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A sharp pain shoots up just under my ribs, like a cramp that squeezes and clenches, until I have to make fists out of my fingers and grit my teeth a little bit.
Clearing my throat, I loosen my hands and bring them to my lap, rubbing the tattoo on my left wrist. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I never said you were. You’re just in love. With someone who doesn’t love you back.”
But what if he does?
That’s always my first thought. Always.
You know, for a girl suffering from clinical depression, I’m a little bit too optimistic about some things. Foolishly optimistic.
Foolish. Foolish. Foolish. A love fool.
That’s what I am. Probably, that’s what I’ll always be.
“It’s time, you know,” Ruth says. “You need to give someone a chance. If you open yourself up, Willow, you’re going to be so surprised at what you find. I’m not saying fall in love, get married, make a bunch of babies. I’m saying give someone a chance. Go out. Have fun. You’re young. Live your life.” She folds her hands in her lap, putting down her notebook. “Remind me what you told me when you first came to me.”
When I first came to her, I was still so heartsick and heartbroken that I didn’t think I’d live to see another day. But I did. One after the other. And it’s been three months since The Heartstone Incident. Ninety-three days.
Ninety-three days of living. Of getting up every day and building a new life for myself: Columbia, a job at the Thirteen Corner Bookstore, Sunday dinners with my family, hanging out with Renn, Penny, and Vi.
And every one of those ninety-three days, my first thought is always of him. Where is he? Why did he leave? Why couldn’t he love me? Maybe all the horrible things he said were lies. Maybe he said one thing but meant another.
In my weakest moments, I’ve thought maybe if I was a little prettier or older or more sophisticated and not some fucking psycho who attacked him, maybe he could’ve loved me. He could’ve seen me as more than a girl he slept with.
I wonder what Ruth would say if I told her the man we’ve been talking about for the past two months is my psychiatrist. All she knows is that I met someone when I was on the Inside and that he never loved me.
Oh and that, I attacked a doctor; news travels fast. She doesn’t know why, though. I never told her the truth.
It’s a secret that I intend to keep.
“I told you that I wanted to live,” I reply.
“And are you living, Willow?”
Swallowing, I tell her, “I’m trying.”
“Well, that’s all you can do. That’s all anyone can do. We can try, and sometimes we fail. And sometimes we do get where we want to go. But you’ll never know if you don’t try. You have to try, Willow.”
She’s giving me such a meaningful look, and you know what, she’s right. It’s been three months, and I need to let him go. I’ll never know if I don’t try.
“Okay.” I nod, smiling slightly.
Maybe if I try, I’ll get where I wanna go – a place where those weeks don’t exist. That was always my goal, wasn’t it? Not thinking about spending time at a psychiatric hospital. I wanted to leave it behind when I left.
But the irony of it is that I can’t bear the thought of forgetting the weeks that completely changed my life. Maybe I can keep the good memories and forget the ugly ones.
Yeah, maybe that’s what I should do. Remember the good times and not The Heartstone Incident.
Three hours later, I’m at the apartment that I share with Renn in the Village, lying on the carpeted floor, staring at the white popcorn ceiling.
Renn, Vi, and Penny are lying in a circle beside me, our heads on one side and our legs raised up and resting on either the yellow suede couch or on the brown coffee table.
This was another one of our poker nights and like always, Renn cleaned me out of my money that I work very hard for at the bookstore.
I hate her.
Actually, I don’t. I love her and that she came to my rescue not only on the Inside but also on the Outside.
After The Heartstone Incident, I had to stay on the Inside for another four weeks. They strongly advised me that I should, and I agreed.
What happened was wrong. I did a wrong thing. I shouldn’t have attacked him.
I put myself and my health in jeopardy. No amount of heartbreak should result in that. I just didn’t know that heartbreak could be so powerful. But I’ve decided on one thing – that no matter how much it hurts, I’ll never let myself do that again.
Love shouldn’t make you lose your mind like that. Love could be hurtful, but it shouldn’t be toxic. It’s too pure for that. Too magical.
