The One Who Got Away is Back

Memory 7 ♡ Overcast Face with 100% Chance of Rain

"Are you okay?"

No.

I turned my back to him and tried to get my shit together. But the more I told myself that I was fine, that I was strong, that I was used to being alone, ignored by my parents, left behind by my friends and still standing, the worse I felt. My arms went around me, trying to offer me comfort.

It didn't work, but maybe throwing my phone against the wall would. Except I needed it and couldn't afford to buy a new one. I was up to my neck in debt and still barely making ends meet.

With a shaky voice I said, "Thanks for the rescue back there, but I'm okay. You can go back to class."

Miguel appeared before me, arms folded and a clear are you shitting me look. "You're crying, how's that the same as being okay?"

I wiped my face, but new salty streams of tears trickled down my cheeks further proving his point.

"Look, I honestly just need a good cry," I said, voice trembling because my chin continued quivering. "Guys hate crying women and I don't want to put you through that, especially because-" I cut myself off from finishing that sentence. But I meant to say because we weren't close friends or anything.

"Anyway, please go."

"No," he said.

I spluttered, "What?"

"I'm not one of those guys who runs away from my friends when they're obviously having a difficult time." Then he looked around and because it was still pouring outside he pointed at a corner against the wall, far from the classroom door. "Let's sit."

I was a bit stupefied as he joined me on the floor in silence, just waiting until I let it all out. Asking no questions. Giving no empty advice. Miguel just... waited for me to be ready. That was a type of kindness I hadn't experienced in my life and it filled my chest up. All the emotions came out with ugly sobs. I raised my knees up and put my face in between them. My jeans had begun drying up, but now were soaking up the tears and who knew what else. Miguel's hand was on my back, rubbing circles and giving me gentle pats that actually did help through the hiccups.

In all these months I hadn't cried so hard a single time and I was angry with myself that I couldn't hold it any longer. Nothing good was going to come out of me crying. If anything it sapped me off the energy I needed to get things done, keep going. Pull myself up from my bootstraps. That was how I rolled, no matter what blows life threw at me I stood back up and kept going. But this one? This one cut deeply past all the walls I built around my heart, to the softest part of it. This was the moment I understood that to my parents I was nothing but a bargaining chip. Not their child, someone they loved and had to protect. But almost like an acquaintance.

Realizing that I'd grown up my entire life without love was killing me.

Miguel's arm tightened around my shoulders and I burrowed into his chest. I didn't know how much time passed. I heard steps come and go and figured class must be over. The rain slowed down to a soft pitter patter and I slowed down to a few sniffles here and there. That was when self consciousness took over and I pulled away.

"Uh, sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he said, leaning back against the cool wall. "Would you like to share what the problem is?"

I realized that through all my crying I hadn't said a word. I fidgeted with the hem of my damp blouse, wondering how to even say something that didn't sound like it came from a petulant child in mid tantrum. My hair had come loose from the messy bun I'd put it in, and I set out to fix that just to have something to do.