Jessica Sankiewicz - If Only We

You know those statements, the ones where the person opens with a compliment then follows it up with a harsh truth? They are trying to soften the blow, like it is a kindness of them to do it that way. Say I’m going to trip and fall—while landing on the grass instead of a concrete sidewalk might feel better, the humiliation remains the same.

The moment dragged on for what felt like hours, finally ending with the words I never wanted to hear from him. “Adrienne, I like you, a lot. I really do. But I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to go out.”

Part of me knew. I flew on a high that caused me to forfeit the possibility of anything other than a happy ending. Impossible to imagine any other option except he and I being together. Instead, he crushed my soul with twenty-four words. My heart shattered in a thousand pieces.

A boom of thunder jolts me back to the present. I duck under the covers at the initial shock to my system. Then I reach down to my kitty plush, Coventry, lying on the floor next to my bed. My dad bought him for me when I was little. I spent years holding on to him to help me fall asleep. There was something about a stuffed animal that felt familiar. Knowing he was there was all the comfort a little girl needed to feel safe enough to fall asleep in a room without a night-light.

I need that comfort now.

Mom didn’t talk to me when I came home and I went straight to my room. Kaitlin, my stepsister, didn’t even say hello when she saw me this morning. Maurice, her father, courteously engaged in small talk with me. Yet that didn’t make the welcome back remotely warm. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

But never coming out of a hole will be impossible. I have school—college, actually—on Monday. I remember those days when I looked forward to this day with a gleam in my eye. There is something about it I dread now, although I can’t quite put my finger on it. The only thing I look forward to about college is my best friend Lyndsay.

She is not only my best friend but also my cousin. Since her mom and my mom are sisters, the nurse factor played a role in her life as well. Aunt Faith may have become a nurse but it wasn’t immediate. She got pregnant with Lyndsay right after high school, which ended up putting college on the back burner. Once she was able to, she became a nurse’s aide. My mom thought she could have done better than that. Aunt Faith was fine where she was and didn’t care what my mom thought. This created a little bit of a rift between them, but they have learned to get along for our sake. Mom was slightly vexed at Faith not promoting nursing to Lyndsay, but considered it a victory when she chose to pursue that career after all.

Lyndsay was the only person to comprehend why I ran away. She knew very well how I felt about Chevy. There were some times when I didn’t think she understood, but then she could see my connection to him had significance. Nobody else could see it in him. To the world, he was nonchalant; to me, he was compassionate. To the world, he was the person who would never settle down; to me, he was the opposite when given the chance.

I took that chance.

I needed to throw everything out in the open and let the chips fall where they may. He needed to know how I felt about him. I was never willing to admit it, except to myself. Even Lyndsay didn’t realize the full scope. He was always the boy all the girls were after. The one they all wanted to date. I was optimistic. I thought I had nothing to lose. I thought I knew him. I thought love would conquer.

Those high hopes led to an epic fall.

It's like exposing film to the light. All of the pictures are ruined instantly. Drained of all color, just like my face in that moment. I had just given him my heart. Bared my heart open. Wide open. Let him in. Allowed him to stomp down, shatter, crush, and tear to pieces the last of the love I had to spare in me.

He probably thought he was letting me down easy, leaving me with my dignity. He had good intentions is what they would say. The senseless girl believes he really does want to preserve the friendship. It wasn’t good intentions, or letting me down easy. That is what I told myself.

I knew better.

At least I thought I did. I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe it's possible he wasn't trying to protect me. The hurt in his eyes from earlier flashes back into my mind. The vulnerability. The despair. He claimed we were never friends to begin with but he was lying. He felt something—exactly what it was, I don't know. It's more likely he was protecting himself.

Now I'll never know.

All summer I attempted to push our memories out of my mind and fill the void with anything else. As much as I tried to fight it, to forget him, it was to no avail. The feelings lingered; they were in my heart, just as they are still.

