Why does everything have to end? Why does something so perfect become so grievingly painful? Why should life continue, even though you have no reason to live? Why should we love? And then come out bleeding and broken? Why?
It was disgusting. How could they? How could he? He said he loved me. He said he cares for me. Then why is he kissing her? I should have probably figured that one out myself. It was so obvious. Of course. I’m not as good as her. I’m not as beautiful as her…for God’s sake, she was a model. I’m such a fool to believe he would love me. Not a fool. I was ambitious. He was a pianist, she was a model. Gosh, they’re perfectly matched.
It hurt so much. My heart was oozing with acid. And every beat, it spreads the pain. The pain trickles through my veins, and some of it would eventually escape through my eyes.
“Gracie? Gracie, we’re home,” a voice woke me up. Home. It had just been hours ago that my home was miles away from here. Home. I want to be there, to be with him. Home. No…this is my home now. I won’t ever return back there again.
“Gracie, honey, you need to eat something,” my mom pleaded. It had been three days. No one’s calling, no one’s coming, but I kept waiting.
“Gracie, please,” my mom begged at me once more. I stared forward, seeing nothing. My mind is somewhere far away from here, where my fickle love is staying. I stopped right there, like I hit a blank wall. I didn’t know exactly why. Maybe because I didn’t want to. But why would I not want to? Confusing. Very confusing.
My mom gave up eventually, seeing that I was totally unresponsive. I didn’t know how to spend my time since I’ve recently given up thinking and remembering. Thankfully, Jacob entered the room. I sat up. At least I would have someone to watch. I had no plans to talk. No, not now. Not yet.
“Eat something, Grace,” he said, lifting my bowl of now-tepid soup. I didn’t respond, naturally. But I was staring blankly at him. He sighed then took the spoon. He filled it with soup then held it in front of my mouth. This time, I stared at the spoon, not knowing what to do about it.
“C’mon. It’s your favorite. Cream of mushroom with parmesan. Yum,” he urged. I stared into the spoon for a long while. Then, after that long while, he put it back to the bowl. “You know what scares me the most, Gracie?” he asked. My questioning eyes found their way back to his face. “You don’t cry. You never cry. That’s what scares me. It helps when you cry, you know. It eases your pain. I do not understand why you are holding on to it. And I do not understand why you won’t even talk. It hurts us to see you like this. Gracie, you’ve got to let go. You have to move on.”
I felt something hot and wet flow on my cheeks. I don’t know how, or why, or when it started, but I was crying. I am actually crying. The last time I did this was on the plane. I really am crying. But the hurt was not on my eyes. It was on my chest, concentrated on the very center of it. My lips formed to say the words I never thought about saying. It was like my mouth was detached from the rest of my body; like it has its own mind.
“I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can. I…it hurts so much. I don’t think I can move on,” I whispered. My voice was breaking and my throat was swollen. It was thick with the tears that are falling from my prickling eyes.
Suddenly, I was in my brother’s arms. He kissed my hair and rubbed my back gently.
“Of course you can. I’ll help you. We will help you. We will help you find someone who will make you forget all about him – ”
“I don’t think I would let myself find another one. I don’t know what to do…I …I …” I mumbled, interrupting him. Then, I can’t contain it anymore. The rivers of tears I have saved up flowed freely on my face, and dripping on my shirt and knees. Like he said, it helped. At least the pain was lessened. Maybe I could. I really wish I could.
