Denial of the Worst Possible Kind
I try to bite back my instant denial but the word has already left my lips and hovers in the air between us, a huge elephant of refusal. I'm not ready. I can't do this. I have no faith in my stamina. He deserted me. He has no staying power. He's too unpredictable. We're wrong together. I can think of so many excuses but they're all so feeble. He does know me; he knows my innermost thoughts and feelings. He knows everything about me, possibly even more than my own mother knows, maybe even more than I know. He knows that I have a not-so-innocent side, that I'm not wholly the Town Princess. That I'm not as fragile as everyone believes me to be.
Why can't I trust him?
Why can't I be impulsive?
Why don't I want this?
Why do I want this?
Why can't I tell him?
"Look, you know we're supposed to be together. I knew the first time I saw you. Two years ago! And you know it too, I know you do."
I do know. I knew as soon as he invited me to bail out of my bedroom window to 'walk around or sit on a bench and stare at our shoes'. He always had to be the epitome of Beat. He doesn't just go through life, waiting for the perfect moments to fall right into his lap; he goes out and lives them. I, on the other hand, like to wait for them to be handed to me on a silver platter complete with a gold embossed invitation. I could never be as self-seeking as he is. I could never be as brave as he is; it's just not like me to take risky chances. And this is possibly the riskiest chance that's ever been offered to me.
And so denial-refusal-colours my lips again, rolling off my tongue.
"No. No, no, no, no!"
I need him to leave. I can't keep doing this. I haven't got the strength. He won't meet my eyes but he still pursues me.
"Don't say no just to make me stop talking or make me go away. Only say no if you really…don't wanna be with me."
Yes.
"No!"
He looks at me. Stares at me. I've never seen his emotions this naked before. There is all-encompassing pain, unabashed, glittering in his dark eyes. I want to kiss a smirk back onto his beautiful, angelic face.
But it's too late.
He's already left me, alone amidst my despondent boxes. I give in and allow myself to sink down onto one of them. It's too late. I've lost him.
Just as I promised myself, my tears flow freely. This is the first time I've allowed them to, the first time I've allowed myself to grieve for my Howard Roark.
This is the first and final time.
I'll compartmentalise. Shut it all away in my Jess Box. I won't cry for him. Us. Never again. It rips me apart too much and I have to be whole.
Oh god, I loved him. I love him. Jess. My Jess.
No. Not anymore.
In the darkness of my dorm room, one word shimmers in the air, escaping from me in a rush of hot, salty breath. One word.
"Jess."