Living a Story

“I’m here to see Becky,” her voice quivering. 

“Sit over there, she’ll be with you in a minute,” she pointed to the wall without even look up from the desk. “What’s your name? 

“Rita Scixe,” she looked toward her boyfriend in disbelief. I’m not here for a medial appointment, she thought. Feeling tossed aside, she found her seat. 

As they waited in the cold uncomfortable chairs and sad atmosphere they looked over pamphlets. The wall was decorated with different pamphlets for different situations. 

She picked up one about child support and sat back down with her boyfriend. “Oh so that’s how much my father should be paying eh? I mean he has his own business he could be paying a bit more than $125 per kid..” 

“Hunny it’s ok you don’t need to worry about more than you already are.” 

“I know, love, I just want my mind off of this.” 

“Rita, relax okay? I’m here, and focusing on a different problem isn’t going to solve this one,” he grabbed her hand and caressed it softly. “I know that this isn’t easy but I  know you can do this,” he kissed her hand wrapped his arms around her from the side and held her close. He felt horrible for not being there from the start. 

Rita began tearing up as she held his arms closer. 

“Hey Rita, how are ya?” Becky called out. 

She felt her insides crumble as she heard Becky’s cold voice ring through her ears. Payman’s arms slid and seperated from her. 

 “I’m great thanks,” she heard herself say but that’s far from what she wanted to say. 

The meeting started the same way it did the last time but with a new crown attorney. This one seemed less experienced and less personable than the previous and somehow she felt let down in a way she couldn’t explain to herself. She had a great lawyer to represent her just as the accused had but the new one has her unsettled. 

The crown asked her the same questions the prior crown had asked her only months ago and gave her more information but Becky had retold her everything from the start. Rita’s tongue became sharper the longer she was in the room. She felt tense and uneasy. 

“Would you like to watch your statement now, or come back  another time?” 

“I’m already missing placement to be here so I’d rather get it out of the way now.” 

“Well Idk how long it is so you might be here for a little while longer.” 

Why do you suddenly care about how I feel? Why are you trying   push me out of your office? So many things crossed her mind and it just didn’t compute. 

Watching her statement wasn’t  as unbearable as she thought. As she listened to herself give the story at the police station, she was very confident. Rita was proud of herself. And all the details were exactly as she remembered them now. She sat for a moment legs crossed on the old couch and hugging a throw pillow tightly, she whispered to herself, hands on her face and tears rolling down her cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Rita, I’m so sorry.” 

She knew it wasn’t her fault, but somehow felt she could have stopped it earlier. She could have not let it happen. She could have said more could have done more. 

“It’s not your fault,” Payman whispered. They sat in silence in the car going home. “I love you so much. Be strong, my love, I know you can do this. I’m here when you need a crutch, please don’t turn away from me.” 

Rita grabbed his hand on the gear shift and held it. “I promise to talk to you, just silence is nice sometimes.” 

“I know you’re thinking about it Babe, just don’t leave me in the dark about it.”  

“I just don’t understand how it’s okay to be revictimized by the system. First it takes almost an entire year for this to happen and then when  it does, I’m trying get into the work force. And I’m not even in this city anymore so it’s costing me an arm and a leg to get back here and when I wanted to get the date pushed back they both looking at me like deer in the headlights and it’s like please tell me how it’s okay to force me into trial on a date I didn’t pick? It’s ridiculous.” 

“Hun I understand your frustration and I don’t know what to say about it but I love you.” 

“And this is why I didn’t say anything. I hate making you feel useless.” She wore a grim and disappointed look on her face as she stared out the window. 

“You don’t make me feel useless. Hun I want to know how you’re feeling, thank you for telling me.” He put his hand on her thigh just above the kneecap and rubbed it gently. 

She felt more at ease but still sick to her stomach. 

She knows a chapter of her life is coming to a close, 1 and a half weeks to the spring season finale of 2016. 


Honest Secret

The tungsten light emitted from the lamp next to her bed was barely enough to highlight the area of her queen sized bed. The room was in shadows as she laid herself to rest. As she texted her lover to confirm plans she felt pushed away and in an instant she realized he didn’t love her. He was still caught up on his first girlfriend. And the tears began rushing down. Dripping rapidly from her porcelain cheeks. Her bright green eyes strained red with the emitted salt water tears. As she received a call, she believed in a glimmer of hope until she asked, “do you still love her?” 

