Dear Future Husband

July 5, 2019

Dear my one,

I'm writing to you from the beautiful Malibu fucking California and despite the blazing sun and salty air, I feel like a dirty dishrag.

I hoped so badly that once I got here I would be distracted from the immense guilt and depression eating away at my chest and be able to enjoy myself, but it's been 3 days of sitting inside this nice ass beach house watching Netflix and feeling like shit.

I've been telling everyone I have a migraine and don't feel well while they go out and sit on the beach or walk around the town and they've bought it. My mom sends me off with a "There's food in the fridge, feel better, I love you." before throwing on her sunglasses and running off with the rest of the beach bound family.

I considered miraculously healing from my migraines and forcing myself to get outside and try to enjoy myself, but I just can't work up the nerve. I think about it, but every time I do it's like a little voice in my head saying "You don't deserve to be happy after what you did to Alina." And I believe it every time.

I still haven't talked to her, or anyone for that matter, and I feel like the issue is just sitting inside me simmering, soon it will be to a boil, and then it will either burn up and leave a mark inside me or just burst, and I can't decide which one is worse.

Today was like every other, I woke up, had some cereal, settled into the couch, and said goodbye to my mom when April came out of her room in a skimpy bikini with her arms and legs all greasy from tanning oil and crossed her arms as she just stared at me.

"Can I help you?" I muttered.

"Mom might buy your bullshit, but I don't." She said, coming to sit down on the couch next to me. She ripped the remote from my hands and turned off the TV.

"April, can you please just leave me alone?" I begged, too tired to be angry.

"What is your problem? You were like this when we left too and I thought for sure you would cut it out once we got here." She said as she tossed the remote aside.

"Well you were wrong." I muttered, pulling out my phone and playing with the ringer switch. "My head hurts okay? Just go to the beach, I'm going to rest."

She laughed. "The only migraine you have to deal with is me, okay? And I have left you alone almost this whole trip so you're going to tell me what's wrong or else I'm going to tell mom you're the one that's been drinking all the vodka." She said as she rubbed her bloodshot eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "Mom would never believe that, she knows how I feel about alcohol."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "We'll see about that. Come on, Grant, just tell me what's wrong. Is it because of Rick? Because, honestly, if you get him drunk enough he just falls asleep."

"It's not Rick."

She thought for a second. "Is this about lacrosse?"

"No, April, I'm over that, and I'm fine I just don't feel well."

"Are you afraid of sharks? Because it's nowhere close to shark season and I'm more afraid of them than you are, believe me."

"Oh my god, April, no."

She looked at me for a minute so intensely that I couldn't make eye contact with her because I was worried that she would break me, but it was useless because she did that anyway. "It's Alina, isn't it?"

All of the saliva in my mouth dried up while my muscles went rigid. I hadn't heard her name in days except for in my own mind, and having someone bring her up was terrifying. "N-No." I replied unconvincingly.

"It is, isn't it?" She said, her tone turning softer. "Did you two break up?"

"I said no!" I replied angrily. "April, leave me the fuck alone!" I got up and headed towards my room.

"Keeping this to yourself is the worst possible thing you could do right now." She said, making me stop in my tracks. "Look, I've broken up with plenty of guys, and some of them I really liked and I've been in your shoes before. It hurts like hell and you feel like you can't go on sometimes. You think moping around letting yourself be sad is what you're supposed to do but it's not, Grant. You can talk to me, I'll help you through this."

"I don't want to talk." I said, not turning around.

"Fine." She sighed. "Whatever the reason was, whether you broke up with her or she broke up with you, it's not worth being miserable and you have to try to get over it, and you honestly have the perfect opportunity to. We're in Malibu! There's sunshine and the ocean and hot girls in bikinis and you can just relax and enjoy yourself, Grant. I know how much you love to surf, so please, throw on some swim trunks and come to the beach with me today and just let go of everything."

The voice in my head kept telling me I didn't deserve to let go. I didn't get to let go of this. I didn't get to be happy, but I wanted so badly to try, and if anything April was saying was true, then I needed this. I should at least try to push away the voices and get over this because I was going to have to at some point. I broke up with her for a reason, so it was useless to keep going around like this acting guilty.

I turned around. "One hour. If I don't want to stay after that, you can't force me to."

"Fine." She said, standing up. "One hour."

So here I am, sitting in swim trunks about to try and get over this. Fighting the guilt and the sadness in an attempt to return to the real world.

Without Alina.

-Grant