by Gray, Ace
See, I want to tell you what you meant to me. I want to show you how it felt and make you understand. I want to ask if you love me that much. Or if you will. Will you love me enough to make me forget?
But that’s the other reason that I should read them. I should feel the agony sharp in my chest. The weight around my ankles dragging me down. I should read them and ask myself if I want to do that again.
Because you can’t love me enough to make me forget.
At least I don’t think you can. I know you—not all of you, I could never presume to know all of you—but enough. Enough to know that you are not wild, unrestrained, and free. That you do not love like that either.
God, maybe I AM too much for you.
Maybe you’re not enough.
This all seems so doomed. Right from the start. Or the restart.
Does the universe do that? Bring together things, people, cosmic bodies that are meant to implode? It would be so cruel, so unfeeling. But then again, haven’t I called you cruel and unfeeling? Do you know we’re bound to implode and are asking me to love you anyway?
Does saying you’re drunk on me even qualify?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
It’s the only answer to the questions spinning inside my head.
More than any single thing, those words bring tears to my eyes. Maybe I never knew her the way I thought. I certainly never knew how deeply I cut her, how far she had to go to forgive me.
And now? What have I done? Will those wounds ever heal?
I set the journal down. Those two letters are all I can take for now. The guilt is back. The doubt too. All my feelings are strummed by her beautiful words.
Her beautiful words that didn’t just capture our rise and fall but her’s and Tanner’s too.
I let out a heavy sigh and set the black book of Mina’s words on my black heart. I don’t know how long it’s been since I slept. The last few days seem like an endless cycle of her words, her thoughts, because I didn’t want to be alone with mine.
Now I’m not sure either of us are a safe space.
Mina, my heart,
I don’t know how many days I’ve been up, I don’t care. I called in sick. Heartsick. Over what I said, what I did. See, I didn’t believe in you. I didn’t believe in us.
And I should have.
I know that now. You were a puzzle I tried to solve, a piece I tried to learn the shape of so that I could push it where it belongs, rather than just appreciating the shape and that it was mine to hold. I should have loved you without understanding, without overanalyzing. Unfortunately, that’s the only way I know.
You knew that. You knew me. You loved me anyway.
Did you see it coming? Did you know that I would ruin things? Did you think I’d have some pretty words to fix it all? For you, Mina, I want to find them. More than anything. But even now, even torn open and hurting, they won’t come. I suppose torn up is appropriate, torn up but not busted open.
Who would love someone like that? I can tell you that I don’t. Not right now. Maybe not ever. I’ll love you though. With all the stupid busted up pieces of me that I couldn’t fix for you. That I can’t, not even for me.
I’ll love you, Mina. More than my own heart.
James.
I smooth the pages of her notebook as Jurassic World plays in the background. I can’t sleep again and I’m not sure if I’m scared to dream of her or to dream of nothing. Maybe I’m just too tired to do anything.
Except write and make shit decisions.
It seemed like a good idea when I started—my words next to hers—now I feel like I violated a piece of her. And with my stupid, selfish feelings. Someday we’ll get past this, and she’ll have that one time I slipped and vomited my feelings, invading her personal space.
Maybe she’ll burn these too.
I can only hope. It’s the tiniest tendril of something to hold onto, but I do, carefully, in case it breaks, as I get up off the couch and turn off the roar of a T-Rex on TV. I push her journal back into a place on the shelf and decide that I’m going to eat.
I’ve done enough of wallowing and ruining. I know that now. Now that I’ve written in her journal and wrecked her personal space.
My movements and still slow, rickety, and the ghost of pain follows each and every one. But I make myself make them. I make myself move forward. I did this. I can’t stay stuck in Mina forever. As much as I want to.
The walk to the store is still laced with her. With us. But I make myself keep going. I even make myself call Jonas and say that I’m better, that I’m coming to work tomorrow.
