AN: Thanks to everyone reading and following this story, and thanks a million to everyone who left reviews! I'm sorry I have not responded - I work 10 am - 9 pm and mostly check via my phone, and it doesn't have the capacity to respond to you. But your reviews are much appreciated.
The sky was a beautiful blue, so I knew that it was morning. I had no idea what the time was, and I knew that I wouldn't make an effort to find out for at least another couple of hours. Fortunately, PIFA was closed for the holidays, so there was nothing to interfere with my life as a potted plant.
I switched the television on, and stared at whatever they were showing. I caught a rerun of House, M.D. half-way through the episode, and I decided to watch it, since it required such little effort on my part.
It was like this most days.
I made coffee, I made myself a sandwich…often, I even made dinner for Mom and Molly. I didn't eat much myself, though.
They made me do things. Take Molly to the mall, and ballet, and the pool. Grocery shopping. Cleaning. Laundry. Often, I did these things without being asked. It helped, because the more I went through the motions, the less pitying looks I got.
Sometimes I read, though the stories were invariably too thin to be an actual distraction. I was so grateful for my self-imposed isolation; no one other than Mom and Daphne had to see me in this shape.
I wondered if this was a dream, and someone was going to wake me.
I was literally just watching the days go by, staring at walls, wondering what I was supposed to be doing. I imagined Brian often, creating all kinds of alternate universes in my head where things worked out for the two of us. I wondered if he ever thought of me?
I felt small. Like a teeny tiny speck of meaningless nothing. How did I lose my way this badly?
The election was quite some weeks ago, but it still stung badly. Thinking about it made me physically sick. It hurt.
On the plus side, the crying had stopped. I didn't have the energy for it anymore. And everything had dulled. Brian, Stockwell, losing the election. It all still hurt, but it was dull. None of it was an open wound with blood gushing out anymore. They had all become chronic pain instead.
Sometimes, I thought of calling Brian. Maybe emailing him. But I never did, because I didn't know what to say.
I hoped that he was missing me.
I managed to paint, though. Some people ate their feelings; I managed to paint mine. I suppose that counted as progress.
Sometimes, I stared at the wall, the ceiling, and the tiles for so long that I started seeing patterns in them. Shapes. Animals. Faces.
This is how I spent my time, watching day become night, night become day, the sun going up, the sun going down...everything just rolling into one another.
Then I got a call from Senator Baxter. She had a vacancy on her team, because someone had gone on maternity leave. She liked me, Deekins had recommended me; would I take on a 12 month contract and join her staff?
It was in Washington, D.C.
Mom was over the moon. She was thrilled to bits, just assumed that I would accept the offer, and repeated several times about how proud she was of me.
Daphne was a little bit in awe. She also had the presence of mind to ask me what I wanted.
I didn't really know what I wanted.
I wanted to be an animator. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to finish PIFA.
But I was always a fighter, and I've always wanted to fight for the 'right thing'. Help other people. And this seemed like a great opportunity to do work that might actually matter.
Daphne said that working for Senator Baxter didn't preclude me from being an artist; I would always be an artist, and I could and would always draw and paint and create, no matter what I was doing.
Which was true. Doing one thing did not stop me from doing the other.
I needed to do something. I had to find direction again, a purpose. I had to get myself out of the rut I was in. Maybe this was it. Move away from Pittsburgh. Meet new people, do new things. Maybe I would remember how to live again.
This would also be the way in which I stopped accepting Brian's money. I would have to take a year off from PIFA…Brian never needed to know when I would resume, if I ever did. Maybe I could save enough money transfer to another school…New York or someplace far, far away. I would start again only when I had the tuition fees, and Brian would never know.
And thus, I finally had a reason to email Brian.
I pushed it back. I was afraid of what he would – or wouldn't – say.
I started packing. Not that I had much of anything to pack. Mom insisted on taking me shopping and buying 'appropriate' work clothes. I suppose that was required.
I boxed away so many little things – sketch books, knickknacks, and keepsakes. The only photograph I had of myself and Brian…somewhere at Debs, him nipping my earlobe. It was supposed to last forever, and now all of this was going to disappear into a basement. No one would ever look at any of this again.
But it would stay with me. It would stay with me forever. Sketching on Mel and Lindz's couch. Brian eating an apple. All these memories would live inside me forever. Like a scar, that hurt when you looked at it. I couldn't unthink Brian. I couldn't undo Brian. I would always feel him touch me, kiss me…and I'd always love him. Try as I did, I couldn't unlove him. I could only try my best to bury him to the back of my mind, and maybe think about him just a couple of times a week.
I sent Brian an email. Kept it short, but I tried to be friendly. Give him an opening. I said that I was taking a year off, and he wouldn't have to pay tuition. I said that I was going to work for Senator Baxter, in D.C.
I prayed for a sign that he still cared, that he wanted me, and told myself to expect nothing.
Brian took almost a day to respond. All he said was:
Good for you. If you run for office, I'll vote for you.
That was it.
What did it even mean? Could an email be more impersonal than that? Fucking unlikely. I thought that having no response may have been better.
This was it, then. I reached out. I got nothing back. I guess Brian's mind was made up, like it always had been. I had been a fool to expect something, just because I told him that I was leaving. We were already worlds apart, living in the same city. With D.C., we were really each going to go our own way.
Someday, love would find him. Someone would manage to melt his walls, break those chains, and make him love them the way they loved him. That person wasn't Michael, and it sure as hell wasn't me.
I hoped someone would.
I wanted Brian to find happiness.
I would always love him. Brian knew that. If he ever wanted me…he knew that.
Caught between heartbreak and pain, I had picked heartbreak.
Now it was time to say goodbye for good, and move on.
