Torn Between Two Ways

I was so disgusted with myself. Here I was at my dad’s funeral, crying over him. Of course I wasn’t crying because I would miss the alcohol and the beatings. I was crying for when he used to lift me up on his shoulders when I was little and couldn’t see through a crowd, when he used to play catch with me, and when he used to kiss me goodnight and tell me he loved me.

Not only that, but his funeral reminded me so much of my mom’s. It had only been less than three years ago since she had died. Cancer killed her. It also killed my whole life.

We thought she was going to live. She was so strong and determined until the very end. Towards the end was when my dad started using alcohol as an escape. It wasn’t that bad then. It got worse after she died.

I remembered the first time he’d hit me clearly. Afterward, he’d looked down at me, saw the fear in my eyes, and apologized. He’d promised it would never happen again and made excuses. Then we’d cried together about Mom. I had believed him.

Then, a month later, he hit me again. And I knew he wasn’t going to stop. I got scared, but I knew I couldn’t tell anyone. I still didn’t want to be taken away from him.

I should’ve told John and Mikey long ago. John and Mikey… They were still my best friends, and look how I was treating them! Like toys. Like something I could use and replace. It wasn’t fair for me to have kissed both of them. It was worse than cruel.

Still, I couldn’t decided whish one I loved more. It was impossible for me to have both of them. It was impossible for me to just stay friends with both of them too. Not only would it be too hard, but I wanted love. I also knew it was impossible for me to pick one and remain friends with the other.

So how was I supposed to know which one to choose? It was going to hurt. It was going to hurt very badly. And it was going to hurt long after I did it. I would have to see the other one’s face every day and know that we love each other and can’t be together.

The plan I came up with was so cruel it made me sick, yet I knew it would have to be done. I could not stay here and let this tear all our lives apart. So I would go live with my Aunt Carol and save one relationship: John and Mikey’s.

Tears sprung to my eyes when I though it. I’d have no friends and no family. I’d tell both Mikey and John that I didn’t love them. I’d break three hearts. Maybe even four if you included Mrs. Way’s.

Maybe, if one of them loved me enough, they would still love me after I broke their heart. That was how I could know. That was who I would pick.

So after the funeral I pulled my Aunt Carol to the side and unloaded everything about Mikey and John on her like she was my best friend. Then I told her that I wanted to live with her after all. Miraculously, she agreed, and said she would pick me up the next day on her way home from her hotel.

One day. I had one day to get packed and say goodbye. One more day to see John and Mikey’s faced. It wasn’t enough time, but it had to be done. I’d have to work with it.

I told Mrs. Way first that night when we were all alone. I thanked her for everything she’s done for me, but I told her I couldn’t stay. When I admitted she was like a second mother to me, she started to cry. So did I, but I wasn’t swayed in my decision.

Even later Mikey and Mrs. Way went to the store. I sat on the bed in his room, while he sat on the floor. He looked at me warily when I told him I needed to talk to him.

“John,” I said, looking at him desperately. “Please promise me something.”

“Anything,” he replied, avoiding my eyes.

I moved from the bed to sit across from him on the floor. “Promise. Promise me you will never ever try to kill yourself again.”

He took my hands and said evenly, “I promise I will never try to kill myself again, Anna. Ever.

“Good. I answered, the rest of the words sticking in my throat. “Even when I’m gone, remember you promised me.”

This caught his attention, and he panicked. “What? What do you mean?”

“I can’t stay here. I’m going to go live with my aunt. I don’t love Mikey. I don’t love you,” I lied, my heart breaking into more and more pieces with ever word I said.

For the first time ever, I saw tears in his eyes. He let go of my hands and turned away from me so that I couldn’t see, but it was too late. “When?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered almost silently.

“Why so soon?” he groaned.

“My aunt is in town. I don’t want to make her drive all the way back out here. I don’t want to cause her extra trouble.”

He looked so broken. I saw when the despair and agony turned to despair and greed. “Fine. Leave. But even if you don’t love me, kiss me one last time,” he spat.

Now I felt my own tears streaming down my face. “John. I don’t think… Why would I… Won’t it only hurt more?” I stuttered.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but I don’t care.”

I didn’t answer him. I just put my face in my hands.

“Kiss me, Anna!” he demanded. Even as he said it, he pulled my hands away from my face, took my chin in one of his hands, and rested his forehead against mine.

“You’ll regret leaving,” he whispered. “No one will ever love you like I did.” And with that he kissed me more gently than I thought possible for him. I savored the feel of his lips on mine, because I knew it was the last time I would ever feel that.

John was not going to come after me. He was too proud. He would not give in.

And then he let go of me. Without a word, he got up and walked out of the room. I cried.