Letting Go (Changing Hearts Series Book 3)

by Yesenia Vargas

  One day, I get the courage to hold her hand in class. My hand covers hers, and my fingers lace around hers, and I’m smiling like a fool because she’s letting me.

  We’re texting every day, sharing things we’ve never told anyone else.

  Like how I don’t think my mom really cares about me, and how her parents fight all the time but pretend to be the perfect family in public.

  We have more in common than one might think. We come from opposite places in life. Her family’s pretty well off. You might not want to walk around my part of town by yourself at night.

  She’s white and blonde and used to go to private school. I’m the complete opposite. Mexican with black hair and brown eyes, and my parents could care less about how I do in school. My dad doesn’t have the time to care, and as long as I don’t embarrass her in some way, my mom could care less.

  The first time we kiss is at school. We’re only sixteen, so skipping school and driving off somewhere is out of the question. I just got my license, but I don’t have a car yet, like her.

  So we cut class and sneak out to the other side of the parking lot, beyond the view of the security guard at the front of the school and behind several cars. We sit there under a tree, and before I can give myself enough time to chicken out, I pull Valerie towards me and I kiss her.

  Her mouth tastes better than I ever could have imagined, and she kisses me back hard. My hand is holding the back of her head steady, buried deep within her blonde hair. She’s pulling me by my shirt, and we’re scooting closer to each other until we can’t be any closer without climbing on top of each other.

  We see each other like this a few times. Then it’s the beginning of summer, and I finally have a car, and so does she, and we meet up. Sometimes at my house when my parents are gone. Sometimes at hers, and we sneak past her older sister to get to her room.

  We can’t get enough of each other. Until one day, she pulls out a condom from her dresser, and we go all the way. I can’t imagine being in a better place than with Valerie by my side.

  Seven

  Over the next few days, I catch several glimpses of that girl, the one I helped the other day. But I never get the courage to say hi. Her back is always to me or she’s rushing off somewhere.

  But I can’t help and stare at her and wonder what she’s up to, where she’s going. If she’s going to work or to school.

  I wonder what she’s like, what her laugh must be like. If she’s funny or serious all the time.

  One day, I finally get to hear it as she walks up the stairs laughing into her phone as I’m coming down. She doesn’t notice me, but I wonder who the lucky person is that gets to make her laugh.

  Another day, as I’m getting home from work at night, she’s walking down the stairs with another girl. Probably her friend. And she’s actually smiling and talking.

  Maybe she was only serious with me because she actually seems like a really happy person.

  And I’m glad that she is. Happy, I mean.

  I pick up the broccoli with my fork and put it in my mouth. Learning to cook for myself hasn’t been easy, but other than that, I’m really liking living on my own.

  Growing up, my mom had done some of the cooking, and my dad the other part of the cooking. I had learned to cook a couple of things, but not much. So now I’m having to learn to make other things so it’s not scrambled eggs, cereal, or fast food that I’m eating day in and day out.

  I taste the rice I made. It’s still hard so I spit it into my napkin. I need to remember to put in more water next time. I push it aside and go for the pork chop that’s also on my plate. I cut a piece and place it in my mouth, giving a few tentative chews.

  I spit that out too. Gross. It tastes like…nothing. I need to learn how to season meat. I inspect it. At least I cooked it all the way through. I stand up, go to the trash can, and throw the food away. I put the plate in the sink and pick up my phone.

  Pizza it is, then. I don’t have the time or patience to try to cook something else. I need to go to bed soon. Work again tomorrow.

  I’m watching a show on my phone the next night. I can’t afford cable so I had signed up for Netflix. My TV doesn’t pick up internet, so I hardly ever turn it on. I tend to stick to my phone while laying down in bed.

  I grab my stomach. I’ve gained some weight after getting out of jail, but I know it’s also the amount of fast food I’m eating. Then I think of how I only watch TV in my free time. I don’t go anywhere. I don’t workout any more.

  I put down my phone. I throw the covers off and get on the floor. I start doing pushups until I can’t do any more. Which is not that many. I sit up, out of breath. I’ve become soft.

  I go to the bathroom mirror and lift my shirt. I turn to the side, back to the front, and inspect my body at several angles.

  I need to start running. I miss playing basketball at the park. But I don’t have anyone to play with or hardly any time anyway. I do some more pushups, some crunches, and some other exercises in the living room.

  Then I pull on some sneakers, and I head outside even though it’s ten o’clock at night and I need to get up early for work tomorrow. And this means having to shower again. And I need to check if my uniform is clean. I don’t think it is, which means I’ll have to head down to the laundry room at who knows what time.

  I don’t care. I’m already in gym shorts and a t-shirt so I’m pretty much ready to head outside after putting on some shoes.

  I lock up behind me and jog down the stairs. I don’t have a lot left in my life, but staying fit needs to be one of them.

  I pass that girl’s apartment on my way down, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s up to, whether she’s home or not.

  I search the parking lot for her car. She’s not home after all.

  Maybe she’s at her boyfriend’s house. Spending the night.

  Or maybe she’s at work.

