This time, I feel like there’s a ball in my chest that just wants to be broken open. It’s begging for it, as if by shattering it, somehow I can make it better.
It’s like the time I broke my nose in junior high and the doctor said I’d waited too long to get it fixed.
“We have to re-break it so we can set it properly,” he’d said.
I was so confused. How would breaking something fix it? It didn’t make any sense.
“If you let something broken sit for too long, it starts to heal on it’s own, but in the wrong way. It can cause a lot of pain and problems down the road. So even though the discomfort is painful now, in the long run, you’re setting yourself up to heal properly.”
Those words from almost fifteen years ago wrap themselves around the ball in my chest and squeeze until I can’t take it anymore.
“I have to go,” I say, abruptly.
The sweet and caring smile on Charlie’s face drops slightly, sympathy appearing in its place.
“Call me if you need anything, okay?” she asks.
I just nod, open the door and climb out of the car. Before shutting the door, I lean down and look at her. “Charlie,” I say. When she looks back at me, the feelings I’ve felt for her for four years bubble over. “I never should have let you go.”
The startled look on her face is enough to let me know I’ve said too much. But even though I just may have, I can’t bring myself to add those words to my growing list of regrets.
