When The Heart Begins to Hope

FICTION FICTION FICTION FICTION FICTION FICTION FICTION FICTION

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The clock ticked. 

One. Two. Three— Forty-seven—Fifty-nine— Tic-tac-tic-tac…

She remained where she stood, staring at nothing, not even at the girl facing her; whose eyes screamed nothingness at her.  Gone was the light that made her eyes even brighter, much more enticing.  Not today.  And not for a long, long time. 

She dropped her eyes, not focusing on anything really.  No.  Not even at the floor.  She knew that the girl before her had done just the same. 

The grief consumed her whole being.  Breathing had become a chore.  It hurt to take-in air and much more painful to breathe it out.  She shut her eyes tightly forcing herself not to feel.  He’s gone.  He’s gone.  He’s not yours anymore.  He’s never coming back.  You made him stop loving you. 

Slowly, she raised her eyes to stare at the girl’s eyes in front of her.  “Who is this girl?” she asked.  “Why are you here?” These questions she asked in silence; and yet it resonated in her mind, in her soul.  Deafening! “How did you get here?  What have you done?”

The girl stared back at her with the same lifeless expression in her eyes. She stared harder and realized that there was something there.  No.  They weren’t lifeless after all.  Her heart beat in rage as contempt stared back at her.  “No!!!”  She screamed over and over in her head; allowing the torture, the unending heartache, regret, and disappointment drown her… To drown the girl before her. 

Angry tears stung her eyes.  Stubborn droplets of warm liquid brimming in her eyes intensified the anger even more.  She wanted to scream.  At least the screaming will force her to feel something else.  No, she sighed painfully.  Not even that—

She held her hand up to touch the girl’s hand.  “You love him,” she asked, eyes pleadingly seeking solace.  “You hurt him.”  She wanted very much to ask her how they got at this place.  “Where do you go from here?  How do you live from here on?” 

Live.  Such a loaded word, she thought.  Live. Life. Nothing. 

She broke out crying… sobbing…

Somehow, a grain of something less depressing tugged her heart.  “Honey,” she whispered.  The sound of her voice sounded alien to her.  She tried again and this time she spoke his name… Over and over… And the more she did, the more her tears flowed from her beautiful, yet lifeless eyes. More sobbing rose from her chest, gripping her soul.

The girl before her cried with her; cried as hard as she did.  There was no comfort.  None. Nothing.

She breathed hard and deep and the effort it took to do just that broke her even more.  Disappointment washed over her.  Nothing was making it less hard, it seemed. 

The tears began to subside but not the pain.  Never the pain. 

She heard someone knock at her door. She didn’t care.  She had more pressing matters to do.  She had anger to entertain; she had hopes to drain; wishes to abandon; and the hardest--- she needed love to find her.

The familiar sound of her phone echoed in her chamber.  She stared at it.  Her heart beating wildly.  “Baby?”  Her heart hoped.  She looked at the small screen and once again… Nothing.  She glanced back at the girl wanting her to look better than her.  But alas, she was no better.

If only she could snatch her heart off of her body so that he’d see that every beat belonged to him... Will always belong to him. Yet, she knew— Even that wasn’t enough. No amount of “I’m sorrys” or begging would make it better; would make him better; would make her better; would make them better.  Only time would— Perhaps for him.  She hoped for him.

Her reflection, the girl— the girl she could barely recognize, stared back at her.  “Be okay for him,” she seemed to tell her.  “Forgive yourself.”

Reluctantly, she turned and sat on the bed; hoping the night would at least cloak her sorrow.  She snatched his shirt, the one he wore the night before he left.  Sniffed it, allowing his scent to lull her to rest.  Like last night, the other night, and the night before, with the little strength left in her, she pressed his number on her cellphone.  She knew it would ring and ring before it'd go to voice mail; but she just wanted to hear his voice.  One more time.  Maybe one last time.  But then, she heard the click.  She looked at her screen and realized that he answered and he didn’t hang up.  For the first time in so many days, she felt a small smile tug on her lips.   

She pressed the phone harder against her ears, wanting to hear… something. Anything.

A sob escaped her chest.  Bravely she spoke what’s in her heart.  “I love you.  I’m so sorry.”  Then, with the same amount of bravery but with reluctance, she pressed the end button. 

That night she slept with hope slowly growing in her heart.