There was a very long paus, he broke it first “But I love you too.”

She hung up on him. She felt robbed of her desire.

How was it fair that she took him away from her just for showing up at his house uncalled for. Just for funzies as he’d call it. He says that he didn’t cheat on her but in all honesty he might as well have. She, that woman, is still his first choice and if she ever did come back he would have chosen her and that’s what hurts the most. 


“There’s a pain in my heart I know not how to heal.”

A pained expression glazed over her face. She stared long at the front of the bus, I stayed quiet next to her. Listening.  

“It’s so hard to make it look like I’ve got everything under control when nothing is fine. But it’s so saddening when people don’t understand. When they don’t see me floundering, drowning under the weight.” 

I painfully listened. I wanted put my arm around her but I carefully looked at her solemnly. “I care about you. I am and will always be here for you.” 

“While I was at work the other day, this middle aged man, maybe around forty was talking to me yesterday and he told me that my boyfriend is lucky to have me. I don’t even have a boyfriend and how can he even be lucky enough to be with me if I don’t even feel lucky to be me?” 

This is one of many the conversations I had and will have with myself. 

River flow

“I love you,” Jessie whispered, barely loud enough for David to hear him. He looked intently at David, holding on for a reply. He gently bumped his hand into David’s, until he held it gently. David continued to look at the sight he was brought to see. His jaw dropped as he saw the number of waterfalls across the vast valley. Birds flew around them and deer stood in the meadows far enough away that they couldn’t make out what they were without binoculars. “Jessie, how did you find this place?” He looked towards him, his white teeth shining in the sun. His face abrasive with the growing dark hair on his cheeks and around his mouth. The two stood upon a cliff with a river swimming along side them until dropping off into a wide waterfall. The river was surprisingly deep to become so wide and shallow and throw so much water off down the cliff, “It’s so beautiful.” “I wanted a place we could call ours,” Jessie said sweetly as he laid out a blanket upon the rocks. The mist was barely strong enough to dance upon their skin. They sat upon the blanket and Jessie began opening his backpack to reveal peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and water to quench the thirst that was building up over the long hike up the side of the mountainous hill.  Nervous, David spoke, “I love you too, Jessie.” and nuzzled his face against his as they sat side by side watching the sun set over the other side of the valley. Jessie slowly turned his head toward David and leaned in as Jessie had. Their eyes closed and together their lips touched ever so slowly they caressed each other and let the night take over.

Holding on to You

She tries so hard to let go. She hid her tears, put away her fears and pretended that none of it existed. She could go most of the day with a positive outlook, a happy attitude. Be a different person. But when she was alone, when she was with people she thought could handle her when she couldn’t even handle herself; she talked. All she wanted to do was talk, that or run away and sometimes she would. Not because she was afraid of who she was with but because she feared that they couldn’t, that they wouldn’t follow her. They wouldn’t even watch they’d turn off in another direction and leave her for dust. Her mind spiraling in many directions. Feeling herself fall into despair, knowing she could be ok if it went a different way. She tried so hard to be happy and she was happy, she was glad he would no longer worry about her, that he was ok about this. But she wasn’t. She was okay that he went his way and she went hers but secretly inside all she wanted was for him to tell her everything would be ok and kiss her once more and change his mind and stay. She wanted him so desperately to show he cared for her but he couldn’t. And she knew she’d be more disappointed if he had stayed. They would have broken up eventually and she knew that, she just wasn’t ready to hear it today. Today all she wanted to hear was that she was loved. She wanted a hug and wanted to fall asleep next to him. She wanted so desperately to just have everything fit together like a nice little puzzle. She wanted life to work in her favour just this once, but on such a day with the weather as bipolar as her personality; reflecting her thoughts and feelings with silver clouds followed by torrential downpour, she knew nothing was going to. She knew that it always gets worse before it would ever get better. And that’s exactly what had happened. Her grandfather in the hospital – his condition getting worse with each passing day, having next to no social life as it is, feeling so dark and so alone in her mind, convulsing with each regret, bursts of tears between customers at her day job and restless nights, whether she liked it or not. Nothing could help her. she doesn’t even know how to help herself and maybe that was her problem. Maybe that’s why she grows so attached to people so quickly and why it hurts when it feels like someone is ripped away like an adhesive bandage from her heart.  The tears she cries are only a mask for the pain she carries day to day and you’re lucky if you get to see them. See she’s secretive and lonely. She hides and shies away, she doesn’t want you to worry but makes you worry in doing so. She really is ok, she just doesn’t know it yet. She just keeps holding on to life.

