Twenty-Four.
I think, on some level, Benn knew the second I walked into that door. He knew I hadn't come back for him, and that I wasn't going to stay either.
We didn't speak much. A whisper hello, a glance, a little smile. He closed his door behind us, and gathered me into his arms. I didn't object. I knew where he was going with this, and I knew he needed this.
&&&.
We lay there for a while, in silence. I was trying to find the right time to say something, and the right words to speak. I still didn't see how any words in the world could be the "right" ones, if you knew they would break someone's heart, and turn their life upside down.
"Why?" Benn asked, quietly.
I'd known he knew. But him saying so somehow made it worse. More painful, harder. More real.
"Because I need to move on. And I can't do that with you."
"Hmmm." He seemed to understand.
"There are things in my life that I can't erase. But I can't live with them anymore either."
"You're running."
"Maybe, in a way."
"Yeah."
"But I need to start over. You're a part of a part of my life that I can't deal with anymore."
He turned his head away from me a little, and closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry." I whispered.
It took him a moment to say something. A moment in which, I guessed, World War III was going on inside of him, as he tried to make a decision as to whether to fight for me to stay, or just let me go. Eventually, he sighed, turned his head back and looked deep into my eyes.
"I understand." He finally said, as I watched the water rise in his deep, chocolate eyes.
Our lips met for one last kiss, a kiss of utter agony, as tears rolled down both our faces. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but no one told me it'd be this hard.
&&&.
A mere hour or two after the sun rose, so did I. Mindful of not waking Benn up, I gathered what little belongings I still had around the place. Some clothes in his cupboard, a bracelet on his bedside table. I reached to the back of my neck to undo my necklace, and opened the heart locket. Inside was a little, plain silver ring, which used to sit on my pinkie finger. Benn got it for me from a gumball machine when we were about twelve. When it became too small, it landed in my locket, instead of the photo that most people put there. And through all our up's and down's, our on-and-off's, it always stayed.
But somehow, it felt right to leave it here. Well, as right as any of this felt, anyways.
I walked back to my house. It was a fairly warm morning, and I was in no real hurry. I felt oddly mellow; awfully calm- Absolute emotional drainage being the most probable cause. I could move into what would be my apartment in the city on Monday, but I had to work Sunday night, so I was going to spend the day packing stuff, sleep the night at the house, and head back to the city the next day.
Of course, in my most recent haste to leave, I'd left my keys on the kitchen counter again, so I spent the next half hour, undoubtedly watched by the annoying old lady across the street, trying to break into my house. I was surprised good old Mrs Silly-Old-Teabag (I highly doubt that was her actual name) hadn't called the police on me yet when I finally found the spare key. Maybe she realised I lived here- or was supposed to be living here, at least.
I spent the next few hours in my room, re-arranging things, deciding what to take and what not to take. Thankfully the apartment was pretty much fully furnished, so I didn't need to take much. It struck me how little I actually wanted to take. As I looked around, there really wasn't a lot that meant anything much to me. I sat in my window frame, realising how much I'd miss the few things that really did mean something to me around here. The window frame, for one. The new apartment didn't have anything like it, nor did it have anything like your gigantic window with the great view.
And then there was the cherry tree. I'd miss sitting in it, amongst the blossoms in spring, picking cherries in summer, watching the leaves fall in autumn, and thousands of little snowflakes settling in on the branches in winter. There was a sort of simplicity about these things that made me happy. When it came to the cherry tree, I loved change. The coming of every new season was refreshing, and the tree was beautiful in every one of them.
When it came to the window frame- it provided me with comfort; a little safe place, where I could sit and watch the world, and just be me- or at least try to figure out who "me" was. Somehow the cold glass helped me think, and in its own way assured my mind that everything would be alright, somehow, sometime.
I looked to my bedside table, and my eyes locked on the silver picture frame. I tried to look away again, but my mother's eyes caught my gaze, and stopped it from going astray. I stared at it for a while, as my mind vigorously fought the flood of memories that tried to enter it, and my gut desperately tried to remove the knife that had dug itself into it. I slowly shook my head. I didn't want this. I didn't want to feel this way anymore, ever.
I bit my lip and hopped out of the window frame. I angrily grabbed the frame and shoved it into my bedside table, before slamming the drawer shut. A voice began to enter my head. It was only a whisper, but it pierced right through my clouded, troubled mind.
"No, Mum." I screamed, as if she was right there. But it didn't help.
My mind, against my better judgement and will, wandered. It wandered back to that day that Mum didn't come home.
---
"So she's coming back tomorrow?" A naive young me asked my father. I was so hopeful.
"No, Rebecca."
"Tuesday then?"
"No." Dad shook his head.
I didn't understand.
"When, then?"
"Never."
I didn't understand "never" either. Never wasn't a well established concept in my mind yet. "Forever" to me was still somewhere in the time frame of about a month.
"Will she be back for my birthday?" I kept questioning.
She couldn't have just disappeared.
"No, Rebecca."
"When?"
"Never, Rebecca."
I cocked my head to the side, still more puzzled than hurt. Mum would never do that- or would she? She couldn't just not come home.
"Rebecca, Mummy has decided she isn't going to be living with us anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because she left. For somewhere better."
"Where is somewhere better?
"I don't know, I haven't been there yet."
"Can we visit her?"
"No. One day, maybe. But not soon."
I didn't understand. In a matter of minutes, someone had taken from me the one person in my life I trusted the most. The person in my life that I loved more than anything. In a matter of minutes, someone had taken from me my mother, my best friend, my role model, my everything.
I adored her, and in a matter of minutes, she was gone- for good.
---
My head cleared and reality returned. I was seventeen again, and alone in my room. The voice inside my head was still there, quietly nagging me to keep on thinking about her, about that day, about everything that happened. But I refused.
"No, Mum. You left me, just like that. Now I'm going to do the same to you."
I didn't want to remember anymore. I didn't want to hurt anymore. Even if it meant not feeling at all anymore.
&&&.
