All the Space She's Left Behind

“Don’t go,” I tell her.

“This will be the last time,” she says.

“You said that last time,” I respond.

“I mean it this time,” she says, “I’m just getting some of my things.”

She looks so beautiful in the moonlight. Her black hair illuminated. Her eyes pleading with me to believe her.

“Want me to go with you?” I ask.

“No,” she says, “I need to do this on my own.”

I nod as if I understand, but really, this moment right here was the stupidest decision either of us ever made.

I should have gone with her.

I should have been there.

Maybe if I had been, she would still be alive.

I believe in soulmates. I believe in them because of Reyna. I was 10 when I met her. I had just been pushed off the swing by the neighborhood bully. Through my tears I saw this girl, tinier than me, offer her hand. She helped me up. She dusted off my shoulders. And then she punched the bully in the face. I don’t generally condone punching people in the face. But.

I remember looking at her dark eyes and dark hair, and mouth turned up in a defiant smirk. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be fearless.

It is rare that the friendships we make as children last forever. But Reyna wasn’t just my friend. She was my sister. She was half of my heart.

Reyna was always being pursued. Men constantly mistook her kindness for interest. Though she went on dates, she rarely took anyone seriously.

And then she met Tyler.

When Reyna told me about Tyler, I knew he was special. I could tell by the way her eyes lit up when she talked about him. The way she would constantly glance at her phone to see if he had called her or texted her.

 I had a lot of expectations about what he would be like. Knowing Reyna, this guy had to be spectacular. Intelligent, charming, witty. He had to be all of those things to get someone like Reyna.

And then I met him.

He was dull. Detached. Didn’t make an effort to engage in conversation. He was handsome but that was all. He seemed to be only interested in Reyna and in a way that bordered on creepy. He watched her wherever she went, his eyes always on her.

I didn’t say anything to Reyna, at first, about my opinions on Tyler. I felt I should be supportive of who she chose to love, even if I had my doubts.

One evening, the three of us went out to dinner. I didn’t like going with them anywhere because getting Tyler to say anything beyond “Yes,” and “No,” was like pulling teeth. I also didn’t like that Reyna was different around him. He made her…smaller.

On this evening, we went to a fancy restaurant that Tyler wanted to try. The kind of place where the waiters help the ladies into their chairs and the cheapest item on the menu is the $30 salad. I noticed that when the waiter came to take our order, Reyna didn’t look at him. She ordered while staring at her menu. And Tyler watched her closely the whole time. When the waiter walked away, Tyler asked Reyna, “He’s pretty cute, huh?” Reyna responded by simply shaking her head and I sat there wanting so badly to grab her by the hand and take her out of there. To save her. But I just changed the subject by asking Tyler how work was going to which he responded, “Fine.” He then continued to harass Reyna with questions about the waiter and I sat there watching stunned. How could Reyna let this man talk to her this way? How could she date someone who was so obviously insane? When I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned to Reyna and said, “Let’s go.” She stared at me, eyes wide in fear. Tyler reached over and grabbed my arm, told me to “Mind my fucking business,” and I reached back and punched him in the face. He fell over, knocking our table onto its side. Glass and plates flew everywhere. The entire restaurant stared in shock. The world held its breath as Reyna and I stared at each other. “Let’s go,” I repeated. Tyler moaned on the floor, calling for Reyna. She looked at me. She looked at him. She slowly made her way over to Tyler and I watched as she touched his forehead, making sure he was ok. I walked out of the restaurant and didn’t hear from Reyna for another two months.

She showed up at my apartment with a couple of bags and a black eye.

She went back to him after a month of his non-stop calling and pleading and apologizing. “He’s changed,” she’d tell me. “He’s changed,” she’d say, hoping that I would agree with her and validate her stupidity. I told her that if she went back, that I was done. That I couldn’t handle seeing her this way.

Another month went by, and she showed up at my apartment again, sporting another black eye. I took her in, of course. And after a month, the same thing happened again.

This went on for about six months.

I can’t tell you what made Reyna finally snap out of it. She didn’t really know either. She told me that one day, she looked up and looked at Tyler. Really looked at him. He was talking about some show that he was watching that Reyna didn’t like but Tyler had forced her to watch it anyway. And she went to their room and packed up what she could and when Tyler tried to stop her, she punched him in the face.

For eight blissful months, I had my Reyna back. I watched in love as she slowly returned to herself. As she laughed more. Danced more. Took up the space she deserved.

And then one day, I came home, and she told me she was going to Tyler’s to get some of her things. That he’d asked her to come and that they should at least "get some closure."

I told her that she shouldn’t. That anything she needed we could just buy. I worried that she would get sucked up in his nonsense once again.

“Don’t go,” I tell her.

“This will be the last time,” she says.

“You said that last time,” I respond.

“I mean it this time,” she says, “I’m just getting some of my things.”

She looks so beautiful in the moonlight. Her black hair illuminated. Her eyes pleading with me to believe her.

“Want me to go with you?” I ask.

“No,” she says, “I need to do this on my own.”

I nod as if I understand, but really, this moment right here was the stupidest decision either of us ever made.

I should have gone with her.

I should have been there.

Maybe if I had been, she would still be alive.