Jude

I had never believed I was truly deserving of love. I didn't even know the meaning of the word. Love was like weeds growing around my heart. They strangled my lungs and cracked my ribs until all that was left in my chest was a gaping hole.

That was until I met Jude.

I first met her in a speakeasy in south Manchester. She was wearing a midnight blue pantsuit that fit her perfectly. I was pulled to her through the crowd. I hate that I was too drunk to ask for her name then. She spent the night with me drinking until we couldn't speak. When the lights came on, she grabbed me by the chin and kissed my cheek. I could smell her sweet honey perfume over the alcohol on her breath. Her skin was velvet against mine and I found myself leaning into her touch. Her lips were cool like fresh fruit eaten in the summer.

Something rolled over in my chest, like waves splashing against my heart. I didn't have a name for it and it terrified me. It was the thunder warning of a brewing storm. It was the flutter in my chest when I missed a step on the stairs. A feeling like this was described so perfectly in literature. It was bigger than one person could hold, so hundreds of words were used instead of just one.

One word was not enough for what I felt.

I walked home under the light of the full moon with an unlit cigarette hanging from my lips. I was thinking of her. I couldn't escape the nagging feeling that I had stolen her time. I never did things like that. I never went out, and I only drank when I felt sorry for myself.

I should drink less. I should be kinder to my friends. I should go see Jude again, and steal more of her time. I was helpless to think anything other than should.

The next morning was no better. I dreamt of her. I had an overwhelming sense of guilt. It was similar to the grief that had choked me for so long. The grief for my father, and an old love that I lost. I became accustomed to it, like scar tissue growing over a wound. It would never leave me.

I trudged through my guilt all morning until I couldn't take it anymore. I took my chances and went back to that pub hoping that maybe a bartender caught her name. It was stupid, but I had to try. I thought about what I would say if I did find her, and what I would do if I didn't. I thought I would eventually move on, but there was something about her. I felt stupid even thinking it was love at first sight. I had no other explanation. Maybe I had grown tired of this hole in my chest, and I finally had the chance to replace it with something different.

The only people there were day drinkers and partygoers whom I had seen the night before asleep in booths. I turned my head and nearly laughed from the shock. The woman I had spent the night with was behind the bar shining pint glasses.

She saw me and smiled. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

Glitter shined on her cheeks like the night sky was dusted across her dark skin. "I never got your name."

"You didn't ask for it in the first place." She extended her hand across the bar. "I'm Jude."

I took her hand. "Anthony."

"Tell me you didn't come all the way here just to ask for my name."

I laughed. "It's sad, but yes. It's even sadder that I was thinking about you all day."

We sat at the bar together. She gave me a beer for free.

"What's on your mind, Anthony?"

"Ask me an easier question," I chuckled breathlessly.

She set her hand gently on mine. "What are you trying to forget?"

It shocked me. Normal people didn't ask questions like that, but maybe that was the point. We didn't have to be normal people.

I wanted to forget my grief. I wanted to cover the scar of it on my heart. I've been cruel to many people because of it. I wanted to forget my unrequited love. My lost love. My father. I wanted to replace my grief with Jude. That was exactly what I told her.

Grief took everything. It took the bad and the good. It was like I was perpetually drunk. I couldn't remember my formative years, only what had burrowed into my skin. It was a sickness my body would create antibodies for, but by then it was already in my DNA. When I was in the thickest of it, it left me feeling like I hadn't eaten in days, and I couldn't walk from my bedroom to the kitchen without my legs giving out. I am nothing without my grief.

"Honey, you can't think of life like that. I think you love too much for your own good. You think you're undeserving of it, but you're not. You're not cruel. You're just in pain."

Perhaps I did love too much. So much that I ached from it. It was a terrible feeling. But Jude's words filled me with so much hope. For so long I didn't believe in hope. It was just an excuse. It was easier to be filled with grief and guilt than be filled with the hope of happiness. Hope was a useless emotion. But what Jude was telling me was the sunlight I needed for the growing forest in my chest.

"Thank you, Jude. Thank you."

It was a thing that should've been cherished. Something that held just as much weight in my heart as the grief. My heart was filled with weeds. If what I'm breathing is the dew gathered on the leaves in my organs, then this thing is what dries the earth of my body.

Love.