A Hue of Blu: the unforgettable love story

by Marie-France Léger

Just as I opened my mouth to say something else, the line went dead. She hung up on me. She – Blu hung up on me. I gripped my case, staring at her contact name in my phone with a hung jaw, blinking in disbelief. Blu. Hung. Up. On. Me.

But wasn’t everyone who needed healing? Did we all not find confessing our problems to some stranger not the least bit odd?

“Sometimes silence is the best form of conversation.”

Because whatever fire we had – It always turned to ash.

And I realized since the day I met Jace, we found our way into each other’s bodies, but not each other’s hearts. For a while, it melted the ice that lodged there, but it was never enough to keep me warm. And it never would be. No matter how much I shivered and begged – Some things were just doomed from the start.

Like every good friend, even if they didn’t approve of your decisions, they wouldn’t leave you. I would’ve left me.

I don’t think I was happy. I don’t think I ever was. But if I made him care about me, then I did something right.

Maybe I was his rainy day. And that hurt. That really fucking hurt. Because where I carried clouds and wind and precipitation, he carried the sun, the stars and the sky. Yeah, that’s what he was. My sun. And I was his rain. I was his fucking rain.

I held her. I held her and traced the lines of her scars, hidden beneath tattoos. I held her, memorizing the curve of her lips and outline of her hips. I held her because I could. Because in this moment, she needed me and I was able to right some wrongs. So, I held her, because a gnawing feeling told me this might be one of the last times I would.

To prove a point. Because that’s all it was. That’s all it ever was. He never did anything with me as the primary focus. I was never a priority, never first. I satisfied him, but I was never enough to fulfill him.

But as I stared at the beautiful man I’d come to know, I realized I never really did. He never really showed me. And it wouldn’t be possible for us. We were never made to last.

The right person would have never given me those doubts to begin with. The right person would have danced with me in a sea of stars or burning lava. The point is – They would have danced.

kissed his lips then, softly, to savour the taste of poison and empty promises. My final kiss that wasn’t intended to start a new – It was to conclude an old. My final goodbye. He knew it too.

One good friend was better than a thousand acquaintances.

“I’m happy that he can’t hurt me anymore.” “Well Beatrice, people can only hurt you if you let them.”

But I was no longer that girl anymore. I had me. I loved me.

Time was slow, my breathing slower. What could he possibly want? What could I possibly give him that he hasn’t already had? He sucked the life out of me. He drained me of all my energy. He would do it again if I let him. If I let him.

Today, I chose me. Tomorrow, I’d choose me. Forever.

“The best part of today, Beatrice?” Stacy repeated, a curious look on her face. A tear escaped the corner of my eye, but it was no longer rainwater. It was the sun. Goodbye, Blu Henderson. “A part of me died.”

“Why wish?” she questioned, “When you can do?”