***ENGLISH ISN'T MY LANGUAGE***


You had everything planned
hiding the gun between the lips
you don't mind hurting me after all these years
forgiving us so much...


TEDDY

"You know? The snow, it wasn't for the soldiers, it was for you, I did it for you".

The snow, Owen always knew that I loved the snow, was one the first things I confessed when we became friends, he confessed me that the most important thing for him was the family and I didn't want to talk about mine so I confessed that I loved Christmas and the snow, confessions after confessions the years went by until we got to the point where we both knew everything about each other and yet here we were now, he appealing to the snow to make me stop, not to kick him out to the street, to listen to his false promises of love and I… I was trying with all my strength not to give in to him, not again, not to burst into tears and to show him for the umpteenth time that he was my weakness.

I listened to him and for a moment his words seemed sincere, but then I remembered that a little more than 24 hours ago he had been in bed with his ex-wife, it wasn't something strange, Owen had always been like that, he didn't know how to be alone so if Amelia was available it was to be expected that he would take the opportunity, but why? Why did he have to wait for that woman to make him see things to come to me? Why?

The question kept spinning in my head, maybe I would never know why, and now, after this I wasn't interested in knowing, I wanted Owen out of my house and out of my life. No one had ever hurt me the way he was doing, the pain I was feeling was so big and so deep that only someone with a dirty soul could be responsible, but the responsible was Owen, the last person I expected to hurt me, from him I just expected love, understanding, company, camaraderie not pain, tears and disappointment.

With superhuman strength I restrain myself from bursting into tears and showing him weakness, he doesn't deserve it, I must be strong. I cling to his jacket equally strong, as strong as I clung a few hours ago to his naked torso and he to my back, my hips, my lips. The gentle scent of the piece of clothing did nothing to try to keep the memories away, memories that might remain in my memory for the rest of my life; the memory of our naked bodies moving under the sheets in perfect synchrony while we whispered interminable words of love to each others' ears, now I know that his were just that, words, while mine were promises, oaths, confessions, all the love I had repressed in my heart since the day I met him.

At the same time that memories lurked a war began in my head, on the one hand a voice begged me to stop, to hear him, that all this had an explanation; while another voice ordered me to throw him out of my house and my life once and for all, that I was worth too much to be his second choice, his security blanket.

I carefully opened my mouth to say my last words, begging any heavenly entity out there to help me keep a firm voice.
"I'm done Owen, we are done."

And with these last words I reluctantly handed him the jacket that I clung to as if it were life itself a few seconds ago, unsurprisingly he took it without hesitation, there was the proof I needed, he made no other attempt to persuade me to stop on the contrary, by left without hesitation he gave me the answer I was looking for, he had only come because he was lonely.

I close the door behind him and I lean on it covering my mouth with my hand fearing burst into a cry so loud that he could hear it from outside. Deep down, childishly or romantically, stupidly would say my subconscious, I expected him to be on the other side of the door, waiting for the right moment to knock on my door again and try to solve everything, I could almost imagine the scenario, I would cry for a few minutes behind the door and he would hear my cries from the other side, once I was more calm he would knock again, asking, begging forgiveness and I would at first deny myself but it's Owen, my weakness, after talking and screaming probably for hours we would make amends and spend the rest of the night making love, unfortunately none of that would happen, none of that would happen because I wouldn't open the door nor would he be on the other side ... correction, he is not on the other side, I don't know what this strange connection I have with him is but I can feel his presence every time he approaches or goes away; Last night while I was sleeping a shaking jolt woke me up and I didn't know what it was until minutes later someone knocked on my door, it was that connection letting me know that he was coming, nevertheless now that same connection was letting me know that he was getting further and further away from me, and maybe it would be the last time I would feel it.

Slowly I slide through the door until I reach the floor and as soon as I make contact with the cold wood I can't contain it anymore and I burst into tears and cry and scream and curse. I cry with rage, I cry with sadness, I cry with pain, the greatest pain I've ever felt in my life, the pain of disappointment; I curse my innocence, I curse him, I curse myself and even her even though it's not her fault. I'm the sad image of a wounded woman shattered on the floor crying for something that never was and surely never will be.

I don't know how long I've been lying on the floor with my knees against my chest, my crying has stopped but not my tears, I look up at the window feeling the tendons of my neck complain angrily and I find that the sun is gone and the huge full moon illuminates the lonely streets while the snow falls gently, slowly, without hurry, just like last night. For a moment I can feel a twinge in my chest, the snow, he did it for me and now every time it snows I won't be able to stop thinking about it, about him… I never thought I could hate the snow.