  I shake my head and focus on jogging around the apartment complex. That’s not what I should be thinking about right now. I’m trying to start fresh here, and getting obsessed with another girl is not the answer.

  Because that’s what this is: an obsession. I don’t even know her for God’s sake.

  I think about Valerie. About Ariana. All of it. I can’t do this again. I need to be on my own for a while. Figure things out. Get my head on straight. I can’t afford to love and lose again. I can’t afford to spiral down again, bringing another person down with me.

  The first time, it caused my girlfriend to die. The second time, it landed me in jail. I don’t want to think what could be next. Whoever this girl is, I just need to stay away from her. I need to be on my own.

  I jog around the apartment complex until my muscles ache, and that’s all I can think about. I jog back up the stairs to my apartment, sweat dripping down my back and front. I take off my shirt and wipe my face with it as I get to the top of the stairs.

  It’s not until I’m running past her that I notice that girl is just now walking into her apartment. I don’t let myself look at her. I unlock my front door in about two seconds and shut the door.

  The fights begin a couple of months after we start going out. She fights with her parents a lot, especially about me. Or about how she doesn’t measure up to their expectations. So she picks fights with me, and I’m just as messed up as her so we end up arguing.

  Our fights are like tornadoes. They can come out of nowhere, and when they do, they’re as loud as a train and they destroy everything in their path, and then they’re gone again, like they were never there, the only clue being the destruction they left behind. That’s how we are. We pick up the broken pieces, put them back together as best as we can, and then we’re smiling and kissing again, the still wet tears on Valerie’s face, on my shirt, the only clue we almost destroyed each other.

  It’s like this over several months. Then a year. We always manage to come back to each other. Because we’ve become each other’s home, more than the physical house we sleep in a
t night.

  Eight

  I missed the first anniversary of Valerie’s death while I was inside.

  Not that her family would have let me attend the memorial.

  It’s been almost two years, and I still miss her like crazy sometimes. Now that the new year is here, her anniversary will be here again before I know it.

  But today I’m not at Valerie’s grave because it’s the anniversary of her death.

  I’m here because it’s her birthday. She would have loved today. The sun is out, but it’s still kind of chilly. Her favorite kind of weather. Cuddle outside weather, she used to say. She loved the chill against her face.

  She’ll never feel that again.

  She would have been nineteen today. Instead, she’ll be stuck at barely seventeen forever. Because of me.

  I place the white roses on her headstone. I look around. I’m the only one out here today. I look down at her headstone again.

  Valerie Young

  Beloved daughter and sister

  I don’t read the dates. I can’t bear to. Because the date that she died is the day that I died too. And I can’t bring myself to stand right in front of her headstone. Like I’m stepping on her…

  And I just can’t.

  So I’m to the side of her grave. I get down on my knees.

  I swear when I’m by myself at home, and I’m in that state between consciousness and sleep, I can still hear her laugh. I can hear her call my name. But then I jerk awake, and I look around, and I know I’m by myself.

  Stuck. Just like her. Forever.

  I pull my head down, and convulsions fill my chest as I remember everything we were. How happy. How upset with each other we were a lot of times.

  I finally cry for Valerie, the way I’ve never been able to before. She’s really gone. She’s not coming back, and it’s my fault. I grab my hair and pull. I pull until that’s all I can feel, but even then, the pain is still there.

  It’s too much for one person to bear. I don’t know how much longer I can bear this weight inside of me. I feel it eating me alive, and there’s nothing I can do.

  I know that the only solution is to forgive myself for that night a year and a half ago, but I can’t.

  I just don’t see how I can ever get there.

  I wish that somehow I could ask Valerie to forgive me. To please forgive me, but I know I’ll never be able to do that. It’s impossible. She’s gone, and I’m still here.

  So I decide I need to ask her parents to forgive me.

  It’s about the scariest thing I think I’ll ever do. It’s not going to be easy to go in front of them and say I’m sorry. Not when they hate me, despise me, so much already.

  But I have to try.

  I find Valerie’s sister, Miranda, on Facebook. I send her a friend request. I guess she deleted me at some point.

  I don’t blame her for it.

  She probably wanted to move on, and she should. She deserves to be happy, even if her little sister isn’t here anymore.

  A few days later, I see that she accepted my request. I’m walking out of work and to my car when I see the notification pop up.

  I get into my car, but I don’t turn it on. Instead, I sit there, staring out into the rainy sky but not really looking at it. I don’t know how to word this. I don’t want her to turn me away too.

  Hi Miranda. I promise I don’t want to cause you any more pain than you and your family have already gone through. But I just want to say I’m sorry to you and your parents face to face. I know you guys probably hate me. I hate me too. But I just want to say I’m sorry for everything. I hope this can help all of us move on. I don’t know about you but I feel like I’m suffocating sometimes. Can you let me know if I can meet you and parents one day? Maybe soon? Thanks. Carlos.

  I read over the message one more time. Maybe it’s too much, but I don’t care. I need to get across to Miranda. I can’t risk her saying no, they won’t talk to me.

