No Regrets

Your fingers tremble as you lock the blue painted door, sealing your fate and leaving behind the pains and pleasures that had been yours to carry for years. The memories that stabilized you. The experiences that cut you down and open. The people you loved and hated. A new beginning. A new definition of Bittersweet. For the last time, you trace the small Sparrow engraved just below the deadbolt, and turn away. Suitcase in hand, you head to the Station, Painfully aware of what you had given up. 

***

Brushing a small piece of lint off your new suitcase, you wonder what Jordan would think, coming back to an empty apartment. You'd left a note on the table, but you knew it would do little to ease the Betrayal. Jordan would never forgive you. Ah well, the rest of your bridges were burned, what was one more?

The sound of the tracks is soothing, comforting, softening the shame. You can almost imagine them speaking to you, murmuring over and over, it's okay, it's okay, you’re okay. Yet as you drift closer to sleep, to hazy, innocent, bliss, the words change… this was wrong, this was wrong, you were wrong. 

Suddenly, you feel very, very sick, and not at all drowsy. Your hands and your breaths don’t fill your lungs. Were you wrong? Did you betray Jordan for no reason but cowardice? You agonize over the questions, looking anywhere but at the reflection of the mouse, the sickly craven staring back at you. What if... Though you don’t say them out loud, the words taste bitter. 

“Get ahold of yourself,” you mutter, “remember the rules: no regrets, no what ifs, and no turning back.” You shift in the faded red seat, picking at a hole near the buttons. “No regrets.” 

As you watch the rest of the passengers, a familiar face haunts your peripheral. 

“Jordan?” you whisper, immediately biting your tongue. No. No. No. Jordan was part of your old life. You close your eyes, blocking out the stranger that reminds you of your best friend. 

“May I sit here?” The voice is sweet and kind, just like your own grandmother’s.

You nod, of course. 

She clears her throat, “I’m sorry dear, you seem a bit… distressed. Are you alright?”

You want to tell her that you’re fine, just a little tired, but lying has never come easy to you. “No. I’m wondering… did I do the right thing? There’s so much opportunity in front of me, I’d be free to do anything I want. I would be free from all of the stereotypes and assumptions people had of me. Free from all the chains of my past. I’d be reborn as a new person…”

“Sounds like there’s a big ‘but’ missing..”

You laugh, “Yes, a big butt.” 

This time the lady laughs, “You know what I meant.” 

It feels good to smile, but like a snowman in July, the smile melts. “I left behind someone I cared about. Someone I could have spent the rest of my life with.”

“Oh dear.” 

You feel a hand brush a tear off your cheek, and another one squeeze your hand. 

“I’m going to tell you a secret I tell all of my grandchildren when they’re old enough. Freedom is like floating through space. It’s fun, it’s liberating, but also dangerous. Without a tether, you’ll float farther and farther from the things you know and love. Eventually, you will end up alone in space, drifting and free yes, but also cold and alone. Find someone worth tying yourself to, so no matter how far you drift from the light, at least you won’t be alone.”

Alone. You’re alone, you're alone, so alone. 

“Do whatever you like, but dearest, I suggest doing the thing that will leave you with the fewest regrets.” 

***

   You trace the Sparrow as you unlock the door. Sparrows are your favorite. They seem the freest of the birds. You once thought freedom meant flying, falling, coasting, but even sparrows have nests they return to. Even Sparrows come home. 

Home.

Short Bio: I'm an aspiring writer with lots of ideas and the skill and determination to make them a reality. The only problem is confining my writing into a specified word count. I've tried, but some stories refuse to conform, and those same stories always end up the best. I'll do better next week. I give my solemn oath that next week's submission will be within 1000-3000 words. For now, I will use the random word suggestion thing to up my word count.

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