SONDER. timothée chalamet

chapter twenty four

kenny's mother asked if i financially stable, if i had enough money for my own home, to stand alone.

truth is, i was completely ready to move on my own and i had a lot of money, just not without kenny.

i wanted kenny to live with me, but overtime her condition got worse, she'd cry sometimes asking to be left alone, she would have these panic attacks in the middle of the night while i held her tight, not knowing how ill comfort her. but i tried, running my hands through her hair telling her it'll be okay.

but today was bad, really bad. she forgot my name.

and her mother didn't think it would be a good idea for her to live with me, she wanted kenny, to take care of her, she promised me she'd keep an eye out for her.

i couldn't believe she was moving away, she was moving far. a few states away, from jersey to new york.

her mother told me, it was okay to move on. but i refused. i was not ready for that step.

kenny when life is better, somehow. I'll find you. I'll come to new york and find you.

i go up kenny's room which what felt like the last time i'll ever be in there,

her suitcase and mines both next to each other.

she grabs the book she used to write in, she begins to read it, page by page, she was reading in since the morning, over and over again.

she had lost her last memory, that memory being my name.

"why was the boy so mean to her?" she asked me, reading the journal she wrote.

"what boy?"

she narrows her eyes back down at the book, "his name was timothée,"

"he was an asshole, selfish, and, bitter person," i say, "he was full of himself. entitled, rich. bastard," i say with regret, everything i've done to her was probably in that book.

everything i've done.

"i don't think that," she says,

"why not?"

she closes the book, "timothée was just as damaged as the girl," she says quietly, "i think he was a good person with a broken past, just like her,"

i nod in disagreement, "he was a bad person, he shouldn't have bullied her,"

"i think he helped her break her shell, nobody would pay attention to that girl, no one even remembered her name, or notice she was a person, but he did," she says,
"she was able to express her emotions and speak for herself because of him. he brought a side to her that she couldn't have done by herself,"

"he could've broken her shell in a better way, kinder way,"

"i think it was meant to be like that, i mean it all worked out in the end? right?" she glared at the page, "this book doesn't have a 'the end' though..."

"she never got the chance the finish it," i mumbled, i begin chewing on my lower lips, a tear escapes from my eyes,

when she looked at me now, it was different. she had no idea who i was—which hurt most. i was a stranger to her eyes, her beautiful eyes i was still in love with.

it's true, i did end up losing everyone i've ever loved. maybe that was my luck. but she was my greatest punishment, my bittersweet tragedy.

she notices the missing page, her fingers run down the inside spine of the book.
the page i took months ago, the one i threw on the ground and publicly humiliated her about. this feeling burned me alive, the guilt of doing this to someone i loved—was killing me.