Broken Strings

A N D R E W

"Life went on, but it was never the same again."

- d. j.

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Three Months After The Funeral

Andrew could remember every single thing. Everything.

She liked red roses. Bouquets of red roses. And strawberry ice cream. With sprinkles. City lights and starry nights. Her favorite color was a sky blue. Sometimes lavender. Her coffee, she always put milk in it. And movies, she'd read the same books and watch the same movies over and over again.

Whenever she was happy, she'd bite down on her lips, making it seem as though she was nervous instead. And when she'd cry.

He knew that better than anything else.

For it seemed that all he'd ever done was made her cry.

Yet, now, he could remember everything.

But the thing was, he didn't want to remember. He didn't want her to be some memory. He wanted her there, with him. He wanted to hold, to hold her and be able to touch her. He wanted to kiss her, over and over again.

And maybe, maybe more than anything he wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to prove that he still did.

But he couldn't.

Because she was long gone.

He crouched down, sitting next to her grave, placing the bright red roses on the ground.

"I miss you, Anisha."

He closed his eyes, turning and facing away from the dull sun. His voice cracking, wavering with heartbreak.

"I really miss you. I can't do it. This, all of this, I can't do this."

He stared at the tombstone, his vision blurred with tears. Crying for the woman he'd loved and lost.

"Mira, she really misses you too. She thinks you're a star. Every night before she goes to sleep, she talks to the stars. I...I still read to her every night." He let out a gentle laugh, a pathetic laugh, remembering the times that he'd watch Anisha read a story to Mira. And Mira, she could instead tell her mother a story. "Her vocabulary and sentences are getting better. But she still makes up random words sometimes."

"And She...she...she's still obsessed with Cinderella. You know her blue night light, she broke it the other day and now she wants a new Cinderella one."

"God, fuck Anisha, I can't do this." His chest tightened, broken hearted as he picked a rose, pulling it away from the bouquet he'd placed at her grave.

Picking the petals, he scattered them around, throwing them. Destroying the beautiful red rose.

That was all he ever did.

Destroy and hurt. Everything that was in his way.

"Ryan doesn't even talk to me. That's not it. I just, I don't know how to help him." He mumbled, aware of his strained relationship with his son. "His grades have been dropping. It's not just his math grade; it's his English grade and Art too. I don't know how but he's failing art. I'm meeting with his math teacher on Thursday."

"I...I don't know what to tell him. I'm not a good role model." He looked at the green stem in his hands, no thorns.

"You said you wanted Mira to be nothing like you. And I don't want Ryan to be anything like me." He confessed before tossing the stem aside, the petals he'd thrown aside, ruffled by the gentle wind. "There are enough fuck-ups like me. I...I've tried talking to him. And I get a few word answers.