Quiet is Violent

“Fine I’ll say it, I feel alone.” The young girl spoke softly. She didn’t look much older than ten, and that’s when I realized that these problems really do start young. Although with more people talking about why they’re here, it all seems to blend together. It is as though every story is the same with some twist like a mother instead of father or a sibling thing or school. It’s all just it’s all so bland. It’s disappointing that these people can’t seem to see how much their family truly loves them.

Here, I am. A 15-year-old boy with an eating disorder. Who would have thought, that a 15-year-old boy would have self-esteem issues? My mum didn’t. My mum, she’s great, but sometimes she just has this thing where she’d rather just turn out the lights and go to bed. It happened frequently; especially at the dinner table. I would start off telling her things about school, or stuff that I did or saw during the day, and things that I’ve been thinking about; just while we ate together because that was when we spent our family time together. But suddenly she wouldn’t hear me anymore or at least tuned me out. She was still there, just, not with me. She’d continue smoking her cigarette and just stare blankly out the window. She wouldn’t eat any of her own food and I’d often plead with her to eat but I knew she couldn’t keep it down anymore than I could stop myself from puking my own guts out. She was gentle and I knew there was something behind that stare. We knew my father wasn’t ever coming back. It was hard to move forward but harder to forget about. I’m sure it was in the front of her mind just as it always was in mine. It was a sudden accident. No one truly saw it coming. He was a great guy, most people loved him, or at least the ones that truly knew him. He was a war veteran, an honest man. He loved us very much and we loved him too, and to know he’s gone- he shouldn’t be gone, he should be here with us, he served his time in the army. He made it home.

“Why!? Why!? He did nothing wrong!” I had put my palms to my eyes, covering them from the light. Soft sobs escape my lips. I stop and regain control. It was a Wednesday. It was early too, because I was in my 3rd period class. My father was supposed to pick me up from school at 3:05 so that we could have father and son time. I wasn’t so keen on it at the time- I’d have rather been with my friends but I would keep that to myself from then on. I was called to the office in the middle of class and my biggest worry was that I would miss key details for the test the following week. I was told to sit in an office. I sat alone for only seconds but it felt like an eternity. Until my mother came into the room and sat in the chair facing mine.

“Why do you feel so Alone?” The counsellor questioned. The shrillness of the woman’s voice brought me back to the present. I felt cold and shivered a bit.

Can I leave yet?

“Mostly because I don’t feel listened to or heard, it’s always as though my opinion never matters to anyone and no matter how hard I try, no matter the topic I speak on, no one cares. And I feel like it’s a waste of time; trying to be heard. So instead, I’ve started doing this,” she motioned to her arm and peeled the sweater up to her elbow to reveal deep and shallow cuts in her wrist and forearm, “to sort of express myself. Or at least release my frustrations. Even when I scream the loudest of all my peers, I only sound as though I  am a mouse encased in a small box, preventing any noise from escaping. “

“You speak with great metaphors, do you happen to write? or perhaps just read a lot?”

“I write sometimes. I read more than I write though.”

“I would imagine your writing is remarkable. You speak quite well.”

“Thank you Mrs. Browning.”

Ugh, I dislike people who speak in metaphors. 

“Okay, next will be you, what’s your name fella?” She stared at me, waiting for me to say something. I’m not ready for this yet.

“Ok, uhm, Hi, I’m Jacob. I’m I don’t know, I’m here because, uhm-” I brush my sweaty palms through my coarse hair. I try to think of how to start without stealing a story from somebody else, without really talking about my home life.

“It’s okay Jacob take your time, and no one is judging you today.” The counsellor was quick with her words. I found it careless that she couldn’t wait for me to form a thought.

