Disclaimer:I do not own Degrassi: TNG...if I did Darcy would have been pushed off a cliff and Paige and Spinner would have gotten back together.
She wasn't perfect.
Maybe that was the best part about her. All those little imperfections that made up who she was. I remember when I was in grade nine, she was in grade eight, we went out on our first date. It was something sweet and simple...fitting to our age. Somehow, though, she reminded me of my little sister. I was such an idiot; I was, what, fourteen at the time? What did I expect her to be, some sort of thirteen year old vixen that would throw me down on the ground and have her way with me?
If I could go back, I would. I'd have asked her to go out with me for real. I wouldn't have told her that she reminded me of my little sister. If I could get that girl back that she was...
But I can't and it really doesn't matter anymore.
The next year, I remember seeing her on the first day of school. She was wearing this snug fitting jogging outfit, that showed a slim line of her stomache. She had her hair down, wild curls falling across her back. I remember thinking how much she was NOT like my little sister at that moment. I remember thinking that I wanted nothing more than to have myself a little peice of that.
Not afraid to say that I was definetly a pig, but...give me a little credit at the same time. I was just some idiot high school boy that thought the world revolved around sex. However, I couldn't have any of that, I was with Ashley.
Ashley Kerwin.
What can I say about Ash? Did I love her? I'm not really sure, even now. A small part of me thinks that maybe I did, but at the same time...I think Ash was more of an obsession for me. I didn't act to her the way someone would act with the person they loved. Ash who was always, woe is me and whining about something or other, playing it off as being gothic or later on being emo. I remember when she left for London, I thought it was the end of the world. But it wasn't...not really...it only led me back to the girl I should have chosen two years before.
Sometimes I hate myself for what did to her back when she was a freshman. I think about the way she so naively gave herself to me, thinking that it would me hers. I remember the way she so shamelessly went after me, offering herself to me on a silver platter.
I thought, well I'm the man now. I have two girlfriends and both think that they're the one I love. Again, idiot kid.
I remember the way she came to me months later, telling me she was pregnant. I remember how she told me she was getting an abortion, tears streaming down her face, looking for some sort of understanding. I should have stuck by her, regardless of the fact that I feel abortion is morally wrong. I should have been there for her through it, but I turned from her. I turned from her and went back to pleading for Ash's forgivness, when I should have been pleading for hers.
I wonder, sometimes, how it was that she could forgive me for everything I put her through. I wonder how she could still love me after all the years of hurt that I caused her. Everyone else saw her as a slut with no feelings and sometimes...sometimes I saw her the same way. It shames me to even say it. She was just a girl who had a romantic and soft heart. A girl who needed to believe in happily ever after.
No one looked past her facade to see the broken home. She had no one there to talk to about the nightmares she'd have about the abortion, the baby she would see in her dreams calling out to her. She had no one there to tell them about how much she hated herself for having the abortion and how much she regreted it. She had no one.
I finally realized that she was all I'd ever needed. And once again, she forgave me and took me back. For the first time we were together, out in the open, no secrets. Everything was perfect. I should have known I'd find some way to screw it up. Craig Manning always does.
I came back from Vancouver with a coke problem. I lied to her, telling her I only did it once in a while to calm my nerves. I could see in her eyes that she didn't really believe me, but that she needed to, so she left alone. Then she came to me, asking for some. A part of me thinks that maybe she just wanted to see for herself that it wasn't so bad...wanted to convince herself that I didn't have a problem. I wish I hadn't given her any.
The next morning she told me she didn't want to do it anymore. She told me that it made her feel guilty and she didn't like it. When I went to do a line she freaked out. I don't think she could keep trying to convince herself that she would be enough for me. She knew that there was nothing she could say to make me stop.
She broke up with, slamming my bedroom door behind her. I simply turned around shoved more coke up my nose.
Ellie sent me to Joey, to get help. When I finally cleaned up and came back to Toronto. I came back for her. I was such an asshole to think she'd be waiting for me, the way she'd always waited for me in the past. It was two years after she'd dumped me and when she opened the door to see me standing there, I could see the anger in her eyes. I told her I still loved her, that I was sorry for everything, expecting her to welcome me back with open arms. Instead she told me she'd gotten over me the day she'd slammed the door in my face. She lifted her left hand to reveal a wedding ring. I'd finally really lost her.
The next time I saw her, she was in a casket. Emma told me that by the time they'd discovered the cancer it was too late. I met her husband at the funeral and hated him immediatley. Hated him because he was nice and good and he hadn't taken her for granted. I hated him because he was all the things I could never be. I hated him because he'd gotten to spend the last years of her life with her.
I think back on all of this and I see that Manny Santos was so much more than anyone had given her credit for. I'd almost ruined her, but she'd pulled out on top, just where she was always meant to be. Her life was too short, but she hadn't let a moment of it go to waste.
Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat next to my girlfriend, Manny's face fresh in my mind. On those nights I hate my girlfriend. I hate her red hair and hazel eyes, wishing they were Manny's brown curls and dark eyes. I hate her pale skin, wishing it was Manny's olive skin. I hate her because she's not Manny and she never can be, but I hate myself more because I can't blame Manny for losing her. I have no one to blame, but myself.