\u201cStay the night.\u201d I whispered into her ear, almost begging as if my life depended on her stay.<\/p>\n
\u201cMuch I\u2019m afraid, the night has come to an end earlier for us than for everybody else.\u201d she replied with a delicate smile. Her white teeth looking like pearls in the darkness.<\/p>\n
She then proceeded to put on her long black coat, preparing to leave. I grabbed her arm in a quick, desperate move.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if I were to tell you I\u2019m afraid of the dark? Would you then stay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI would say, then, that the best way of beating any sort of fear is to confront it\u201d she looked at me with a gaze that felt almost maternal \u201cAnd moreover, to confront it alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sighed, heartbreaking in the process.<\/p>\n
\u201cWill I ever see you again?\u201d<\/p>\n
She left out a little, cheeky laugh.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou ask too many questions.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you answer none,\u201d I said, looking at the floor and dragging myself to go and sit at the messy bed behind us. \u201cPlease, just tell me. Will we ever?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her brow changed, from her usual happy and cheerful attitude to one of genuine concern. She then walked towards me and sat on the bed, next to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMost men,\u201d she said, measuring her words carefully \u201cwith some luck, never see me again. In fact, if I were to guess, most, if not all would count themselves happy if they\u2019d never met me, to begin with.\u201d<\/p>\n
She caressed my knee, comforting me as if I were a child.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you haven\u2019t haunted most men as me\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t haunted you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s hard to believe, given the evidence.\u201d I said, looking at the ceiling to try and hold the tears that statement had brought on to my eyes, and to avoid the look I knew it would produce in her as a response.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I haven\u2019t.\u201d she said in a tone that sounded not birth of anger, but of sadness. \u201cI don\u2019t haunt people. Everybody seems to think the same, but I don\u2019t. I mean\u2026 What would I gain from that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell\u2026 your job.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy job!\u201d she replied in the midst of a sob and an angry cry \u201cMy job, my job, my job. It all always comes down to that, doesn\u2019t it? My job!\u201d she screamed, hid her face in her hands and began to cry. \u201cAs if it were to give me any pleasure as if I did it with glee.\u201d<\/p>\n
I said nothing, my tongue tied by my stupidity and my fear of saying something even worse.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you people only knew\u201d she continued while trying to compose herself, whipping tears and smearing her mascara. \u201cIf you people only had the slightest idea. I\u2019ve heard your cries, your prayers, I\u2019ve received your hate, your curses, and all because of my job. And all the while you think of me as a sort of un-feeling monster who\u2019s impervious to your grief.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stood up from the bed, at first running for the door, then violently turning around to face me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve had seen men come to tears, overcome by pain, I\u2019ve seen women lose their voices over cries for lovers to come back. How dare you, or anyone else, link me to these things and still believe my job is one that I enjoy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe just\u2026\u201d I said, finally, after mustering up all the courage in me. \u201cYou, take from us and\u2026 We just.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou just need someone to blame\u2026\u201d she finished, filled with both contempt and sadness. \u201cThat\u2019s all you do, you need someone to blame, for everything. You are so, unable to come to grips with even your own nature. The mistakes you commit, the things you never do or say. And label a consequence the cause of something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2026\u201d I began before falling into a waterfall of tears \u201cI\u2019m sorry\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
She stopped, even slightly gasped, at me breaking down.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t\u2026\u201d she said as she approached me, kneeling to see me, face to face. \u201cDon\u2019t do that\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you\u2019re right\u2026 All of this\u2026 It is all my fault\u2026 I\u2019ve dumped everything away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey\u201d she held my face on her soft, warm, hands. \u201cYou haven\u2019t dumped anything away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course I did\u2026 that\u2019s why I see you here now. Isn\u2019t it?\u201d I moved away from her grasp. \u201cI wasn\u2019t strong enough to bear my load and now look at this; the darkness, my sorrow, you leaving. I know where this all leads to. I\u2019m sorry, I genuinely am. I just couldn\u2019t\u2026 couldn\u2019t take it all\u2026 Ever since\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEver since her death\u201d she said, softly. \u201cRight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes\u2026\u201d I admitted. \u201cSince then.<\/p>\n
I just, I felt so\u2026 broken, so alone, so lost. I wanted it to end. I was weak.\u201d<\/p>\n
She came up to me and embraced me tightly. Like if she wanted to touch my heart with hers.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were not weak\u2026 There\u2019s nothing weak in feeling the way you did.\u201d<\/p>\n
Our eyes locked together.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen what was it?\u201d I asked, not really looking for an answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cFeeling. Just feeling.\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n
\u201cWish I never felt.\u201d<\/p>\n
She reached to me and planted a tender kiss on my lips. It was warm and sweet, yet filled with melancholy, like the part of a sad song that closes a relationship.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen you would have never felt my kiss, nor any kiss you ever received, not even hers.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps, that\u2019d had been for the best. Where there\u2019s no joy, there\u2019s no pain.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut there\u2019d still be no joy.\u201d She whispered.<\/p>\n
She kissed again, then let me go and walked to the door. She turned the knob but stopped for a brief moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cTrust me.\u201d she turned and looked at me \u201cIf there\u2019s a thing I\u2019ve learned after so much time, is that the sweet, even if brief, is always worth the bitter.\u201d<\/p>\n
She opened the door, and for the first time, I saw the void on the other side.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat should I do now?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
She smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cLive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd If I can\u2019t find a reason to do so.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen, make your reason to find a one and help others do the same.\u201d<\/p>\n
Finally, she walked out and closed the door behind her. I crawled on to the bed and fell asleep shortly after.<\/p>\n
Exactly at what time I woke up, I\u2019m not sure, but the sun was brighter than I\u2019d ever seen it. The empty bottle of pills was still in my hand. I put it away and stood up to look at myself in the mirror. I was a mess of swollen eyes and matted hair.\u00a0 There was very little I remembered about last night besides the bottle of pills; just this very odd feeling of heartache mixed with love. Moreover, I was still there\u2026 still alive.<\/p>\n
I sat at the edge of the bed with my hands on my face, not knowing what to think about my situation. What should I do now? What could I do now? I looked around the room in my quest for meaning and came across a familiar sight. It was a picture of my girlfriend, Katie, and me at some barbecue some two or three years ago. Even when the doctors told her about the cancer she still smiled the same, like if the sun was inside of her. I remembered what she used to say when people asked her how did she deal with it, how did she found the strength to move on:<\/p>\n
\u201cI think\u201d she\u2019d say \u201cThat it is because I have a reason for it. I can go on because I want to live, and who knows, maybe when someone sees me living, they\u2019d want to live too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c’Make your reason to find a one and help others do the same.’\u201d I whispered, in a bit of a shock, with a tear in my eye. \u201cI\u2019ll try.\u201d<\/p>\n