SIXTY EIGHT

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BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

Things changed after that night.

I believed that Will and I had been brought together for a reason. And after his stark rejection, I felt lost and unsure of everything all over again. Hope had been ignited inside of me, and then he had to go and put out the flame.

Seeing Will again had brought back so many suppressed emotions I thought I had dealt with. It was like a tsunami of feelings coming at me full force. I didn't know how to handle it. I had put myself out there, desperate and vulnerable, only to be shut down by the one person who meant the most to me.

I didn't know how I could continue on with this engagement, knowing that in two months' time, I'd have to walk down the aisle and say my vows to a man that wasn't Will. The thought itself was paralyzing.

I went to Dominic's place on Wednesday night. It wasn't even necessarily that I wanted to see him, but I needed some sort of escape. He was always there for me when I needed him in a way that no one else could be. I found solace in his presence. So yet again, I found myself venturing to him.

I thought that being with Dominic would be a good distraction, but if anything, it only made things worse. It reminded me of everything I'd never have, and how truly off-course my life was going. I broke down crying and poured my heart out to him. He held me and consoled me, but I couldn't help but pity him. He'd never truly know what it was like to be me. He could love me as much as he felt possible and I still could never be the woman he needed.

I called in sick to work the next day. I stayed in bed for the majority of the day. Made myself a green tea which I loathed. Attempted to go for a walk to clear my head. Ended up calling Holden simply to hear the sound of his voice. Afterwards, I sat in the kitchen and stared at the wall for a long time. I was used to having my head filled with erratic thoughts at all hours of the day, but this time, there was nothing. Everything was blank. I couldn't think, I couldn't speak, I couldn't eat.

Ben came home later that night and I tried avoiding him as best as I could. But then he gave me flowers that he had bought for me earlier, as well as a mini chocolate cake.

"What's this for?" I asked, completely caught off guard.
He shrugged. "Nothing in particular. I know you've been feeling down lately, so I wanted to cheer you up. Remind you how special you are and how much you mean to me."
I stared at the flowers and then looked back up at him, his empathetic eyes and soft smile. Fuck, he was such a good guy. So kind and endearing and willing to forgive everything I had ever put him through. He didn't need someone like me. He deserved so much better.
"Thank you, Ben," I said, trying not to cry.
"I love you. Always know that."
"I love you too."
"Do you want to do anything tonight? We could go bowling. Or go to the movies?"
"I'm a little tired right now," I said, and it wasn't a lie. "Perhaps another night?"
"Of course." He smiled at me and leaned in to kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of him. Then I told him I was going to bed early and said goodnight.

______

It was Saturday evening and I was in the spare room writing in my journal. Writing had always been a therapeutic tool for me. It was the one thing in my life that I was confident about. I could sit down at the computer and let the words pour out of my brain. It helped me organize my thoughts and express everything I needed to say. And so, I began writing.

Saturday May 11, 2019

Everything happens for a reason, I always say. Well then how come I can't think of a reason for the things that are happening to me right now? I've always tried to maintain an optimistic outlook towards life and do my best to smile. But it gets so difficult sometimes that I fear I'll never again find that happiness I once embodied.

I know it's just me, I know it's just my mind. I torment myself and believe things that aren't necessarily true. I overreact and overanalyze. I yell at the people who love me, even though they're just trying their best to be there for me. But I somehow manage to fuck up every good thing I've ever had.

I feel paralyzed right now, like I'm at a standstill in life. I can see the motions happening around me. I know that the sun still rises and life still goes on. Yet somehow, I am standing still, more trapped than ever before. I used to want big things in life. I had so many goals and dreams for myself. But I guess I lost myself along the way. I am not the same person that I used to be. And everything that I once aspired to become has slowly dwindled. I don't even know what I truly want anymore. I wanted to make a difference in this world. But how am I ever supposed to do that if I can't even make a difference in my own life?

I feel alone and isolated. There's no one out there who truly knows me or understands me. Sure, people can claim to know me, but no one actually does. And that's all I've ever wanted in life, to have people understand who I am as a person. I want people to know the thoughts before they leave my brain. I want people to help me with things based on what they already know. I want someone who won't questions by actions or behaviors, or wonder the reasoning's behind why I do things. I need someone who will just accept them because that is who I am.

It's funny, people have said that I'm like a puzzle, implying that I'm difficult to comprehend. I've never understood that. It's quite simple, really. Just listen to me speak. Be there for me. If you do those things, then you will know. You will understand.

But the truth is, no one ever will. There's only one person out there who does. And if it is I who needs to be solved, then it is he who holds the key.

I remained sitting at the computer desk for a while, simply reading over everything I had written in the past few months. I could see my own down-fall, observe the patterns and mistakes I had made. None of this mattered anymore. I screwed up everything.

That's when I heard a faint buzzing sound. I stopped what I was doing and looked around. I spotted my phone on the bed and it wasn't ringing. That's when I realized: it was the burner.

I got up and went to the bookshelf, removed The Pride and the Prejudice. The burner phone was buzzing back there. I knew it was probably just one of Tony's clients who needed a late-night fix. I picked it up and answered the call.

"Yes?" I said into the phone.
"Catalaina?"
I froze. None of them knew my real name. I was strictly known as CJ.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"It's me. Will."
I felt my body unclench at the sound of his name. Relief and confusion washed over me.
"Why are you calling?" I asked defensively. "To tell me off? To tell me how wrong I am and that you can never see me again?"
"No," he said quickly. "I'm calling because... I can't make it stop. I can't stop thinking about you."
My heart nearly melted at the words.
"And I've tried not to give in and call you because I'm trying to be a moral man who keeps his word. But I don't know what else to do. Maybe I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice. I don't know."
"Will," I said, barely above a whisper. "I miss you."
It was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I miss you too."
"Can you meet me?"
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
"I can't tonight. But what about tomorrow?"
"Okay. I can do tomorrow. What time?"
"Eight o'clock."
"Okay. Meet me behind the old shopping center in Milford. That's the halfway point between us."
"Okay," he said.
"Okay."
Silence again.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I said.
"Until then," he said.

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