“Look Evangeline,” he began, ruffling his hair in a half-agitated, half-embarrassed manner. “This is really hard for me to say this. I don’t want to say this, but...”
He trailed off, leaving an awkward pause and a gut wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach.
In my mind’s eye I watched myself telling him that he didn’t have to do this; that we could move pass this. He would listen and then apologise for being a fool, kissing me with such zealously that I would no longer be able to stand up without the support of his strong, lean arms.
Unfortunately, that’s the problem with dreams. They rarely concur with reality.
“I...Evangeline, I’m sorry but I can't do this anymore.”
"Do what?" I asked.
My voice sounded robotic and empty of emotion. I stood rigid, my hands pinned either side of me - a contradiction to what I was actually feeling. Inside I was like a scared little child, trembling with dread. What if he didn't answer? What if he just stared at me like I was a complete idiot, and then walks away and never talks to me again?
"I can't love you."
The words were rushed and full of confusion, but it hit me harder than any other break up line I had ever received. Was it even a break up line? He didn’t even say it’s over. I was so mystified that for a few minutes I forgot to burst into tears. I just stood there waiting for him to ask if we could be friends or smirk and tell me it was all a sick joke. But Adam wasn’t like that. Instead he offered to walk me home one final time.
“I don’t want your pity!” I shrieked at him, all thoughts of my dignity forgotten. Although the tears had evaded me, anger definitely hadn’t. I spun around and jogged off home.
It wasn’t until I locked myself in my bedroom that I mustered up the will to cry. It started off lightly with only a few teardrops sliding down my cheeks and off the bottom of my chin. Then the hot liquid began to cascade out of my eyes, soaking my pillow as buried my face into it.
Just like a typical teenage girl who had been dumped by their boyfriend, I cried myself to sleep that night. The last thing I remember were my sobs getting quieter and my heart rate decreasing into a steady, restful beat.
Soon I was dreaming about sitting on a verdant hill, watching the sun descend peacefully. I looked to my left and right, expecting Adam to be sitting beside me, appreciating the fading splendour of the sunset. With a pang of bitterness, I saw only an empty patch of grass swaying gracefully in the breeze.
I cried out in anguish. Not even in my dreams could I fabricate an alternate world where Adam still wanted me! Frustrated, I forced clawed hands into the hill and tore out the lush grass clump by clump.
“You know, we’re all just blades of grass.” Adam’s speculative voice drifted towards me. I froze. “It’s only a matter of time before one of us is ripped away from our warm, anchoring soil, carried off by the hands of the Great Wind and into the unknown.”
I gazed at the grass still stuck to my sweaty palms. It shrivelled up and disintegrated until it was nothing but dust, soon snagged by the wind and wafted away.
I spent Sunday indoors, ignoring the calls from my worried friends and only leaving my room for meal times. If my family noticed my sudden withdrawn behaviour, they did not show it. Besides, Dad was too busy tinkering with his new computer, Mum was out and Mike was jamming in the basement with his stupid band.
In the evening I didn’t expect sleep to come easy, but surprisingly it did. Maybe I’m depressed, I thought hazily as I drifted off back to Dream Land. I heard somewhere that one of the symptoms of depression is sleeping a lot...Didn’t seem so bad at the time...Perhaps I’d never wake up...That didn’t seem so bad either...
I see a tissue resting on my palm. Its stained red.
Before I have time to react a gust of wind comes and carries it away, but the image is still emblazoned in my mind.