Slowly I get up feeling how my whole body protests with the effort, with slow and tired step I go to my room, the sheets and pillows are still as we left them last night, in a fit of rage I take the sheets, the quilt and the pillows and I tear them off the mattress, letting out a long and painful scream from my insides. With accelerated breathing I see the mountain of sheets on the floor and I swear to myself that tomorrow I'll get rid of them, then without bothering to change my pajamas and much less taking a bath I take a new blanket from the closet and climb to the bed lying on the bare mattress and covering me from head to toe, ironically it's the soft scent that had managed to permeate the mattress that lulls me to sleep, the smell of Owen.

The next morning I wake up a cold chill running through my body, I slowly open my eyes squinting when the light coming through the window manages to penetrate my pupils, I reach out my hand to look for the blanket but I can't find it, I get up on my elbow and I find it on the floor next to the mountain of sheets that I had discarded last night, with zero motivation I get up from the bed, I close the curtains, I take the blanket and I wrap myself in the bed again, closing my eyes without knowing if I want to sleep or stay awake; Asleep dreams would haunt me and awaken memories.

Without realizing it, I fell asleep again and when I wake up once again the light has gone and I laugh at the irony, inside me the light it's also gone. Deciding that it's not worthy to fall into this endless black hole of cries, tears and disappointment for a person like Owen I get up from the bed and stretch each and every one of my limbs until my stomach makes a hunger sound but I'm not in the mood to eat anything. Even so I go to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove, while I wait for water to boil to make some coffee I sit on a stool by the kitchen island when I remember that I have something to do, immediately I look for a large bag in the drawers of the kitchen and I go with firm step to my room, I have to get rid of those sheets.

With rage I take them one by one and put them to the bottom of the bag, hesitate a little when it's the turn of the pink blanket, my favorite pink blanket, I can still remember when I bought it and the saleswoman told me, "Perfect for cold afternoons and perfect to warmly cover two people" the she winked at me, even though at that time I didn't have anyone to share it with I bought it, hoping to one day have someone to share it with, and yes, that day did come, but now I wish that it never would've arrived.

Deciding that coffee wouldn't be enough, I return to the kitchen, get rid of the hot water, replace the water with red wine and the cup with a large crystal glass, I return to my room and go to the bathroom to fill the tub, definitely my body needs a bath, as if the bathroom or the water were going to wash my pain, stupid.

Even so, I remain in the water for hours, until the lack of food and the excess of alcohol begin to wreak havoc on my body; two bottles of wine after I get out of the tub and stumble to my room, as I can I look in my drawers a new set of pajamas to get dressed, clumsily I look for new sheets for the bed and while I try to place them on the mattress is there when I notice, in the armchair next to my bed I don't know if it is alcohol playing tricks with my mind but when I see what's on the armchair my drunkenness seems to fade completely, carefully as if it were a bomb about to explode I head towards the object that had caught my attention and I take it in my hands, without realizing the tears are already wetting my cheeks again, Owen had forgotten his shirt, or rather, I forgot to pack it when I did his rucksack before I threw him barefoot to the street.

I cry with Owen's shirt pressed hard against my chest sitting by the window just like we had done a couple of nights ago, I cry and in my tears I shed all my pain, all my frustration and when there is nothing left in me I swear to myself that this would be the last time I cry for him, the last time the memory of his kisses or his hands running through my naked body make my throat close and my pain leave in the form of endless rivers of tears.

And so I do it, or at least I try to, as much as I want I can't get rid of my pink blanket or his shirt, instead, I fold both pieces and keep them in the depths of my closet, a hypocritical act considering that I had sworn to forget it, but I can't, I can't let reason win over my heart, my heart that although I am furious with Owen can't forget all the good times we lived together and in the name of those moments, or at least that was what I told myself, I decide to keep the blanket and the shirt.

As I can I keep on with my life, with my routine; get up early, take a quick shower, running to work, return home and sleep, or rather, try to sleep and repeat; get up, shower, work, sleep, repeat and repeat and repeat, taking refuge in my "friends" or alcohol when the memory of Owen is so painful that it makes me want to run away, so strong that it makes me feel him here with me, as if that connection we had were letting me know that he was here making me company in my darkest moments, maybe the fact that knowing that part of him was stored in the back of my closet was what made me feel close to him , even so I tried to continue with my life, repeat, repeat and repeat until one day...


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