Torrent on the unseen.

There is something that I have never told a soul so please pay attention. 

I hate to cry. 

It’s more than just not liking feeling sad, I hate crying because I don’t like to be vulnerable. I grew up in an emotionally abusive household where any sign of weakness was something to be ridiculed and used for manipulation. I suppose my childhood could have been a lot worse but as it stands I grew up to be a stoic person who isn’t at home with showing emotions. 

The last time I cried was earlier this year when my dog passed away. My friends and I surrounded him, giving pats and affirmations of love before the injection made its way through his body and he closed his eyes forever. When everyone was distracted with grief I quietly made my way back to my bedroom and allowed a short stifle of tears before composing myself and returning with an apology for disappearing so suddenly. To this day I’m not sure if my friends knew what I did behind that closed door. I wonder if they ever made assumptions or were simply too caught up in the moment to notice my absence but that is a mystery I see no reason to ever pursue.

As Hemmingway had said many times before; so it goes, so it goes.

Someone close to me died just over a year ago. 

Her death didn’t come as a surprise. She was born with a condition that caused fluid to build up in her lungs over time. When we met she was thin and sickly and prone to long bouts of coughing. Over the years I lost track of the times our plans got cancelled because she ended up in the hospital. She enjoyed my company because I never judged or resented her for disappearing for weeks at a time without warning and I enjoyed hers because she was such a wonderful person. 

I loved her dearly. I loved her more than just a friend but I never had the chance to tell her. We tried dating once but her illness and the constant chaos of her life kept us from a second date and eventually we both moved on with our lives. Deep down I wonder if she felt the same but I was too much of a coward to ever try.

She died a day before I left on a trip. I found out while I was getting my legs waxed. I didn’t cry at that time. To be honest, I don’t think I could at the moment even without my emotional baggage because the idea of crying in the middle of a waxing is absolutely ridiculous. Instead I simply became quiet, allowing the lady doing my wax to finish in silence and afterwards I gave a nice tip to let her know she did nothing wrong in case she felt self conscious about my mood change. Afterwards I walked to my car, drove away and started crying and yelling after the esthetician’s shop was out of view.

The next day I set off on my trip. I think most people would feel their vacation would be ruined after the death of someone close but I found it liberating. I spent those two weeks alone, reflecting and coming to terms with my loss. I knew I would never fully heal but being human involves scars unseen.

Last night I saw her.

I woke with a sudden jolt and I was sitting on a bench outside a restaurant I hadn’t visited in years. I was taking refuge from the summer heat and must have nodded off while waiting for her. She stood in front of me and smiled patiently while I shielded my eyes and waited for them to adjust to the midday sun. She wore her favorite childish top that had a unicorn made of sequins that sparkled in the light. She held her phone in both hands because the jeans she wore didn’t have large enough pockets to hold it.

I looked at her in surprise and asked if she was alright. Part of me kicked myself for asking, she hated when people inquired about her health but her smile became brighter and she told me she felt great today. She looked healthier than the day we first met.

Without saying a word, I stood up and hugged her. I could feel her; the rising of her chest pressing against my own and the smooth fabric hiding her delicate ribs that brushed lightly against my palms. I could smell, if only faintly, the scent of her shampoo. 

She wrapped her arms around me and we stood together in embrace on the empty sidewalk without speaking.

As the seconds stretched on, I couldn’t deny the world around me. The scent in her hair was from my shampoo and I knew I couldn’t feel the sequins from her top. 

This wasn’t real. 

She held me closer but I could feel her slipping away, shrinking in my grasp. Like holding onto a bag water that sprung a leak, the tighter I held the less she was. 

My heart raced as the truth set in. I had to tell her, even if this was only a dream I had to let her know.

But the words couldn’t come fast enough. Her, the street and the whole world unraveled around me and soon I was lost in a torrent of the unseen, holding onto nothing at all until reality made its way through my body and I opened my eyes.

I brushed something cold from my cheek. Wetness. Water. A tear. 

Looking at my phone I could see I had an hour before my alarm was set to go off.

So I lay in silence, allowing more tears to stream down my face in the darkness.

Sometime later, I got up and began my day.

I walked into the kitchen to see my roommate, already cleaning her dishes from her breakfast. 

She looked at me with her usual morning daze and asked me how I slept.

I smiled, having practiced a thousand times before.

“Fine, I feel great this morning.”