What If?

“As human beings, I believe we are entitled to the unending dependency on hope. An inspired vision that puts unreal expectations in our heads. Urging a constant wonder that pushes us far past our goals. Why that is, you might ask. Well, it has to do with the unavoidable question, what if? What if this ends in the worst way possible? But what if it is the best thing for me all throughout the whole process? The daily battle between practicality and bravery. Many people struggle with finding the balance. I have found that it lies in the simple but underestimated system; pros and cons. So, what if something goes terribly wrong? What would you lose? Would the loss mean more to you than the regret of not following the risk? 

I struggled with this question many, many times when writing my novel. In fact, I don’t think there was a single moment where I actually was completely sure of my decision. Constantly contemplating giving up, worrying that even at the end of the journey, I would feel just as empty as I did when writing my first chapter. I was so scared of the possible result of knowing I put everything I could into something, and still felt empty because the best part of me… that hope, was gone for good. 

And now, my book is published and I realize that it wasn’t the final realization that was the scariest part; it was the emotional journey to get there. The thing I thought least of as the problem and instead relied on as a temporary and unimportant thing. 

Honestly, I changed a lot over the course of my writing. Grieving, moving on, gaining, and losing hope along the way. And it is because of that change throughout my life that built the foundation of my novel, creating a legitimate design of My Story.”

Suddenly, the audience erupts in applause, bringing me back to reality. And funny enough, I didn’t feel the joy and happiness I expected. Instead, I was once again overcome with the feeling of emptiness. Not only was Rhonny really gone, but my book, the last thing that tethered him to me was over, as well. My novel brought him back to life, creating an image of him that was complete perfection. I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I imagine him sitting out in the front row, his bright, cheery smile encouraging me on. How could I continue on without him?

I put on a fake smile and walk back across the stage to the stairway leading down off the platform. Instantly, I am overthrown in a hug from my mom and Aunt Garcie. This is family, I thought. I lean against them and feel myself about to burst into tears. I need to get out of here, gain my composure. I will not let anyone see me cry, especially on a day like this. 

“Excuse me, I’ll be back,” I say as I dismiss myself. I reach my car and sit inside just as a flood of tears pool in my eyes. I think back to what my Abuela had said, “time heals”. But, I’m not so sure anything could heal this. What I said out on stage, was partially true. My hope is gone because my hope was held in Rhonny… everything was. He was everything to me. He was the best part of me and now that he’s gone, it feels like I am too, a shell is all that remains. I scream and pray that the pain will fade away with it. Once again, my prayers are left unanswered. 

I see mom and Aunt Garcie walking back towards the car and quickly wipe the remaining tears from my face. I miss Abuela too. She would be the only one who would see that I am hurting under the surface, under the fake smile. 

The ride home is full of loud chatter and comments about how remarkable the experience was. I nod a few times but don’t fully engage myself in the conversation. I can’t stop thinking about Rhonny. 

When we arrive home, I park carefully aligning the red Sudan next to mom’s white Kia. After Rhonny committed, I moved back in with Aunt Garcie. Mom spent most of my youth in and out of prison and the court determined that I would live a better life with Aunt Garcie. Now, mom is better, but she doesn’t have a stable financial income to support another person in the household. 

Later after dinner, I head straight to my room. I want to be alone. Being alone means quiet, and silence means harmless. I end up falling asleep sometime because I wake up later to the same awful nightmare I witness every night. I picture Rhonny sitting numb against the cold metal counter in the kitchen. Bright, red, blood gushing from the stab wound in his chest. I scream. Just like every other night Aunt Garcie comes rushing in and cradles me in her arms. She comforts me as I burst out crying. 

After I’ve settled down, Aunt Garcie grabs my hand in hers. “Rebecca, I think you should get some help. Just to get you back on your feet again. You’ve been having these nightmares every night since…” 

I feel something catch in my throat. I know she’s probably right, but just the idea of talking about what happened puts my stomach in knots. 

“You mean, like a shrink?” She nods her head.

“I think maybe talking about things may help you move on.”

“Move on? I can’t just move on. I don’t want to move on. I want Rhonny to come back. I wish it was his hand I was holding… if I had known he needed me, I could have helped him. I should have known. I should have known.” I scream the last part as I punch the bed in anger and regret. Another set of tears stream down. 

“It is not your fault. Do you hear me? Rebecca, look at me.” Reluctantly I turn my gaze to her eyes. 

“It is not your fault. There was no way you could have known. And even if you did, I doubt there was anything you could have said to make it all seem better. If there was any chance of changing his mind, he would have come to you.” I slowly nod my head, but suddenly it feels too heavy to hold up anymore. I slowly retreat back to my pillow and before I know it, I am out again. 

3 months later

I grab my backpack from the chair at the kitchen table and make my way to the door. Today is the first day back to teaching. I had taken off during the finalization of my novel and then summer had passed. It feels weird going back to school… after everything that has happened. But, I know it is time. Remember Rebecca, Calm. It was a new trick I learned in therapy which I found to be very helpful the past three months. Just thinking of the word, brought on a sense of peace. I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the front porch. Time for the next chapter in My Story.