“Oh that’s not the problem, I’m just trying to figure out how to say what I want to say. I know I’ve sat quiet the whole time but my thoughts are just running rampant.”

The counsellor looked dumbfounded. She didn’t know how to respond to his clear distinction of feeling other than to say, “It’s normal that you feel that way.”

How would you know anything about what normal is; to me? or to the other people in this room, you know nothing about what it is we go through on a daily basis.

“I’m bulimic,” I knew to say that. I paused and realized my lips were still pursed open and so I closed them, before speaking again. I clear my throat. “It started about a year ago. I have self-esteem issues and always have. And I feel like the hatred inside me will spill out of my body every time I expel what is inside my body, and it does, but it always returns. It feels good once I’ve puked my guts out. It’s become an addiction. With the insults I receive daily, they reduce my self-worth to nothing, which makes it easier to harm myself and to continue with my regimen. And the compliments I get as a result of my addiction it just makes it worth the lack of food and the extreme workouts. While I do have a mother, who cares very much about me, she has not yet noticed what I’ve been doing and I try to keep it a secret from her. She’s the only true person in my life that I don’t want to hurt. She’s been through enough as it is.”

“While that is considerate, how would you feel if your mother found out?”

“Ashamed and embarrassed. It would kill me if I hurt my mother.”

“You seem to care about her a lot.”

“I do, I worry about her all the time. She doesn’t have anyone to make sure she’s okay, plus, she’s in a very harmful state.”

“Has she helped in any way toward your addiction?”

“Yes, and no. She helps enable it, that part is true but no I did not start throwing up because of her, if anything I feel more confident beside her. looking like this or previous to my new-found addiction.”

The counsellor had a puzzled look on her face. Trying to read it, it seems pained. I think she might actually care about my case. She stopped asking me questions. She kind of paused for a moment.

“I think he was our last, new person, if you’re new and haven’t spoken, raise your hand.”

If anyone hadn’t spoken up yet, it was hard to tell, except a young female down near the counsellor seemed distraught. I think she was new but I think she was too shy to speak up. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable in making her speak now, but if she feels cast aside, I don’t want to be a bystander either. Maybe I’ll run and try to catch up with her afterwards and we can talk.

“So everyone, I want you all to continue writing in your journals. This is how you’ll communicate with me, for anyone who is new, I will get you a correspondence book which you will bring with you to every session, which is currently every thursday at 4pm. You all may go, but make sure you see me first.” She got up and picked up the stack of paperback school journals and opened the door to the hallway. She allowed for the students to place the used journals on the desk and as the members approached the door, she placed a new journal in each group member’s hands.

As I followed the girl out of the room the counsellor asked me to meet one on one with her. “I think you have a lot to deal with Jacob, if you want, I am available for private counselling as well as group, so if you don’t want to share things with the group you can certainly share them only with me.”

“Thank you Mrs. Browning but I’m not really interested today. Let me think about it.” I kept my eye on the girl as she left the room but found it hard to find her once I got away from Mrs. Browning. I saw her run to meet an older woman, I figure it must be her mother but in truth it could be any which of her female relatives. As for me, I decide to go for a walk and hit the gym. The entire time being locked up in there was driving me crazy.

I put my iPod on shuffle and head out through the streets. The image of the girl implanted on my brain. Her long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. She had a fresh face, no make up and her hair looked more greasy than the other girls’. She looked frightened. But I put the thought away and focus on what’s in front of me. My personal fitness. And a school project but it isn’t due for another week, still it’s good to brainstorm.

At the gym I hit the locker room and get dressed in my workout gear, it’s not the best but I make it work for me. I notice a blue set of goggles on a blue lock. Oh great, Carson is here. I’ll probably get noticed even though I don’t want to be. I get into the weight room and it’s near empty, I hop on a tread-climber and start my stairs for warm up. My heart beating in my ears I step off and waddle my way over to the free weights and throw on a couple of 15’s to each side and find it a bit light so I throw on another 5 to each side and gives me a better work out. I do 12 reps. Feeling good I do some push ups and some crunches, moving on to step ups and the machines, then returning for some stretches and a 3 minute long plank. I take a quick shower and get back to the Locker room. I change and no issues. Carson’s goggles are now gone so I figure he’s swimming and I won’t run into him. Lucky me. 

