Please Don't Forgive Me

“Are you going to tell me what really happened?” he asked softly as he continued rubbing circles into my palm. I quickly responded by shaking my head ‘no’ until I was dizzy. “If you don’t tell me, Anika, I can’t help you,” he whispered into my ear.

“I don’t want to talk about it Garrett. And you are helping,” I assured him. “Just having you here is helping immensely.” I forced a smile that I knew he could see right through. It didn’t reach my eyes and my eyes betrayed everything I felt. They exposed the disgust, the sick feeling, the pain, the misery, the self-pity, and most of all the sorrow and fear.

“Why won’t you talk about it?” he asked loud and sternly. “Please, tell me anything. It’s me, Garrett, your best friend. Tell me what you ate for breakfast that morning. Tell me what was going through your head when he told you to ‘put your phone away’ so you would stop talking to me. Tell me what you though when you realized what he was doing. Anything Anika, anything,” he begged. His eyes looked like they were starting to fill with tears; mine were already overflowing.

“Cheerios. Multigrain Cheerios,” I choked out. He sighed, relieved that I answered a single question and he wrapped his arms around me to comfort me. He kissed the top of my head and let me cry until I couldn’t anymore. “A-and an apple. Multigrain Cheerios and an apple.”

“Anything else?” he asked, and I could feel him smile. “Anything to drink that morning?”

“Coffee. I drank black coffee—the milk was sour.” He held me tighter and I was amazed at how happy discussing my breakfast had made him.

“What else? What did you do that morning? Did you drink your coffee at home or on the bus?”

“I-I drank it on the bus, on my way to work. I overslept and I didn’t have time to finish it before I left. I almost missed the bus too.” I started to shrink back into myself knowing where this was going. He was going to ask what happened on the bus.

“Who else was on the bus? Who did you sit next to? What stop did you get off?” he asked softly, knowing we were approaching a rough spot.

“There was another U. Phoenix student on the bus, and a woman with a baby who just would not shut the fuck up,” I complained dragging the words out; to try stalling—something Garrett could not stand. “It just wouldn’t stop. The kid cried and cried and screamed the entire time I was on the bus.”

“Anika,” he said softly, “what about the boy. What about the student?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about Dane.” I stopped speaking quickly, realizing that I had revealed the boy’s name.

“What don’t you want to talk about?” he whispered gently. When Garrett tried to make me talk he wasn’t like everyone else. Everyone else got fed up when I shied away. My parents had given up. Garrett got annoyed, yes, but he was gentle. He spoke softly and treasured every detail that I would give—even that I ate Cheerios for breakfast.

“I can’t Garrett,” I choked. “I can’t. Not right now.” It was as far as I had ever gotten. Once before had Garrett gotten me this far and then I stopped. “If I say it, I have to relive it, and the nightmares don’t go away as it is.”

“I’m sorry, Anika. I’m so sorry,” he sighed into my hair. “I should have been here. Instead I was in New York and Boston and Sayreville. Instead of being in Tempe where you needed me, I was at a show in Philly.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” I mumbled, “You’ve done nothing wrong.” I looked down and then managed to cough up another piece of information. “It isn’t your fault that Dane had me fooled; that I thought he was a good guy.” He tightened his arms around me protectively and rocked me back and forth in his arms. In his arms I felt so small and broken. He could sit me on his lap and wrap his arms around me, and it would seem like I was wrapped up in an envelope. I was a letter in secret code waiting to be deciphered. The only problem was that I refused to leave the envelope—where it was safe and warm and comfortable. The envelope was like home. We went together like the winter and a sweater.

“I should have been home to protect you. You’re the best friend I have and you almost died.” His words made me feel horrible. I almost died, and the way he said it made me feel horrible. “You mean everything and I almost lost you,” he whispered so softly that I almost didn’t hear.

“You could never lose me,” I whispered.