Tonight, my hurt will sleep where you were supposed to.
Empty hands that were once outstretched,
Will be used to hold me instead.
We learn to self-soothe when in love alone.
And mistake actions driven by loneliness,
As some sort of twisted strength.
Day 373
I don’t remember most of my childhood. My old therapist used to say that sometimes, when faced with traumatic events we . . . simply forget them. As a way to cope with things that are just too overwhelming to comprehend, our brain will protect us by no longer giving us access to these incidents.
One of my most poignant memories is of Sabrina and me on Christmas Eve. We were in our living room, admiring the way we could see our warm breath, pretending we were smoking cigarettes. Our mother forbade us from touching the thermostat in our tiny apartment where we all slept in the same bed. I don’t remember where she was, but she wasn’t home, so we were without heat. In an attempt to stay warm, Sabrina and I made a game of putting on as many clothes as we could, even diving into our mother’s wardrobe, as bare as it was.
There we were on Christmas Eve, sitting on the living room floor, covered in layers of clothes, watching one of our five VHS movies. Sabrina had chosen The Little Mermaid this time. She’d always loved Ariel’s hair, and by default, mine, always playing with it and sighing wistfully, remembering her own dark brown hair.
I didn’t care what we watched; I was just waiting for Santa.
I stayed awake for as long as I could, even outlasting Sabrina. But, of course, I couldn’t stay up the entire night, no matter how hard I tried.
We fell asleep on the floor, piles of clothes around us, our tummies rumbling over the day’s missed meals.
I remember waking up, excitement hitting me before I could even blink the sleep away.
“Did Santa come?” I whispered into the dim morning light, my breath coming out in puffs.
I sat up and glanced around the room. And when everything looked exactly the same, my mother still not home, I felt my heart chip, just a little.
Something felt so wrong about the entire experience. It wasn’t until I was a grown woman that I understood. Children believe in magic. The moment the magic ends for us is our first heartbreak.
So, this morning, I woke up reminiscing. Because Gavin would be coming home and . . . something about it felt so important. That precarious hope and I had done this several times before.
But I pray, to someone’s God, that this time I wouldn’t fall and further shatter my heart.
I don’t know where he is at this very moment. It was my understanding that he’d be here sometime this morning.
I try not to wonder where he is while I brush my teeth and shower. I straighten my hair the way he likes it, on the off chance that he’d like to meet up with me. I even pick out an outfit that I’m sure he’ll like.
And I sit at home.
I take Carlos out for several walks when I get antsy, I check my phone and make sure it’s fully charged.
I ignore Sabrina’s texts, especially when they start to become abrasive.
Sabrina: Don’t forget everything, Denise.
Sabrina: I love you.
Sabrina: But I swear to God, I’ll kick your ass myself if you go easy on him.
And I wait.
When it starts getting dark out, my impatience morphs into a monster. I wouldn’t message him; I wouldn’t give him the same anger I’d been giving him the past few weeks.
My breath leaves my body in a frustrated whoosh.
And, for some reason, I put The Little Mermaid on. I take my clothes off and pour myself a glass of sweet red wine. The blanket on the back of the couch, the gray one that used to be his, ends up wrapped around my body.
Only when the movie is done, do I look at my phone and notice a text message.
Gavin: I just managed to get my phone charged.
My mind plays over the ways today could have gone.
He knows my number. He knows where I live. He knows how to reach me because for the past year, he’s had unfettered access to me and my time.
And yet, I sat up waiting for him all day.
My heart is no longer this immaculate thing, save for one chip.
It’s cracked and flawed and mangled beyond belief.
It is so beyond repair that it doesn’t react to today’s disappointment.
Maybe tomorrow, it tells me. Today I’m tired of being your punching bag.
My phone vibrates, and I see a text from Sabrina.
Sabrina: I’m guessing he didn’t show?
I don’t want to go into detail. Don’t want to worry her. Don’t want to deal with her.
Me: No.
I turn off my phone and fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in his blanket, while Ariel is trying show Prince Eric that she’s the one he’s been looking for.
Crying out with no voice.