As I step through the door to our house, I smell dinner on the stove. “Mum?!”

I don’t get a response and start to worry. I head to the kitchen immediately and find that a pot is boiling over so I turn it off, and head to the living room and I see her conked out on the couch. I fear she isn’t breathing, “Mum? Hey Mum? Wakies? Hey, Mum please wake up. I’m not asking come on.” My fingertips tap on her knee a few times before I finally bend down by her head to hear for her breathing and look for her chest to inflate and deflate with air. But it doesn’t. Her body is still warm but I panic, what do I do? I find my phone in my pocket and dial 911 and ask for an ambulance. My mother isn’t breathing, this can’t be happening, I’m beside myself; I can’t, this isn’t. Immediately cop cars arrive and soon after paramedics come bursting through the door.  I’m crumpled on the floor rocking back and forth next to her, holding her hand.

I’m asked to step aside but I find it hard to move, I come back to reality and I stand up, let go of her hand and move to the corner of the room and just watch. It’s so surreal. She’s taken away and I can’t come with her, Why can’t I go with my mother?

Suddenly I wake up. “Mom, are you ok?”

Teary eyed she looks up at me, “Yeah I’m ok, you’re the one that got hurt.”

“I look up and I can’t move my body. IV’s in my arm, a neck brace on. “What Happened? I remember being at the gym, I thought I made it home?”

“No hun, You got into a fight with Carson.”

“Who won?”

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, I think you should rather ask how he is.”

“Ok, well how is the jerk that’s bullied me my entire life?”

“He’s dead.”

My heart became heavy as though it were lead and fell into my stomach. “No, he isn’t, he can’t be-“

“You’re not going to jail, they’re not even going to press charges, because you were acting in defence. He jumped you when you were leaving your locker.” She’s distraught. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

“Mum, I love you. I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, I’m sorry too. I just, This is a lot, and I wish your father was here, he’d know just how to handle the situation. He’s been in so many himself. Gosh why did he have to go, and I was so close to losing you too.  You can’t ever do this again Jacob, I swear to god.”

I feel as though I’ve disappointed her, and in turn disappointed my father. I have the blood of another man on my hands and I have to live with that for the rest of my life.

How am I? What do I do? Maybe I should take up that counsellor’s offer. When I get out of here, of course. “Mum, What happened? Were there any witnesses? How did I end up like this, what did he do?”

She didn’t answer my questions right away. It seemed like everything just floated through the air. It was hard to really know how to move on with this.

A man in a white coat strode into the room. A stethoscope around his neck.

“Hello Jacob, how are you today?”

How do I answer this question? How does it look like I feel? “I’ve had better days.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that, now do you remember anything that happened yesterday?”

“The last thing I remember was coming home and looking for my mum, and I found her dead on the couch at home. So I called an Ambulance.”

The doctor shared a look with my mother, I’m not sure what it meant, but I’m sure they’ll be talking about me later.

“You must have been really roughed up there, son.”

Please don’t call me son. “Do know what happened?”

“I do, but you don’t need to know, not right now. Would you mind if I talked with your mother for a few minutes please?”

“No, go ahead.” They’re going to anyways, why ask? Whatever. I guess I really didn’t know what alone felt like until this moment right now. I miss my Dad. I wish he could talk with me now. I want to know he isn’t embarrassed by me. They seem to be taking a long time. Is my mum sobbing? oh god no. Please, I don’t want her to cry for me. I didn’t want this, I tried so hard. Please, Why?

My thoughts faded away and soon so did the light, the room began growing dark and I could keep my eyes open any longer.

“Son? Jacob,” 

“Yes, dad?”

“Jacob, I am proud of you, I am always proud of you. And this, what happened yesterday wasn’t your fault. I was there with you Jacob, I am always with you.” He gestured to my heart. 

“But Dad, I killed someone, and I don’t even remember a thing, but I feel so guilty. I never wanted to kill him, I just wanted him to learn his manners.” 

“I know, Son.”

“Dad, can you tell me what happened? No one else will and I think I should know.”

“I can’t tell you, but I can show you.”

