To Lia. The Underappreciated Mediator Buddy.
But that's alright, I guess. We'll always have Italian.
Chapter twelve: Does it hurt?
I never understood, really, why people would ask that. As if they didn't know.
I mean, the pure logic of the situation is clearly presented. It doesn't take an Einstein to figure out the facts. So I really didn't get it, when people kept saying stuff like that to me.
Does it hurt?
Are you in pain?
Gosh, it must've been terrible for you!
Acting like they didn't know the obvious. Trying to show me their sympathy.
I don't need it. I never did.
It's pathetic, really, the way one person, can just rip up your heart.
And not just the way they do it, but they way they keep doing it. As if they didn't know. As if it's not enough.
Up until this week, I didn't even know I had that much heart to play around with. Enough to keep this charade going, all the way up until the end. That's what this is, I guess. The end. The finale of my not-so-happy ending.
I think you get the point now. So you'd probably like me to stop talking in high school trauma mode.
But the thing is... I can't stop.
This is it, now. All that's left of my life. I'm going to be an old spinster lady who annoys her neighbors, talking about her first love. Her first heartbreak, her first breakup, the day that blood froze in her veins.
Did he really think that this would be better for me? To end up like this?
And...oh God. The letter.
It was the most horrible letter I had ever received, the kind that you want to rip into a thousand pieces and burn. And then, if burning wasn't enough, to toss the ashes into the ocean and watch them scatter on the wind.
Only I couldn't. Because it would be the only piece of him I had left. Jesse, I mean. The letter was from Jesse.
He was leaving.
I can't remember exactly why.
Something to do with that fact that we, as so eloquently he put it, 'just aren't meant to be', because he was dead and 'you, Susannah, are very much alive.' Because he couldn't give me 'what you deserve,' because he couldn't 'make you happy', and was 'someone who does not have the courage to try.' But most of all, because...we were a mistake.
Okay, so that's not what he really said. I think his whole speech was rather complicated. It's difficult to make out the exact meaning, but the basic gist of it's there.
I can't even read it all, after all that crying, but... I know what he meant. I didn't need some formal letter to break it to me, a couple pieces of paper, fancy calligraphy.
I could tell exactly what it was, as soon my eyes skid over those last few words. 'Goodbye.'
Goodbye.
He was saying goodbye.
I think that's when I should've broken down. I mean, I've read enough sappy novels to know what the expected reaction is, from something like this. The heroine always faints, always gasps, always...cries.
But the thing about those novels—especially the sappy ones by Susan Anderson—well, those weren't real. Were they?
Because in real life, the person you loved wouldn't just leave you, abandon you on what some might call your death bed—though to be fair, I had had a full recovery—or toss you aside like an Old Navy tote, just as soon as they found their Burberry.
In real life, the guy you fell for wouldn't just kiss you and run, leaving behind some sappy goodbye letter, expressing their good wishes and asking you to 'feel better.'
Because in real life—well, these things just don't happen, do they?
Or maybe they do. I wouldn't really know.
I suppose it was at this point that I suddenly became rather infuriated. Or just, in a manner of speaking, pissed off.
It just—wasn't fair.
'Cause those tears that were trailing down my cheeks? Well, they weren't real tears. And that sob that I had emitted was far from expressing my feelings.
Because right then at that moment, all I felt was confused.
And the only thing, really, that I could bring myself to think of was how he'd said it, the last time I saw him. And that stupid look in his eyes as he did. Querida...don't do this."
So what was he doing now?
"Suze?" My mom's voice rang clear in the background, rousing me out ofthe tranceIhad fallen intoand back to crisp reality. I had forgotten that there was anyone else in the room.
I looked up. She wore what looked like a worried expression, though it was hard to tell...I couldn't see through the layer of tears that had dried over my face. My eyelashes felt sticky.
God, I was such a mess.
"Honey?" She whispered. "Suzie, you look—you look so pale."
I couldn't hold it. Not anymore. Maybe I could've if it had been a different time. Maybe if it had been Tuesday, or my birthday or something. Maybe if all the events in this past week hadn't been already so mind-blowing, so stressful, so difficult to handle.
Maybe I could've faked it.
"Excuse me," I murmured, as I ran out of the room
42-
He found me in the hallway of the ladies' room, left cheek pressed resolutely to the floor.
I hadn't even gotten to the door before I shattered.
That's the thing about love these days. You can never freaking tell.
Unsure of the time, and just how long I had been lying there, tears streaming freely down my face, I strained my neck to look at the clock.
It was 5:30. I sniffed.
My mom must've gotten extremely worried if she sent Father Dom in to see me. Though it was really quite sensible. I guess she must've noticed somehow, that the father and I had some strange unspoken bond other than the usual, of student and principal.
Father D. came in, took one look at me, my right pressed flat against the cold tile floor, my left hand clutching the note, and muttered, "Oh, dear."
Not wanting to disappoint him, I got up, calmed my tears and hiccups, straightened my new lilac corduroy jacket, and asked in a firm and steady voice, "So, when's the exorcism?"
The good Father wasn't fooled. Instead he said, with a pitying look, "Susannah, it's his choice, you must let him go."
I glared at him, sort of pissed. He was ruining my brave façade, before I had even chance to finish it. "Oh, I know, I just want to say good bye before then," I hardened my voice, "you will let me won't you?"
I don't know what I was thinking, threatening a priest.
The look of pity deepened. "Susannah-"
I gave him my best puppy eyes—the ones I hadn't attempted since third grade. "Please, Father, I just want to say good bye. I won't use my 'sexual wiles to influence his decision.' " I muttered, making little quotation marks in the air.
"Tomorrow night, in the rectory." He said, his voice was rather contrite, even though I was sure that some of this was his decision. "And I advise you not to go looking for him, Susannah."
I nodded, feeling suddenly feverish. An eerie feeling had overtaken me, and I could focus only on the tiny goose-bumps on my shoulders.
Tomorrow night, in the rectory.
I got up slowly, my head pounding, and shuffled slowly down the narrow corridor back to my room, not daring to look Father Dominic in the eye.
Itwas empty as I entered it, my already-packed bags still lined up at the door. I sat up on the hospital bed, seemingly unaware of my surroundings. It wasn't until I heard the door fall shut that I again started to cry.
I was, I realized, turning into a mess, dripping acid tears. Breathing harshly, I felt my hand reach up to my chest, where I was sure to find a heart that beat.
It did of course. So hard that it hurt.
Two updates. In ONE week.
Wow, I'm on some kind of fanfic frenzy!
TU NON CAPISCi.
MA LiA E JESSE CAPiAMO MOLTO!
HAHAHAHHAHAHA. Okay. I'm back to my outline.
