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I can’t take it.
I don’t make it through the video before I’m stopping it and closing my whole Facebook app down. The only problem is that everyone and their momma is commenting on the post, and it’s a constant reminder of the love that I let go. Opening the app back up, I go to her profile and just stare at the picture of us together. We were so happy, and I was so unbelievably blind to what she was hiding, but it is by far my favorite picture of us. I even have it as my profile picture. My lips are so close to hers, and I’m whispering that I love her. She giggled and then she snapped the picture.
It is a picture of our love.
I want to go through my phone and delete everything, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I know it’s only been four days, but each day it gets harder and harder because everything reminds me of her. I want to call her, I want to answer her texts, I want to find her and just hold her. I want to forgive her, but all I see is my mother, balled up in her bed, crying. If Claire could hide this part of her, what would keep her from hiding anything else from me? How do I trust her? How do I forgive her?
I feel my tears stinging my eyes, so before I chicken out, I hit the unfriend button, and then without really thinking, I throw my phone across the hall. Falling into my pillows, I hide my face in them and allow myself to let it all go. As soon as I close my eyes though, I see her. I see her body moving to the music of the video in such an effortless way, a way I love because it’s so beautiful. I see my jersey on her and something about her wearing that jersey always hits me straight in the gut. I see her eyes, flooded with tears, begging me to forgive her and to just hold her and tell her I love her. I can’t, though. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself for sobbing out loud, I squeeze my eyes tight and beg for it all to go away.
The pain. I want it gone, but it doesn’t subside. It only grows – completely taking over and making me feel like I have nothing. In a way, I don’t. I don’t have Claire. She was my everything, and now I’m just alone. I changed; I became the man who deserves a girl like her, and now I’m alone. Why is that fair? I did everything right. I never lied, cheated, I was brutally honest, and fucking hell, I love her with everything inside me. How could she fucking lie to me? Did she not trust me? Our love? What? Why didn’t she tell me? I mean, yeah, I would have been a little mad and a little jealous, but we would have figured it out, but instead she lied. She hid a whole other part of herself because she knew it was wrong, and that makes me mad all over again.
I feel almost lightheaded.
Like I’m high on something that gives me the shakes because I’m about to see her. It’s been a full week since I’ve seen her in person. I still stalk her Facebook even though I deleted her, and I still look at our pictures more times then I’d like to admit. Tonight is a home game though, and I’m going to see her. Even if I’m not ready to. Dressed and ready to go, I stand in front of my locker, rocking side to side in my skates. I’m listening to a bunch of Ed Sheeran, which isn’t what I usually listen to before games. He’s all I’ve been listening to since I got in Jayden’s car and we drove
off. For some reason, I like his songs of love and getting drunk; they soothe me, almost.
Letting out a long breath, I look around at my teammates. Everyone is quiet, preparing for the game. I want it to be loud and distracting – anything to get my mind off what has happened in the last week. Since deleting Claire from my Facebook, somehow everyone knew and the girls are coming at me in droves. I don’t even know how they got my number or why they think Facebooking me pictures of them in their undies is going to make me call them, but that doesn’t stop them from doing just that. I want to delete everyone, hell, my whole Facebook. That is a great idea, so I’ll do just that. Sitting down, I dig my phone out of my bag and deactivate my account. When it confirms that I’m no longer a member of Facebook, I feel a little better, but then I remember that I’m not with Claire and my mood turns sour once more.
Closing my eyes, I lean back in my locker and just wait. The game should be starting soon, and when my skates hit the ice, I think I’ll forget everything. I’ll forget that Claire lied to me, that my dad is a horrible excuse for a man, that my mom cries twenty-four seven, and that things may never be the same. I may live the rest of my life alone because if I can’t be with her, I don’t want anyone else. When my phone vibrates in my hand, I look down to see that it’s a text from my mom.
Mom: Claire’s uncle and aunt are here. They said hi to me and wished me well. That was nice.
Me: Yeah, great.
Why is she telling me this? I don’t care…kinda.
Mom: I thought so. I also saw Claire. Oh Jude, she looks completely heartbroken.
That makes my heart hurt a little.
Me: She should be.
Mom: Jude, don’t be like that.
Deciding I don’t want to deal with my mom right now, I tuck my phone in my bag and close my eyes again. It doesn’t take long before the coach comes in and does his speech about winning. I don’t listen, though. All I think about is Claire looking heartbroken.
Thanks, Mom.
Letting out a long breath, I don’t participate in the yelling of our school name, and I’m the first one out of the locker room. The anticipation of seeing her is killing me and has me on edge. I’ve done well hiding out and not having to see her. Yeah, I haven’t gone to school in a week, and I may or may not have skipped out of practice early just to make sure she didn’t see me, but I did that because I couldn’t see her yet. Even now I know I can’t see her, but it’s inevitable. I’m going to, and I just have to pray I can get through it.
As I stand at the end of the tunnel waiting for my teammates, I wonder if she’s nervous. If she’s on edge and thinking of me? I wonder if she’s going to try to talk to me, if she’s going to ask me why I won’t speak to her. What will I say? What will I do? She’s had such an effect on me, and I really don’t know how I’m going to handle being near her. So I’ll hope she doesn’t come up to me.
When it’s time to go out on the ice, I take a running start, and when I hit the ice, I wait to feel good; I wait for everything to be better.
But it doesn’t.
The first thing I do as I round the corner of the goal is I look for her. When I find her, she’s staring right at me, and I swear there are tears in those baby blue eyes. She does look miserable, and it honestly guts me. Looking away quickly, I find a puck and start to play, trying so hard to get my head in the game. We need to win this; we’re on a streak, and I’m not going to allow myself to fuck up because my heart is broken. But with every turn I take around the goal, I glance up to where she is standing, her pom-poms at her side and her eyes locked on me. She doesn’t move the whole time I warm up, and when it’s time to line up for the national anthem, for some reason I look back up at her, and she mouths what I believe to be “I love you.”
That causes me to bite my lip hard as I look away. If it is this hard to be fifty feet away from her, how am I supposed to go the rest of my life sometimes bumping into her on campus? I still have seven months at this damn campus. How am I supposed to function when I can’t even be in the same room with her without wanting to jump over sheets of glass and smother her with kisses? I know I could do it; I know I could get to her and take her in my arms and make her mine. She won’t push me away. I know she loves me; she just said it. But what about a week from now? Will I sit there and accuse her of lying to me every chance I get? When she stays out late for whatever she’s doing, will I believe what she tells me? I don’t know the answer. Yes, I want her, more than I can describe, and God, yes, I still love her, but a relationship stands no chance without trust.
The game passes in a blur. I somehow score a goal, but I’m sure it’s luck since I don’t remember shooting the puck. When it goes in, the crowd loses it while I just stand there, staring at where the puck lays behind the goalie. This is supposed to mean something, this is supposed to be my drug of choice, but all I’m doing is standing here, feeling as if I’m not really here. When Jayden hugs me tight, saying good goal, I nod and turn to head to the bench.
“Get your fucking head in the game, Sinclair!” Coach Moss yells.
“I just scored!” I yell back as I sit down.
“You aren’t even here!” he yells, and it always surprises me how he knows these things. Squirting Gatorade in my mouth, I lean against the boards and watch the rest of the game, refusing to allow myself to look back to where I know Claire stands. It’s hard, but I manage.