And as he whispered those words to me a bright flash of light spurred through my optic nerves. I was back in the locker room, but this time I was a witness, I was watching myself, as though it were a dream. Carson ran up behind me and rammed my head into the locker door keeping his hands on my back pack. Feeling the presence I took it off and swung around to see him, quickly I pushed the bag into him and it dropped to the floor, giving me enough time to punch his gut and he fell backward toward a locker. He began coughing blood, but hadn’t hit his head, he came back to punch me and i ducked, his hand punching the locker. I returned back to him, standing on the bench in the middle of the sectioned area, I swung down and punched him in the nose, he tried pushing me off the bench but I kicked him in the groin. He came at me again but I jumped off of the bench and into the open hallway. He came at me again and got a good hit at my skull, my ear began bleeding. I pulled his hair and smashed his face against the bench and picked up my bag to run off when I was confronted by Carson’s best friends who were also on the football team. They took it upon themselves to knock me out and I went seemingly willingly. I smucked my head on a bench as I fell into darkness.  And as everyone left, and I was alone in the change room, the visual of my father was there, talking me through it, even though I was unconscious, and unaware, he was there. In spirit. 

“Dad, I-“

“Son, I love you more than words can express, please take care of yourself and your mother. I don’t want to see either of you until you’re as old as your great grandparents.”

“I love you, too dad. And I promise.” He was gone as soon as he arrived. I already miss him. I didn’t even get a hug, but maybe he can’t. I put the thought away to avoid sadness. 

Suddenly bright lights shine through my eyelids and i wake with a light headache. I want to move up out of bed but again I’m still stuck in the hospital bed. Everyone in the room is looking at me and I become worried. “What’s going on?”

“Oh nothing, you’ve just been out for about a week, we could see your eyes moving but you weren’t waking, we knew it would be soonish, but we didn’t think it would be a week.”

I want to tell mum I saw dad, but i don’t want to scare her, i feel like I’ve done that enough. I’ll keep him to myself for a while. “Oh.”

“Well Jacob, you have a visitor, if you’re ok to see her.”

“Who is she?”

“She only said she was a friend of yours.”

I don’t know any girls who would call themselves a friend of mine. But I’ll keep that to myself. “Uhm, ok, I guess I’m ok to see her.”

The doctor stood in the doorway and gestured for her to come into the room. She looks so familiar. 

“Jacob! Thank gosh you’re alive, I can’t believe this-“

“Hey, uhm I think I recognize you but I don’t know your name?”

“Oh, sorry, where are my manners?  I’m Lorna.” Aside she whispered “from group.”

She remembered my mom didn’t know. I was going to talk to her. I remember something! 

“Thank you for not telling the instructor that I hadn’t had a chance to speak. I knew you knew but it didn’t seem like anyone else did.”

“Yeah I, I wanted to talk to you about it after but you ran off, and I saw your mom, I think.” She Is so cute. 

“Uhm actually, she’s my aunt. My parents both passed away when I was very young and they took me in. It’s like they’re my real birth parents, but knowing that they aren’t, it bothers me.”

She’s so lovely. I don’t understand why she needs addiction counselling or even for self harm. Wait she just told me- “Lorna, What do you do?” I flash a look of sympathy, hoping she knows what I’m asking.

She hesitated. Maybe she doesn’t understand. Or maybe she doesn’t want to tell me, Maybe she was just there to observe, that maybe she wasn’t there to get help but to help. Oh my gosh, how awesome.

“Josh I, uhm, well I don’t really do much more than negative self-talk. But I know that it’s a freeway to all the things that others have done or continue to do and I, I want to beat it before it beats me. You know?”

She is so brilliant. “I understand.”

“Thank you for not giving me away to the instructor that I hadn’t spoken up by the way, I’m not really sure what I would have said if I had been called on.”

“Yeah, I wanted to catch up with you to make sure you didn’t feel cast aside but you were with your aunt, I guess. Sorry I’m rambling.”

“No worries. it’s cute, plus you were in a coma for a little while. Only makes sense.” She casted me the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. Her teeth aren’t the most straight but her concern comes by honestly.

“Oh, right.” She made me silent. I wasn’t quite sure what to say next except that I want my mum out of the room. “Hey mom?”

“She left when I entered the room Jacob.”

“Oh, I was just about to ask her for some privacy.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I think I like you.”

