Marked with Silence

Four months. It had been four months since Sapphira had talked to me. She didn’t speak to me the rest of winter break after that day in the cemetery. But alright, I was expecting that. However, when I saw her at school the first day back, she walked right by me with her head down to the floor. It was like I no longer existed in her reality. I screamed after her. Later in the day, I childishly tried to corner her into talking to me, but she wouldn’t budge. I left her notes, blew up her voicemail and message box, tried to talk to her through her aunt and uncle. Every day until the day I left I tried to get her to communicate with me, no matter the means she chose. But she never chose any means—nothing worked.

My eyes were always on her. I stared at her during class, followed her when I spotted her in the hallway. I hoped that she would feel my gaze on her, and just for a second she would look up and I would get to see the deep browns of her eyes. But she never did. And I never did.

Crazy romantic gestures began formulating in my head. I ran away from home to be with her. I pissed my dad off so badly that he kicked me out to be with her. I chained myself to a lamp post so I wouldn’t have to get into the car to be with her. And I really would have done one of those things to be with her, or if to only take away the way I felt without her.

But I had to face the truth. I didn’t do any of those things. When that date—the one that caused all of this—came, I didn’t put up a fight. Although I had thought about it. I thought on that day a thousand times to drop by the school, find her, and whisper in her ear how much I really loved her. Or instead I’d bust into the main office and manage to scream how much I needed her over the PA system. But again, I didn’t do any of those things. Instead, I got into the car, buckled up, and left without even turning back to see what I was leaving behind.

I didn’t understand how it was so easy for me to leave her then, when now, four months later, it was hard for me to go a day without calling her phone hoping that she’d pick up. When now, it was hard for me to even go to school and not think about how I liked it so much better when she was in the same classroom with me. When now, it was hard for me to live with myself for not trying harder to stay with her.

I sighed. Sapphira.

I missed her too much.

I even missed the way she didn’t talk.

I pulled out my phone, and clicked on the conversation with Sapphira. Although, the two-hundred and thirty-four texts in that conversation were all from me.

I started texting, Please believe that I really regret that I didn't try harder. I miss you so much it hurts. Please talk to me. I am so sorry.

My thumbs hesitated when I thought about ending the message with 'I love you'. I quickly decided to press send and then shove my phone back into my pocket. I didn’t think those three words would make a difference anymore.


Sapphira:

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I had a text message, and I knew exactly who it was from.

There was a part of me that wished he would stop trying. There were days where I considered chucking my phone across the street, or calling him back just to tell him to leave me alone. But the other part of me knew that I was too weak to shut him out of my life. That part of me still liked knowing multiple times a day that he still cared about me.

Fighting ensued in my head. It was the same fight that I had with myself every time I knew that he had sent me a new text, or left me a new voice message. I tried to convince myself that I shouldn’t bother with anything that had to deal with him. But that other part of me always won. I had read every single text and listened to every voice message. Every one.

I missed him so badly. It took me three weeks to finally be able to think about that; I was forced to when the feeling of emptiness finally wrapped its fingers around me until I suffocated. It choked me so hard that I burst into to tears walking to class one day, and I found myself leaning against the lockers trying to take some breaths. And then the sadness tore open my heart and burned his name along its walls right next to my parents’ and my brother’s. Before then I lived in denial. I managed to make myself believe that if I pretended he never existed, that he had never entered my life and changed it so much that it couldn’t be changed back, than I wouldn’t revisit the place that I was on that January day. But I found myself there again. And for that, I could honestly say that I hated him, and I actually meant it.

I found my way out of that place a month later. I actually tasted the food in my mouth and the soft warmth of the stronger sun.

And no more thoughts of offing myself. Quite the accomplishment.

I said good night because it was getting late. The walk to my bedroom was longer than it usually was. Only when my door was shut and I double checked that I was truly alone, did I pull out my phone to read the text.

Please believe that I really regret that I didn't try harder. I miss you so much it hurts. Please talk to me. I am so sorry.

I noticed the tears that started to fall down my cheeks, but I wasn't surprised. I almost always cried when I thought about him.

I climbed into my bed, not bothering to change into pajamas. I could already tell that it was going to one of those nights, where I would stay up for hours thinking about him. I had given up trying not to a couple months ago. I would usually think about that first night we slept in this very bed together. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine his arm around my waist, and the warmth his bare body brought to my stomach and face. That night was perfect.

When I stopped trying to pretend, I opened my eyes and saw the stuffed animal he gave me at the front of the bed. I slept with it every night now, something I never did before he left. But no matter how tight I hugged it or how many times I would heard it say in his voice, “I’m sorry,” I never felt any better. I didn’t believe it.

The only person that was sorry was me, for falling in love with him in the first place.