My stomach isn’t really up for it, but I pick out some of my usual favorites at the store. I’ll eat them whether I’m ready or not. I’m determined not to stoop so low again.
I turn the corner only to be physically taken aback and emotionally laid low. Mina is there, a small shell of herself, staring vacantly down at an empty basket.
“Mina.” I breathe her name, and she slowly looks up at me and cringes.
I don’t know what to say. Sorry, I love you, you’re stronger than this, I’m the worst, what do we do now all come to mind but they aren’t right. Nothing is right when she’s over there and I’m over here. I can’t hug her or hold her or kiss away that lifeless look.
“Hi,” she manages.
“I didn’t mean to invade your space.” I start backing up, slowly, even though I don’t want to leave.
“It’s the grocery store, James.” She sighs. “The only one for thirty-five miles. It’s not my space. You’re not invading.”
“I didn’t mean to all the same.”
Her throat wobbles and something sharpens infinitesimally behind her eyes.
“I’ll just…” I don’t know what else to say so I turn and round the end cap.
As soon as I’m out of the aisle with her I sag against the shelves and blow out a deep breath. I made myself hold onto that tiny thread of hope to get out of the house but it has snapped and shriveled out of reach. Which is fine because I don’t even want to hold it anymore.
It’s going to be like that. Every time I see her. She’s going to steal words and breaths and beats of my heart.
I drop my basket beside me and push up from my perch. The sun is brighter when I stumble outside. Blinding even. And the wind whistles through my hollow insides.
Somehow I make it home. Well, Mina’s home and I settle back into my partially formed depression on the couch. I’ve watched everything that isn’t a Christmas movie in her library but nothing helps. So I simply flip to White Christmas and keep my fingers crossed.
“What is that smell?” Courtney calls from somewhere near the kitchen. I close my eyes and begin to count to ten. She interrupts at seven. “Good God, is it your dead body?”
“Yes,” I grumble.
“Good to know.” She nudges me with her toe.
“What do you want, Courtney?” I shove at where her foot came from without opening my eyes.
“Well,” her tone shifts as she takes a deep breath, “Mina’s back.”
“I know.” Fuck do I know.
“I’m sorry. I thought she was getting back tomorrow.” She plops onto the couch beside me.
“Why are you sorry?” I finally bother to open my eyes as I loll my head toward her.
“I was going to warn you.”
The corners of my lips turn up. It’s not quite a smile but…sort of. “That’s thoughtful.”
“I’m not heartless.” She shrugs.
“I wish I was,” I mutter.
She reaches her hand toward me then thinks better of it. “I just came to get some stuff for her.”
“Not to tell me I am?”
“What?” She arches her eyebrow.
“Heartless. I figured you were here to tell me I’m heartless. Never mind.” I waved her off halfheartedly then let my head roll b
ack.
“You’re not heartless.”
“Tell that to Mina.” Her name, her ever loving name that punches alphabet shaped holes in me.
“I’m not sure what to tell Mina.” She sighs. “She just keeps asking what happened, what changed.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she knows you. She knows what spooks you and what makes you pull away and she didn’t see it coming. She just can’t find the moment or the sentence or whatever that she’s looking for. I wish I could tell her.” She bounces next to me, folding her knee up to the couch seat while twisting toward me. “You could tell me. I could play owl and tell her. Then she gets the closure she needs, and you get the weight off your chest. Bam. Done. Operation Move On complete.”
“Play owl?”
“Harry Potter, duh.”
“Oh, right. I just watched all those.” I recall the movies I watched sometime two days ago and try not to think about how I teared up when Hedwig died. Or when Ron and Hermione finally kissed.
“You’ve just been here? Watching movies?”
“Watching her movies, reading her books…” I roll my hand over and over so that it says the ad nauseam that I don’t want to admit to.
“You didn’t drink her shampoo, did you?”
“What?” My face crinkles as I shoot Courtney one hell of a look.