“I think I like you too.”

She put her hand on the cast around my hand and I felt warm near my heart. I felt a flutter in my belly and it was weird. It’s like something a teenage girl should feel when she flirts with a guy, or however that is in those romantic comedies and girly books they read, but maybe she felt it too. She kissed my nose, “I wish you well, Jacob.”

“Don’t go-“

“I have to, my family will be worried sick.”

“Fair enough-” Suddenly I felt disappointed, but I understood. I shouldn’t be so selfish.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, around the same time.”

“See you then, Lorna.”

She turned away in her slim black trench coat. and blue skinny jeans, her legs finally ending in a pair of white Chuck Taylor hi-tops. Her long curly brown hair swung behind her as she swung away from my bed. She seemed real cool, and I want to keep her around. Maybe we could be good for each other. But right now, I need to focus on getting better, so that I can treat her the way she so rightfully deserves.




A sorrowful tale

She spoke silent whispers as she peered out the window and counted the trees the car had passed. It was mid October and the leaves had already turned to the beautiful colours of autumn. It was a bright day considering the tragedy that had just occurred. It was all she could do to keep herself from crying.
The soft murmur of the radio was playing a song that reminded her of summer. A summer that had just passed. A song that she related to quite a lot. She loved the oldies and thought that she was born into the wrong decade. She went to turn up the volume of the song but her hand was swatted away. She thought better than to argue and tried to listen more intently to the song rather than the noise of the vehicle in motion. She rested her head back on the cushion of the seat and tried to sleep or at least occupy her mind with other things. She knew what happened. She was hurt. But she didn’t want to show weakness. She wanted to be strong like her mother. She loved him and it hurt her to think that people could pass away so wrongly.


In darkness i wait for a call. Whether on the phone or as simple as my name being yelled from just down the hall. I lay still. I avoid thinking, it only makes the pain more hurtful. I continue to hide under the covers. I don’t want to get up, but I don’t want to sleep either. This pain in my heart growing larger in my chest as seconds pass on. I’m thinking, and I stop. I think about the people around me. And I stop thinking. I listen for any shred of help. Still a loud silence echoing in my ears. I pinch my arm to awaken and find myself unharmed and very much awake. It didn’t help me. I look at the desk across from the bed. In the drawer, hidden sharps, and even as I know not to touch them I feel compelled to go to the drawer and open it. Opening the bag containing my weakness, the one thing I know I must not turn to. My sharps. And as I toss and turn in my bed, as I lay awake trying to push myself out of  bed, I turn to my night stand and find a broach i wore yesterday. It’s sharp, it may not be a knife, but it is sharp. I sit up in my bed and hold the the flower so that I see all the beautiful gems sparkle in the daylight from the cracks of the curtains. I flip it over and open the pin and place it in my palm to make it easier to penetrate my arm with the sharpness of the needle. It scratches my arm as though a cat had taken her claws to me. And it’s relieving. It somehow allows a coolness to melt the trouble away.

The One That Almost Got Away

He patiently waited for the door to open smoothly to reveal the beauty of the woman he loved. He lingered at the bar. It had been nearly 20 minutes since he had first entered the restaurant, making her only 10 minutes late, but he was already feeling blue. As he continued to wait for her, he kept a close eye on the table. He had just ordered a glass of water from the bar before returning to his seat at the table. He sat facing the door so that he could greet her when she came in. He sat for another thirty seconds which felt like nearly an eternity. He hadn’t seen her since Monday. Of course they talked, but he misses her. He misses the way that she looked at him when she was joking around, the way her eyes would flutter as though she were an innocent child, they way she couldn’t wink when she says things like, ‘That’s what she said.’ He took a short sip from the cool fogged glass, when his cellular device started ringing in his pocket. He thought it was a call, but it was just a text. He put his phone back in his pocket deeming it unimportant. A few moments later, it rang again, and he saw Tiffany calling him. He answered it hoping she wouldn’t take long.

“Hey, Liam?” Sobs caught in her throat.

“What’s going on Tiff?”

“Nothing, it’s just no, it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have called you. I’ll leave you be.”

“No, Tiffany, talk to me please? It doesn’t sound like nothing, where are you?”


