Part 5:
Alex:
This is the part of the day you hate the most, waking up to realise that those times you were dreaming of are over, and you'll never get them back. Right now, you keep replaying her hand laid on your shoulder; it was the first time she had voluntarily touched you in five years, and part of you wonders what would have happened if you had turned around to speak to her. Would she have had anything to say that you wanted to hear? You doubt that, but you're still curious.
You'll have to see her today, and you're not sure you can handle that. Since her last words to you, not including her whispering your name last night, you've had meaningless encounters, because you're just not willing to risk your heart again. Seeing her today...the possibility of her trying to talk to you, that terrifies you. You see her with her "guy of the week"(you call them that in your head, because a week is all they seem to last), and wonder why they don't stick around. You wonder if it's her, or if it's them. More than anything, though, you still feel jealous of them. Even if you've decided on the surface that you don't want her anymore, deep down you know you do, and you certainly don't want other people to have her. They don't make her happy. You know you could have made her happier; you wouldn't have given her everything. Only you never got the chance.
You wonder what she did with those letters that you wrote her, all that time ago. You don't know why you're thinking about them now, but it suddenly seems important. Maybe she ripped them to shreds without even glancing at the words on the page. You can't remember what it was you wrote to her, but you know it wouldn't have been well received. It was something written while you were hurting, and that means that it probably got expressed as anger. You know it doesn't matter anymore, anyway. You know you told her how she hurt you, because she only thought about herself. Guess you both did a great job of hurting each other, then.
You realise that you've been thinking about things too much, and that you should be getting ready for school. Anything to put off seeing her, though. You know it'll be hard to avoid her; you have some of the same friends. When you talk to those friends, though, she stands in the background, and doesn't say a word. You know that Summer has tried to get her to talk to you, but you don't think she'll be asking that again, considering how you freaked out last time she mentioned it. You're not sure why you freaked out, exactly, only that you weren't ready to try and rebuild a friendship with Marissa. Maybe you just felt that there were too many pieces to put back together, and a little part of you hated her for a long time. You got over that, of course you did, and you still went to watch her sing, no matter how much it hurt when you had to walk out of that place without telling her how proud you were of her.
You're finally ready to leave, so, you grab an apple as you walk through the kitchen, and then slam the front door behind you. You always have to slam that door, because else it won't shut properly. You should have got it fixed, but you've been wrapped up in your own little world for a long time. You decide to walk to school, it's not far, and it means less time before you have to see her.
As soon as you walk into school, you notice her. She's always been the first (and only) girl you notice. Somehow, you can't help but compare them all to her, the her that you remember from when you were friends, and none of them ever even come close to her. She's approaching fast, and you want to turn and run, but there's nowhere to go. She's in front of you now, pushing a strand of her away from her face, and you're mesmerised by that simple action, just for a second. Then you snap out of it, and look at her expectantly. She doesn't say anything, though, just looks confused, and bites her lip nervously. This, of course, draws your eyes to her lips, and you look away quickly. Why you care so much about her getting the wrong idea, you don't know. It's not like you're friends anymore or anything.
"I...um..." The stuttering is kinda cute, you think to yourself, and then shake your head to clear those thoughts.
"Yeah?" you ask, quietly, the way you always ask questions.
"Thanks for coming, last night," she replies, not meeting your eyes.
You're really confused now, you expected her to tell you never to come again, that you make her uncomfortable...but she's thanking you? You frown slightly at her, waiting to see if she's going to say something else, but she doesn't appear to have anything else to say. She turns to walk away, seeing your lack of response, but something seems to take over you, and you call after her.
"Yeah?" she asks.
"Nothing," you say. Whatever it was that was in your head, it's gone now, and you don't know what to say to her. She looks down, and barely audible, you hear her whisper, "I miss you."
Marissa:
You wanted to speak to her, so desperately last night. And you thought you had a chance, but she walked away from you. You deserve it, you think to yourself, after the way you walked away from her. You want a chance to make it up to her, though. You want a chance to be her friend again, but you're unbelievably scared that she won't let you. You know, thought, that she's a more forgiving person than you could ever hope to be, and even if you sometimes acted like you were better than her, you know she's a better person, and you wish you could have seen all those little things that you love about her before it was too late.
You take the letters from the drawer. There are only two, and you have the feeling that they're not the kind of letters people write when they expect a reply. More the kind of letters that say goodbye. You know that the words on this page will hurt you, but it's time for you to deal with all this stuff that is going round and round in your head. You unfold the first one slowly. Some of the ink has run and you know she must have been crying as she wrote it.
I'd tell you I'm sorry, but I'm not. I don't think love is something people should ever be sorry for. What I do know is that I'm going to be more careful with my heart in future, and who I give it to. I say that like I had a choice about how I feel about you, when you and I both know I didn't. This isn't something that gets choices. You on the other hand, you made a choice. I'm not saying I expected you to feel the same way, I know you didn't. But, there are better ways of dealing with things, Marissa. You know that.
I know I can't talk about better ways of dealing with things...you know the way I deal with stuff, and I know it's not healthy. But did you even take a second to consider how I felt? Just one second, and that would have been enough for me. But there you were, thinking about yourself. As much as I want to hate you, I can't. I just can't, and I know that is going to ruin me. I know I shocked you...took away that comfort zone that is so important to you...but I trusted you. I trusted you not to do this to me. All I wanted was for you to know how I felt. I didn't want to lose our friendship over this, but it's already gone. And you can blame me all you want, but you know the only thing I'm guilty of is loving you. I know you don't know what that's like, loving someone who doesn't feel the same way...It hurts, but not as much as the fact that you can't even look at me anymore. What I feel doesn't matter, I just want things back to the way they were.
She's wrong about one thing. You do know how it feels to love someone who doesn't love you back, because, more than anything, seeing those words on that old crumpled piece of paper has made you realise just how crazy you are about her. You know your time has passed. She doesn't love you anymore. Says so in the second letter she wrote you. She finally gets over you, and there you are, realising you're in love with her. You wipe away the tears that have formed in the corner of your eye and are threatening to spill out, and you place the letters carefully back in the drawer, seeing those words in her messy handwriting over and over again. You take a deep breath, determined to get to school and actually speak to her.
You're waiting for her now, sure she usually arrives earlier than this, and then you see her, guitar in one hand, apple in the other. As you walk towards her, she throws the apple towards the nearest bin, and she doesn't miss like you always do. She always used to laugh at you doing that. You're getting distracted again. You stop in front of her. She looks curiously at you.
"I um...I"...damn, you didn't expect her to make you quite this nervous, and you're still not sure what you're doing here, what it is you want to say to her.
"Yeah?" she asks, her voice neutral. Then again, she always sounds that way.
"Thanks for coming last night." When she just looks at you, without responding, you slowly turn to walk away.
"Marissa?"
You wonder if your face is as hopeful as you feel right now. You turn back around to look at her.
"Yeah?"
She looks like she's going to say something, and then changes her mind. "Nothing" becomes the actual response she gives you. Unable, and unwilling to stop yourself, you mutter, "I miss you," avoiding her eyes.