him puzzled.
"What do you mean?" I say, waiting for a more specific question. He smiles and turns to me.
"Everything is temporary" he finally says.
I didn't know what he meant until the day he left, but that night it didn't matter to me. That night, he made me fall inlove with him. I don't know exactly how many nerves there are in a human body, but that night he made me feel them all tensing up and relaxing at the slightest touch of his lips or fingertips. I was not planning on falling for him. It happened naturally, just like it has to.
"I love you" he said "I know it's too soon and that makes me scared. You are kind, soft and loving, but at the same time you take nobody's insults for granted. You have no idea how hard it is to force myself to stop thinking about you sometimes. I care far too much about you. I fell asleep last night wanting to kiss you and when I woke up this morning that feeling hadn't left."
That night we made love under the stormy sky. I curled my arms around his neck and snuggled against his body, nuzzling my nose against his neck. I indulged in his scent and relaxed in his embrace. I was laughing even as we kissed and kissed again, not getting enough of each other. I felt happy, so happy that my heart lept out of my chest and bursted like a firework.
After a month he comitted suicide. It was a sudden shock, that left me dead inside for all these months. I gave up everything for him, we had our future planned out together and suddenly I was alone.
"Please don't leave me" I whispered through tears, once the realization of his death sank in. That night I felt agonizing terror, which made me shake uncontrollably. My heart was aching and longing for his presence.
"Please!" I screamed, collapsing on the floor and sobbing until dawn. He left a note quoting Gattaca "They say every atom in our bodies was once part of a star. Maybe I'm not leaving. Maybe I'm going home". And a letter. A letter signed to me. When I held it I felt like he is still alive, whispering to me things he hasn't said before. I had a piece of him in my hand, a piece that is still unfamiliar to me. I slowly opened the letter and started reading.
From the moment I met you in that park, I knew I could write a book about you. You had your legs crossed like a lady, although you were only 5 years old. I'm sorry, but I am not shaped to be loved. Everytime you touched me I felt pain and a reminder of every abuse my father has ever experimented on me. I love you dearly, you were my moon that could brighten up the darkest hour.
It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.
I drove down to his father's house and started kicking the door, throwing rocks at the windows, screaming and crying. His father opened the door, looked at me and calmly said:
"I'm sorry for your loss" closing the door behind him.
"He was YOUR son! You bastard!" I threw another rock, this time smashing his kitchen window.
Some people smoke, others drink, and others fall in love. Each one dies from a different way. I knew I should have asked him about his household life. About his family. I knew I should have kissed him longer before he left. Maybe I could of stopped him. I couldn't stop blaming myself, all I wanted to do was stay anchored in my bed, with the comforting sadness that left me drowning in my own grief. I couldn't understand why he did what he did and gradually, I started being mad at him. I was going through the stages of grief and I found so much logic in my questions regarding his death, but no answers. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night with tears streaming down my face, because he was in my dream. Sometimes I would walk out of the house and just run, run as fast as I could, eventually collapsing and crying.
After 5 months and 3 days.
His gravestone had a little picture of him embedded at the corner. No flowers, just a letter I brought him. It said:
It will always be you. Even if I had a chance to pick anyone, I would wake up every morning and choose you. I want you, I need you and I crave you. I look back and realise that I clung on when I should have let go. When I let go, I found myself clung on for my dear life. And when I look in the mirror, all I can see is a woman I could have been if you were still here. There is no escape, the whole world is drenched in these memories of you. After you nothing was enough, they could have given me the world and I still would miss the space you left unfilled.
You said you could write a book about me, but I can't even write a short story about you without throwing up and crying.
I will always love you,
I hear someone running towards me, police sirens wailing in the distance. My mother calling my name, lost in panic.
I take out a gun from my purse.
I hear my mother shriek.
© Copyright 2016 Milda. All rights reserved.
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