Without a second to pass, he left his drink on the table and headed out the door. He put his jacket over his arm and quickly escaped the thralls of the restaurant and jumped into his Porsche. He drove into the driveway and ran up the path leading to the front door. Instead of knocking upon the door, he turned the handle to find it locked. He rang the door bell again and again. He worried about her far more than he dared to admit. Suddenly his cell phone rang and he let it go. Again, it rang some more, he lifted it out of his pocket to look at the brightly lit screen. the caller ID read, Ava (the girl he left at the restaurant). The girl he had missed, but no more than he missed Tiffany. Unexpectedly the door opened and Liam caught himself before he falling flat on the floor and put his phone back into his pocket, as though it were second nature.

Tiffany immediately hugged him. “I miss you so much, Liam.” She felt as though she were about to cry. She held him until she could no longer. She fell weak into his arms and he carried her to the couch to lay her down. All the things he wanted to forget about, all the things he had forgotten, came back like a wave upon a shore. As soon as he saw her face, all the feelings, and all the memories of her came flooding back. He loved her but couldn’t admit it. He thought he didn’t love her anymore. He thought he didn’t want to.

His mind became boggled. He became confused, he thought he wanted Ava, he thought his chances with Tiffany were through. He never wanted to throw it away, but he had to. He was left in ruins and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but it was clear, they were made for each other. It just wasn’t the right time then. And now? Now, was the time. Liam held Tiffany in his arms and kissed her soggy cheek. He wiped away the tears and whispered, “I still love you Tiffany.”

His voice was all too familiar and it made her feel new. It made her feel wanted and perfect. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time and now, now she was sure it was real. She was sure she wanted this with him. She wanted him back.

“I love you so much Liam, please don’t leave me, don’t leave me again.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

Again his phone rang. The room echoed a rotary phone ring. He took the phone out of his pocket and stared at it.

“Are you going to answer it?” Tiffany looked worried. She hoped that it wasn’t a rouse, that he was being honest that he had spoken the truth to her. She hoped it wasn’t another woman.

“No,” He pressed the end button and shut it off, to ignore the calls he would receive. He felt bad, he did, for leading her on, but he knew, he knew Ava wasn’t the one he loved. And he would deal with her in the morning; he had a lot of catching up to do.

In Truth

She sat in her room alone. She drew the curtains closed, locked the door of her room and listened to the music that left her reminiscent of times gone by. The songs that made her heart melt at one point in time, now, left her feeling cold. It left her wishing that she was still with the man she would have only seen for two weeks out of a year, because to her, he was worth suffering for. She loved him, and in her heart and in her brain, she knows, she still loves him. The end? It never felt like the end, it felt like a story requiring a sequel. It felt like a movie without any ending. It felt like a song without any movement, or maybe it’s more like a cake without the icing or as though a beautiful dove is now encased by a small cage, left uncared for; leaving her wondering if she will ever be free. Is it a mindset? Is it something she can control? Her mind wanders endlessly hoping to feel again, to feel anything more than pure sadness. She meandered around her bedroom and looked and even played with the belongings she forgot she had. She looked at photographs and letters. She re-read conversations on her phone and laptop. She found the teddy bear he bought for her, for no other reason than because he wanted to make her happy. She found herself hugging it and then remembered that he doesn’t love her anymore. She felt compelled to toss it away. To tear it apart and throw it in the trash, but as she looked upon the heart on its chest, the nice white glow of fur, and the big beady black eyes, she couldn’t do it. She still hugged it, because she needed a hug. She longed for a hug, not just any hug, but a hug from him. A hug that would never come. She threw the bear into the closet underneath the clothes she’d never wear, she put the notes and the letters and the photos of him in the same box underneath her clothes. She wanted him out of her mind. She felt lost, bewildered and ashamed. She wanted to forget him, but everything she does, reminds her of him. Everywhere she goes she sees something he might like or she does something that reminds her of something he’d say or has said. And even though the pain feels worse as each day passes, she knows her time will come. Her once delicate white angelic wings are now black and blue with a mash-up of purple and yellow, the feathers frayed and split. It was as though she were malting and growing in new feathers. And even though she feels ugly now, and feels as though she will never be completely satisfied with the life she now has; she will again spread her once broken wings and she will fly many times more.