I close my eyes and allow the memories to flood in. The times he made me laugh when I was having a bad day. The time we were making fun of that one substitute teacher who never shaved her legs and wore pantyhose. And all the times we sat side by side passing a notebook discreetly to have a conversation without the librarian knowing. Did it all mean nothing? Was I kidding myself? Did he ever feel it too? Did I really love him or did I only think I loved him? I scan these memories searching for an answer.

What could I have done differently? How different would my life be if I chose another path? From where or which way would things come together? Could I make my family proud? Could I create a path that brings me joy? Could I find a way to make everything right again?

The same words roll over and around in my head, making me dizzy over their continual loop.

What if I…and if he…then we could have…but if only we…

Oh, if only.

I fall asleep that night with a trail of tears sliding down my cheeks.

Buzz…buzz… “…that’s what they said anyway. I thought it was a good…” Slam!

My alarm clock is set to a local all-talk-no-music radio station. The annoying sounds before and the talking always get me up in the morning. If there were music playing, I would keep sleeping. Groaning, I stretch out my legs, still aching from the tossing and turning last night. Remembering moment after moment with Chevy, replaying the conversation in the cemetery. My mind refused to let me relax.

A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s eight. Wait. Eight? I do a double take. Sure enough, it’s eight. I could have sworn I set it for nine thirty so I could sleep in a bit. I will myself to sleep in another hour and a half. After fifteen minutes of staring at the ceiling, I sit up and rub my eyes. As strange as it is to be in my room again, it looks almost like I never left.

I stretch and go over to my vanity to brush the tangles out of my auburn hair. When I look in the mirror, I notice something different about my clothes. Hadn't I worn the pink and blue striped tank to bed? Why am I wearing the yellow and gray polka dot one? Rolling my eyes, I have a feeling this summer has warped my thought processes.

I throw on a cardigan and head out my door to grab a bagel for breakfast. Kaitlin’s bedroom is across the hall from mine. Her door is open. What is she doing up so early? She is hardly ever up before I am. I peek in to find it empty. Maybe she is in the kitchen.

Before I walk away, I do a double take. Why is Kaitlin’s room pink? She and my mom painted it while I was gone. It was a pale shade of purple yesterday. That’s weird. I shake my head and go to the kitchen. My mom and Maurice are at the table drinking coffee. Maurice looks up from the paper and says, “Good morning.”

Although the tone in his voice seems more cheerful than it should be, given the circumstances, Maurice can sometimes rise above bad things. It’s probably the pale yellow walls. Yellow just seems to bring about a sunny attitude. My reply is automatic, “Morning.” I pull out a bagel and toss it in the toaster. Deciding to extend an olive branch while I wait, I say, “Morning, Mom.” I sneak a glance in her direction to find her smiling.

Smiling?

“Morning, sweetie,” she says.

Is she...happy?

I hide behind the refrigerator door to get the cream cheese before she can see the bewildered expression on my face. There is no rational explanation for her nice demeanor, but I'm not about to question it for fear of ruining the moment. Just spread the cream cheese on the bagel and eat it. Leaning against the counter, I turn to face her again.

She says, “So, are you ready for today?”

“What’s today?” I ask right before I take a big bite.

She gives me a look of impatience as she walks over, putting her dirty dishes in the sink. “Of course you will be a funny girl today.”

As I absently stare at the back of her head, I see something off. Is her hair shorter? It was closer to her shoulders yesterday...wasn’t it? “Did you get your hair cut?”

“Of course I got my hair cut, you were there, sweetie.”

I was? I shake my head again. “Where’s Kaitlin?”

“Taking a shower.”

Maurice says, “She told me she wanted to watch another episode of your show before we leave but there probably won’t be time.”

“Oh.” Earlier this year, Kaitlin was going through my DVDs and discovered The O.C. Once she started, she was hooked. We started to watch it together, her for the first time and me for probably the seventh time. The last one we watched was episode twelve. We were going to watch the rest of the series over the summer. It didn’t go as planned. She finished it by herself. Did she restart? I finish off breakfast. “Hey, wasn’t her room purple yesterday?” I can still picture the color in my head.