  We don’t have to be friends. I just need to see them one more time. And ask forgiveness. For my own sake.

  I hit send.

  Miranda replies a day later. I’m finishing up another run when I hear my phone go off.

  I don’t get many notifications. I rarely talk to anybody anymore, even my parents. In the beginning, I met my dad for lunch at least once a week. We haven’t done that since, I don’t know when. Just too many things on my mind lately. Don’t feel like talking to anyone or going anywhere besides work. It’s bad enough getting up in the morning after a sleepless night.

  So I pull my phone out of my pocket and see Miranda’s replied.

  I sit on the curb, resting my hands and phone on my knees so I can read the message up close.

  I’m sorry too, Carlos. I should have been there for Valerie when she needed me. It’s not easy for my parents either. They won’t admit it, but they feel guilty for my sister’s death too.

  To be honest, I have no idea if they’ll even see you. I really doubt it. They still don’t like you. But let me talk to them. Let me see what I can do. I agree with you. I think this would help everyone.

  Miranda

  I catch my breath and read over the message again. This could be it. My chance to finally move on.

  Nine

  A week later, I’m making the two hour drive to Miranda’s parents’ house. She had finally talked to her parents and convinced them to let me come over and talk to them.

  I’m nervous. I’m really nervous. I think about what I need to say the entire drive, and then I’m pulling into their driveway, and I’m already pulling a blank.

  I have no idea what to say.

  I place my head in my hands, and I take several deep breaths. If I’m not careful, I’ll go into panic mode right now. I’m just glad this isn’t Valerie’s old house or I’d probably start hyperventilating.

  It’s bad enough knowing I’m about to see her parents and sister. Being this close is already bringing back so many memories. I swear it feels like Valerie is sitting in this car with me. But I know she’s not. She’s in the ground.

  I get out of the car. I’ve never been here before. Miranda and her parents had moved away after Valerie’s death. To get away, I guess. From her death. From me. They must still go out and see her.

  I’m glad they left her back home, though. So I can still see her without making a big drive.

  Their driveway is kinda long, but I don’t want to park super close. I park about twenty feet from their house, well away from their garage and front door.

  I’m closing the car door and taking one last deep breath before walking up the drive.

  I’m still psyching myself up for this and what I’m going to say as I’m walking up the porch steps, but the door flings open before I can even get close enough to knock at the front door.

  “What are you doing here, you little—?” It’s Valerie’s father, and he looks livid. I take a step back down, looking from his face to Miranda’s face and back. She’s right behind him, her long straight blonde hair flying as she tries to stop her dad from getting any closer to me. I get off the porch, not bothering to look anywhere but in front of me.

  I think Valerie’s dad might hit me.

  And I wouldn’t blame him. He comes down the porch steps in a flash, and I take only a couple of steps back. He needs to say what he needs to say too.

  “Dad! No!” Miranda yells, and now her mom is on the porch too, letting out a muffled scream because she’s covering her mouth with her hands, looking down at the situation like we’re about to kill each other.

  But that’s not what I’m here for.

  “Carlos, I think you should leave,” Miranda says, taking a step so she’s partly blocking off her dad.

  I look down at his hands. They’re in solid fists, already red from the force he’s probably holding back. His face is red, and he looks away for a second to Miranda.

  “Why’d you let him come here? What right—“

  Miranda turns around and looks up
at his face.

  “He killed our daughter. He took her to that party, got her drunk, and then let her drive.” He’s looking at me again, and I’m looking him right in the eye, not daring to say a single word, but trying to say everything with my eyes instead.

  I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  “Dad, please. Go back inside with mom. I’ll tell him to leave, just please. Dad, look at me.” He finally does and starts to breathe a little easier. “You know this isn’t worth it.”

  There’s silence for a few seconds as he looks back at me. And he just looks tired. And old. Like the father of a teenage daughter. And he turns around, takes his wife’s hand, and goes back inside, calmly shutting the front door behind him. Miranda doesn’t look back towards me until that happens.

  Now I’m breathing hard, not believing what just happened.

  “What was what?” I ask quietly. I’m not demanding in any way. I just want the truth. “I thought you told them I was coming, and they said it was okay.”

  Now Miranda turns towards me, but she doesn’t meet my gaze.

  “I lied. They didn’t know.” We’re both standing in front of her house, and I don’t know what to say.

  “What? Why would you do that?” Now I’m getting upset.

  She shakes her head. “I tried to tell them, and they insisted that could—they didn’t want to see you. I tried everything to get them to see you today, but they put their foot down and said no.”

  I stare at Miranda. I notice the way she looks so much like an older Valerie. Except there are things that give her away. Like the fact that Valerie’s eyes were farther apart and Miranda’s eyes are blue and not honey brown. Straight hair instead of wavy like Valerie’s.

  I blink and look away. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

  She sighs. “I wanted you to have your chance to tell them whatever you wanted to say. I thought it would be good for them, not just you. But I don’t think they’re ever going to change their minds.” She looks at me square in the eye now. “To be honest, I don’t think they’re ever going to forgive you.”