“It’s from a movie.” She rolls her eyes. “Freddie Prinze Jr. misses his ex so much he drinks her shampoo.”
“If I thought that would help…” I mean I’m only a few days away from that anyway. Assuming Courtney doesn’t take Mina’s shampoo, of course.
“I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
“Operation closure and whatnot.” I sigh and push up from the couch. “Courtney, as much fun as this is, I said I’d go back to work tomorrow, so I have a lot of wallowing to fit in before now and 7am. Would you mind grabbing her things and heading out? If you want to tell her anything, tell her that she can have her house back.”
“We’ll figure that all out,” she says softly as she gets up and starts to move around the room. I simply flip from the closing credits of Miracle on 34th Street to Home Alone.
From time to time I watch Courtney flit about the house, mostly because I’m curious what she might be grabbing for Mina. A big duffle sits at her feet as she starts thumbing through the bookshelf. My breath catches as she passes where the journal is supposed to be. Her face creases but she doesn’t ask me. I definitely don’t offer.
But then she stops on a different book. “I’ve been wondering where this was.”
“What are you doing?” I spring up more lively than I’ve been in days.
“Taking back my book.” She flips open the cover of the photography book. That used to sit next to the yellow-bound camping guide. “I swore I lost this in the move, but that little minx took it.”
“No.” The world seems to slow as I bolt for it. “Don’t.” I finally get there and rip it from her hands.
“James, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Her hands curl around the book.
Mine do too. And I yank.
She braces against me. “I knew you were a little off it lately, but you’ve gone crazy. Rabid.” She tries to angle her elbow into my chest and box me out.
“Please don’t, Courtney.” I pull harder and throw an elbow right back.
“It’s my book.”
“It’s…” Well, I can’t say what it is to me, but I can keep her from getting it. I wrap my leg around hers. “It’s none of your business.”
“What?” she asks without giving up her hold on the book.
“Please.” I’m not sure when my voice went ragged.
Courtney’s grip doesn’t lessen but she twists to be able to see me. She stares long and hard into my face, and what she sees I’ll never know, but she lets go of the book. It flies into my chest with a thud, and I suck in a deep breath.
I clutch it to my chest. She backs away. Just in time for the letters to slip from the pages…and drift on some unseen current to the floor.
“What’s that?” Courtney’s voice seems a million miles away. And under water. Or maybe I’m underwater. Drowning in what’s about to happen.
Nothing. I swear I say it. I know my brain tells my mouth to make that word. And maybe I do but Courtney ignores me completely, bending to grab the color photographs of Mina’s writing off the floor.
In her crouch she shuffles them. Then pauses. “James, what are these?” she asks again, still inquisitive. But then she brushes across the single handwritten piece of paper from the package. The one from Tanner. “James, I’m going to ask you again, what the hell are these?” This time the anger audible as well as palpable in the room. “What in the ever-living fuck did Tanner McInenary have to say?”
“Nothing.” Even to my ears it’s a weak defense but this time at least I know I’ve said it.
“This is not nothing.” Her eyes dart across the page as I grab for it. She swivels away. “This is a proverbial bombshell.” She stands, her eyes wide on me. “Please tell me that you didn’t let it blow you up.”
“We blew us up.” I sigh.
“Oh no, no. There’s no Mina in that.” She looks between me and the letters. “What did you do, James?” Each time she asks, her voice gains strength, becoming solid stone.
“She pushed me away.” I try and grab the letters again.
“Try again.”
“What do you mean try again? That’s what happened. You even acknowledged it that day in the brewhouse. In the bar,” I snap.
“Bullshit.” She rolls her eyes and for a moment I think about gouging then out. Mad is good, mad is better than sad sack broken like I’ve been. “I don’t know if you’re lying to me or worse, to yourself. You’re an idiot.”
