I Wish You Had Stayed
I was there, holding her hand… I knew it was the end and I needed to inhale as much of her as I could; commit it to my memory for later recollection and repentance. She was staring at me with her pleading eyes, but all I could do was pray for the misty oblivion of sleep to come sooner. I rearranged her pillows and tried to give her some water. She couldn’t swallow it; she started crying. Kneeling next to her, I felt her forehead; she was burning… What could a man like me do to make her peaceful? How could such a creature suffer so much?
Two hours later and I was still standing there. The light was gone from her eyes; her voice was coming out like a whisper. I stooped closer, trying to absorb the hoarse words.
“All I wanted was to make you happy… I’m sorry”
“You already have” was the answer that died on my lips; I had run out of time. It was four in the morning when I lost her.
I can’t remember how I got out of the hospital or for how long I was wandering around. I can remember the empty streets, though, and that it was raining; that I was desperately trying to picture her face, guilty for the tears that were clouding my vision and for the unhappy thoughts that were overwhelming me. But I had to remember every single second of us. What I am now I owe it all to her, no matter the broken heart she left behind. I had to remember… How I met her, the first smile, the first touch, the first kiss. It was the only way I knew to prove to her how much I had loved and how much she took away.
One of the first things she said to me was that she couldn’t comprehend when I was serious, when I was joking around or when I was just making fun of her. I am ashamed to know that I never made her feel safe around me; that I was swirling in ecstasy, in a myth I had built around myself, uncaring and unsatisfied. Every single detail comes to me now, I can remember every little move and it hurts so much more.
When we had to be apart for the first time, I simply took her hand and asked her to stay, holding her gaze. And she did, without asking why, just knowing that I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, trusting in the false sense of awareness that was surrounding me.
The first time I visited her at the hospital, she was laying broken. That’s when the truth started coming crushing down, like a wave of lava destroying everything on its path, making souls and minds despair. I was ready to get carried away too, no matter how strong my foothold was. The power of the fire was melting every inch of hope and, slowly but firmly, it burned my own ego and her trust to ashes. The only thing that was keeping me in touch with reality was her strained smile, creepy yet reassuring; the secret expectation that I hadn’t lost her yet. She asked me if her scars were ugly now and I said that everything was a part of her. So how could they ever be ugly? She smiled that deceitful smile of hers and went back to sleep. I was left staring out of the window the quietness of an early autumn, knowing that soon I would be forced to leave behind the best part of myself. And I was so afraid that the remnant could never do justice to the person she helped me become.
The only time we made love I had my lips glued to hers, thirsty for love and passion. We were on the beach and she was afraid to get into the water, open scars always against salt. I picked her up and laid her on the muddy sand unaware that it meant so much more for her than an impulsive erotic instinct. She was giving me herself and I didn’t deserve it. Afterwards, she slept naked in my arms uncaring for the repercussions. The night had come when I finally got up and left her there, her eyes shining with unshed tears of betrayal.
It’s been a month since I lost her but time cannot fly forward when you so stubbornly think of the past. For days I feel like lost and this is not me; I can’t stand it. What would happen if I’d just disappear? Who would be worried? The only thing that’s keeping me here is her. Her precious smile, her tiny fists that can hold the whole world. I need to pick up the phone and say “I need you” but who would answer? Who would say “I’m here for you, don’t be scared”? Everything would be so different if you had stayed…
I look at past photographs and all I can think of is if we had been there together; what was she wearing, had I kissed her, had I made her smile? One year and a half and, finally, I was able to tell myself that I was well. Not because the pain and loneliness had subsided, but because I had learnt to live with them. I learned to get up every morning expecting nothing, living each day in vain until the next morning would come and everything would start again from the beginning.
I need to stop thinking; tear these few pages apart and look forward. But I don’t want to… Not yet… She told me once that through the darkness she kept hearing my voice, that it was the only thing keeping her head above the water. I wish I had a similar comfort. But soul and mind are two things incompatible. When the one is ready to take over, something happens at the last moment and takes your happiness out of your grasp. The balance is thin and delicate and I had to walk on that tightrope many times since I met her.
No matter how much I try to smile now for my little girl, I know it’s in vain. It’s fake and she can feel it.
The night we learned she was pregnant she came to my room and curled her body around me, whispering that she was scared, asking for my help. All I did was to stroke her back and let her lie there with me, without the words she desperately needed to hear. She started singing an old lullaby and I kissed her forehead, letting myself drift off to sleep.
“What do you fear so much?” I asked the following morning.
“I am afraid of you… That you don’t love me anymore… That I’m alone… That I have let you down”.
“I promise that I will be there for you but don’t ask for more. That’s all I allow myself to give”. And once again I walked away knowing that I was only fooling myself. And when the time came and she gave birth, I knew that she wasn’t going to love the tiny creature that was breathing with difficulty a few rooms down the corridor simply because part of it was mine. And it only became worse.
The morning I took our little girl home she couldn’t stop crying. I begged her to try and hold her, but she was screaming to take the baby away from her and make her quiet. She had lost what few shreds of logic she had left.
I spent days after the funeral alone in her room. I should have seen it coming when she told me that she would leave, but I guess I needed to think that she was stronger than that. After a week I forced myself to go see my daughter again, a strong reminder of what I had lost. I felt hours passing by rearranging her small furniture and folding her colourful clothes. I didn’t want to be alone anymore.
So it’s time now to end this story and store it away in a box full of memories I never want to lose and never need to disturb. But how can I truly miss you when I never really had you? I close now this notebook in hopes that one day I will meet you again… The girl that I only loved once but gave me something that I will love forever.
THE END
This story was published in the anthology “100 Voices Vol. II” by Centum Press on January 2017. The reason I chose to make it public and free for all is summarised in this previous post:
Why to stay away from Centum Press
