The Dream Isn't Done

I will remember you
And all of the things we've gone through.
There is so much I could say
But words get in the way so
When we're not together,
I will remember you.



I had no idea who this person was staring back at me - it didn’t look like me. It wasn’t me. When had I ever looked this… broken?

I pulled back my dark brown hair from my face, securing it at the base of my neck. Gathering the loose hairs that could not reach back into the elastic, I clipped them back. I peered at myself in the bathroom mirror, rubbing my eyes and pulling at my skin in an attempt to rid myself of the visible signs of stress that had caught up with me.

“Quinn,” my mother called from outside the bathroom door. “Sweetheart, it’s soon time to leave. Get dressed please.”

I opened my mouth, planning to answer her yet found myself unable to form a sentence. I heard her sigh before walking away from the door.

What was happening? How could this be happening? This wasn’t supposed to of happened, my life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. This wasn’t supposed to be how our adventure ended.

Accepting the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to make myself more presentable, I tore myself away from the mirror, leaving the bathroom and heading to what was now my room.

My mother had laid a simple black dress out on the unmade bed and had placed a pair of black heels at the foot of the bed. I pulled my tee shirt over my head, tossing it onto the floor and slipped out of the sweat pants I had been wearing for the past week. I slipped on the dress before stepping into the heels and looking in the mirror. I looked like a mess. A complete and utter mess. I had let myself fall apart - I just didn’t care anymore.

I let out a sigh, sitting down on the bed. The room was so empty now. The warmth and love that had existed there only a week ago had completely disappeared. The entire atmosphere of the room had changed - it was cold and unforgiving.

Pushing myself up from the bed, I pulled open a bureau drawer. Alexandre’s things were still inside. I pulled out one of his many button down shirts and wrapped it around me. Immediately, I was enveloped in a scent that was so familiar to me. A safe, soothing scent. One that had always let me know everything was alright.

A faded red stain on the shoulder of the fabric caught my eye. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, as I remembered the first time I had ever seen Alex wear this shirt. He had worn it the night of our first date. As corny as it may of sounded, I knew from that night on, something was different about Alex. