FRAGILE
I was supposed to be studying for my film studies test that night, two nights after that horrible bump-in with Rogerson and probably 50 days after I last spoke to June. I kept count to see how this Cold War would last and seeing that it's been more than a month, I highly doubt that the Cold War would end sooner than expected. It's not that I did not want to patch things up with June, it's whether she lets me or not. I tried talking about the weather, the weird guy in my Journalism Ethics lecture and I even tried talking about Jude Law, whom she's fond of, when my taste is more to Johnny Depp. Nothing seemed to work, and somehow, I gave up.
Then the door hurled open and slammed shut loudly, so strong that the ornaments hanging on the wall almost fell. June sat on her bed with her eyes looking extremely puffy, like she's just had a torrential tear session. Of course, if I were a good roommate, I'd ask her what's going on. However judging by how many failed attempts I went through the past 50 days showed what a bad roommate I was.
June broke the silence, her voice shaking. "He broke up with me"
And I instantly sat up, because I knew who the "he" she was referring to. Before I could start talking, she resumed. "And I don't know what went wrong"
I went wrong. I thought to myself. I was what went wrong.
Spontaneously I moved to sat next to her. "June, I'm so sorry". That was all I could say, because as much as I want her to be happy, this was best for her before anything happened.
June looked at me, tears welling up in her eyes. "I am sorry Caitlin, I stopped talking to you for Rogerson, when all you wanted to do was look out for me"
Sometimes, there's alot more than words that you could do to comfort a person. And part of me felt guilty, simply because she was crying for what I said to Rogerson. I've never seen June cried, and I certainly never seen her as a person who would fall and crumble. She was as fragile as the old Caitlin O'Koren.
That night, I had another dream. I saw myself, drowning in a bathtub. And the weird thing is, I was not fighting to stay alive.
Instead, I was fighting to let go.