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I Can't Help Remembering...
by
Lindsay Alayne Cooper
Standing on the cliff, looking down into the deep blue ocean off the coast of Oregon, I think of him, as I almost always do. The sun is setting into the water, creating a brilliant watercolor cast with oranges and pinks. The wind whips my chestnut hair behind me, and as a shiver is sent down my spine, I have the definite feeling that I am ok. I am still a whole person, with or without him. But what if...
As I stand there looking out over the ocean, a screen drops down in front of my brilliant sunset. A movie begins to play, and I strain to hear the sounds. For a moment, I wonder whose story is being told. I see a girl with long brown hair sitting huddled in the corner of a bathroom, her body wedged up against the wall and the white porcelain bathtub. There are tears streaming down her face, little mascara-colored rivers, and she has a phone pressed to her ear.
And then I realize what I'm seeing. This is me. This is my own story. I had known for a while that we were going to break up; we both knew. In all honesty, it was what we needed, but after being in a relationship for 15 months, who wants to admit to that? Plus, this break-up wasn't like any other... this break-up meant losing my best friend. So I tried to, at all costs, avoid it. I pretended everything was ok, smiled when he didn't return my calls, cheerfully gave explanations for why he couldn't come over, laughed when he said something mean to me. After all, I still had him, didn't I?
But you can't avoid the inevitable for ever. I remember that Friday like it was yesterday, although it was almost a year ago. I suppose I remember because I have so many regrets. So many things I should have said, should have done... so many things to change. And as I watch this movie playing out in front of me, it all comes rushing back. The feelings of sorrow and regret hit me hard, instantly, and I feel the tears well up in my eyes. I've given up crying over it long ago, but every now and then...
I watch the girl on the screen carefully set the phone on the floor and lean over the toilet to dry-heave. She does it once, twice, three times. I was so sick that night... I shouldn't even have been on the phone. That's the first thing I would change. I would have hung up within five minutes of making the call. We had gone to the movies, my family and I, and I called him when I got home, simply because I felt it might be a good night. Ha... if only I had known. He had a friend over, one I didn't particularly like. The second thing I would change: having that unavoidable conversation on a night when we were both alone. It wasn't fair that he had someone in the background, rooting him on...
My heart goes out to that pretty little girl on her bathroom floor. She shouldn't be experiencing the pain she is right now. It's not right, not at 15, to hurt that deeply inside. I want to yell out to her, tell her that everything will be ok, although it will take close to a year. I want to warn her about the year to come.
If she could hear me, I would tell her that she will spend the next day in bed, and she will burst into tears within five minutes of getting to school on Monday morning. But I also want to tell her how supportive her friends are, and although they have no idea how she feels, they try their hardest to help her out. I want to warn her to control her jealousy and anger, and to be careful with what she says. I want her to know that moving on isn't easy, but that she shouldn't give up on guys in general. I want to tell her not to build a wall around her heart, and to let others in, because by keeping them out, she will only cause them and herself more pain.
But she can't hear me. She is in her world, and I am in mine. I only wish there had been someone to warn me...
The sun has fully set, and the girl fades away into the night. The movie screen disappears as easily as it appeared. The moonlight reflects off the ocean below, and through my tears I look up at the sky. I find a star, and make a wish. Wiping my eyes, I breathe deeply. Yes, it has been quite a year... if only I had known what was to come when I got up off my bathroom floor that night.
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