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"You are my child.” My father finally decides to join the conversation. “Of course he would come to me if he feels you're going astray."
"Astray?" I scoff. "I'd hardly call beginning a relationship going astray. And it's really none of his business, or yours, or Mom's, or John’s."
I begin to rise, done with this conversation. I don't have to sit here and justify me and Elijah to anyone.
"What are you thinking dating him?" My mother shouts at me as John pleads for us both to calm down.
I’ve had it though, and begin to walk away, but John’s words stop me.
"I have to tell you Jolie that I think, whoever this young man is, that you're only bonding with him over heartache. And once you've both moved on from that, you'll realize you have nothing else in common."
"You know nothing about us," I turn around and hiss, even as doubt creeps inside me.
“I am sure most of your conversations are about what you've lost, what you feel about what you've lost. Can you two even have a full conversation, go a day without talking about Callie and...whoever he's grieving?"
When we make a rule to. The thought makes me swallow.
Is he right? Is our grief holding us together. Are we just healing together instead of building something lasting? Even today, our lunch turned into talking about Callie and Ben. What happens when we run out of things to say, feelings to share? What then?
My mother gives a haughty hum, and my eyes snap to her. Her look of righteousness tells me she can see the questions John’s stirred in me.
"We have more than that," I argue anyway, even though it sounds, weak even to me.
"Do you Jolie?” John asks, voice much too placating. “Because if not, all you're asking for is more heartbreak. And quite frankly, I don't think you can handle any more of that."
“What do you know about my heartbreak?” I seethe, both at them causing this doubt in me and at him implicating that he has even the slightest idea of the pain I’m in. That any of them do. “You don’t know any more about me and Elijah than you did about Callie.”
“She was our child!” my mother exclaims.
“She was my sister!” I shout. “My sister. And if I’ve found someone who can relate to the way my sister being taken from me feels, then none of you are going to stop me from seeing him, from talking to him.”
“What do you think these damn sessions are for?” my father barks. “We sit there, waiting for you to say a damn word. We give you an outlet to talk about…whatever is going on with you, but all we get is silence.”
“Those sessions aren’t for me,” I spit. “They’re to make you feel better. That you’re doing something to make sure your other daughter doesn’t kill herself.”
“Don’t you say those words in this house,” my mother hisses.
I gesture towards her. “Exactly. You can’t even face what happened, but you expect to be able to relate to me, to talk to me? Those sessions aren’t for me, They don’t serve me at all. I keep telling you that over and over. That’s me talking to you, and what do you do? Ignore my every word, like you always have.”
“I think what your parents are trying to say,” John cuts in. “Is that they don’t want you to be with someone going through the same thing, and end up in this cycle of grief. You grieving, him grieving. On and on. This relationship isn’t healthy. It can’t be when it’s foundation is built on such shaky grounds.”
“And I’m telling you, I. Don’t. Care.”
My words tear pass clenched teeth, and I hear my mother’s shocked gasp as I turn to walk away. But I can feel that the damage done as I walk to my room. I slam my door and fall to my bed, trying like hell to rid my mind of their words. They refuse to leave. I shake my head, knowing that I love Elijah. That I'm certain of, but does he feel the same, or are they right, and once we've reached a certain point, he'll realize he no longer needs me, no longer feels what he thought he did? And if I have to watch him walk away, it wouldn't just break my heart. It would shatter it.
Determined to prove them wrong, myself wrong, I get out my phone and text Elijah a barrage of questions, his favorite things, movies, foods, shows, sports. As I wait for his responses, I hear my mother apologizing to John, and the door closing before my mother tells my father not to even let her set eyes on me right now. Asking him how I can be so selfish and ungrateful. So disrespectful to them and John. He’s condoning her behavior as usual, telling her she did nothing wrong, that they deserve so much more and better from me when I begin receiving Elijah’s answers. They only make my doubts grow. We really don't have much in common.
Is this really too good to be true?
The thought of losing him, of us ending, seems so much more real now than it did on the beach when I had the same thought.
I use the excuse of it being really busy at work to avoid texting him most of the night, only saying goodnight when I get home. He asks if I'm okay, but I leave it unanswered. Because no, I am definitely not okay.
The next two days I use the excuse of studying for exams to keep him at bay. I can tell from his texts that he's growing more worried as to why I'm responding less and slower, why I'm not picking up his calls. But I can't bear to hear his voice, to hear the music in it and wonder all the while if it'll soon be missing from my life. Just one more thing I'll lose. Just one more thing that will become a painful memory.
My heart is telling me the fact that he keeps trying to connect with me at all when I'm clearly trying to disconnect from him should tell me he's here to stay. That this is all in my mind. But that's just it. My mind. It won't stop replaying my mother and John’s words. It won't stop telling me that soon I'll be right back to where I was. Alone, filled with emotions no one understands. Only now, I'll be right back there with my heart broken by two people instead of one. That if I pick up a call, or let his texts make me smile like they tend to do, I'm only leading myself to more pain. I'm giving myself more and more to someone who'll just hand every piece of my heart right back to me in the end.
When I take my exam and run out of excuses, I just stop responding. Still, I glance down at my phone every few minutes at work, seeing his name on the screen, another text asking me what's going on, if I'm okay, if he can see me. I close my eyes against the hurt that rushes through me as I put my phone back down. What can I reply with? What can I tell him? I'm terrified and confused and trying to protect my heart the only way I know how.
Because right now, all I can feel is my heart splitting into pieces. And he hasn't even left yet.
