Dear Adelaide

Chapter ten: Box of Shocks

Adelaide

The past week has been a struggle beyond measures of any levels of pain I have experienced. I sit in the center of my bedroom; curtains draw to keep the sun away from my dying skin. I just want absolute silence as I stare at a shoebox I had painted a rosy pink.

My hands sit nervously on my lap, and the room absorbs the despair that leaks from my eyes. I've never felt more alone than today.

Because I miss him more after I cleansed the memories with excessive alcohol. Embarrassment rises in my chest as I remember fragments of the things I had said to Silas, knowing my anger wasn't all towards his absence... but the absence of someone else.

Today would have made four years. Four years of friends turned to lovers. I feel ashamed to have allowed memories that no longer exist to break me so easily. My hand moves to the lid of the box and carefully lifts it open.

I see bundles of polaroid pictures, notes, cards, and other things that made my life whole. I start with the polaroid pictures of dates, formals, and late nights. I don't understand why I torment myself in this manner, but I cling to the easily disposable photographs like they are the air I need to breathe.

When I was in middle school, my parents were very conflicted as to how they would split custody. My mother had moved a few hours away from my father's home. I didn't want to move schools, especially not into a different city. I told my mother it was because I liked my friends, and I didn't want to leave home. Mother knew how many divorces can psychologically damage a child, so she didn't argue much and allowed me to stay with my father throughout the week but had me every weekend and break. I agreed.

Truthfully, I didn't stay because I loved the school. I stayed because of a boy. Even at a young age, I was willing to give up everything for this boy. Being young means being naïve, and I made choices based on my heart, not my mind.

Isaiah Millers. Isaiah and I had been friends since kindergarten. He was my best friend. I was willing to live with my father to make sure our friendship was cherished and preserved. He was happy to hear that.

Middle school came and went. We both grew in many ways than one. The girls started noticing him more when he started playing football. The guys started noticing me more when my curves settled onto my body. Isaiah was flattered by the attention he received. I was never fond of attention because the only attention I have ever sought was his.

My love for him was silent, but it grew. The worst kind of love.

Freshman year, Isaiah got a girlfriend over the summer. I was heartbroken to see the boy I once knew to start changing for a girl who can't see him the way I do. So, I told my mom I was thinking about moving back with her. Sure, she was ecstatic to have me live in an enormous penthouse with her.

Isaiah found out about me moving.
Isaiah came to the front of my house at 10:02 pm, on a school night. I remember the time because that was when my heart stopped for a solid minute. I snuck him inside while my father was asleep.

Isaiah was crying.
Isaiah said my name in a way I never heard.
Isaiah begged for me to stay.
Isaiah told me he loves me.

I was fourteen and he was fifteen, saying words only adults in movies have said to each other.

The next day, I told my mother I changed my mind. I told her I was being impulsive because I was in a fight with one of my friends. She didn't hold anything against me, and she let me stay.

Isaiah and I started dating two weeks after he broke up with his girlfriend. And those two weeks turned into months. Sophomore year came, and we introduced each other to our parents. My parents were upset. I didn't care. All I knew is that I loved Isaiah, and he loved me.