“When things got hard, she pushed me away rather than treat me like a partner. She wouldn’t talk to me, she wouldn’t touch me. She wouldn’t let me in!” I explode. “I tried so hard, Courtney, but I could see what was happening. It was just like them.”
“You thought that because you listened to FUCKING Tanner.” She shoves the letters against my chest a little too hard. “You listened to his bullshit. And over Mina. Probably over your own goddamned heart.” She shoves again and I catch her hands, the letters, just before she shakes loose. “Idiot is too nice. You’re a bastard and fool. You deserve to be without her,” she sneers.
“I didn’t listen…” My voice trails off as the lie sours in my mouth. I haven’t been able to taste it until just now. “I didn’t mean to,” I finish softly.
She scoffs, rolls her eyes, and plops down on the bench shelf of the bookcase.
“I really didn’t but it was all happening exactly the way he said. She wouldn’t let me be there for her. If she didn’t want to talk, fine, but not even let me hold her. Kiss her. Maybe make her forget for an hour or two.”
“I highly doubt you can go an hour or two.”
“Fuck you, Courtney.” I can picture strangling her. Vividly.
“No, fuck you, James.” She rolls her eyes again. “Fuck you for not dealing with it. Fuck you for thinking that was the end. For letting Tanner of all people sway your decision.” She shakes her head and tightens the cross of her arms on her chest. “And fuck you for not realizing that it wasn’t that Mina didn’t want to unload on you, but that she was scared you couldn’t—or wouldn’t—handle it.”
“What?” My anger, my heartbreak stop short.
“You told her she was too much—”
“For fuck’s sake, I have said, over and over in fact, that I didn’t mean that. Not the way Mina took it.” I throw my hands up, the letters crumpled and balled in my hands.
“But she took it that way and it scarred her. Just the way Tanner,” she says his name with such disdain, “scarred you.”
“But…” I don’t know how to fight that. I didn’t mean to isn’t enough and I know it.
“Yeah, but nothing.
” Courtney turns back and studies me for a full and extremely uncomfortable minute before her head falls into her hands. “She’s always going to be scared you’re going to decide it’s too hard and she’s too much. She’s always gonna look for signs you’ve spooked. You’ve done it before, she’s always going to be waiting for you to do it again.”
I want to say that since I came back, since we were us, I didn’t do any of those things. The thing is, deep down, I know that doesn’t matter. We started so far back—before either of us realized—that I have a lot larger of a picture to look at, a lot more sins than I care to admit.
I sigh and turn to sit on the bench beside Courtney. “I love her for a million things but most of all because of the way she loves me. She makes me feel seen and special. She makes me feel like I’m not weird. Even my mom can make me feel like I need to be more. Different. Better. My sister too, if I’m being completely honest.
“And women… I’ve gotten that I’m attractive from a lot of them, but they wanted me to fit into a mold. They hated the disc golf or that I can’t stand horoscopes or don’t have social media. Just insert something here. But Mina… I never felt like Mina cared about my looks. She cared about me. Exactly as I was.” I bend my elbows onto my knees and let my head sag into my hands. “When I got those letters, the first thing I thought was, it wasn’t just me. She didn’t just love me like that, she just loves like that. She can write those words for me or Tanner or the next guy. All her letters said extraordinary things about her but said absolutely nothing about me. I’d never felt so small.”
“I’m not sure if I’m telling you this to make you feel better or worse. I’m not sure I even care which it is.” Courtney stands and starts walking toward the front door, barely pausing to throw the last sentence over her shoulder, “but I’m not sure why Tanner has those pictures. Those are letters she wrote to you.”
I sit staring after Courtney for a long time. Too long. I can’t quite believe her last few words. I can’t because they unmake my world.
All of it, the doubt, picking apart her actions, the impatience, the assumed demise of all that we could be wasn’t based on Tanner’s letter but Mina’s. That she could love someone else so wholly and say it in such a raw and gritty and beautiful way, is what made me start to question us. It wasn’t Tanner. Not really anyhow.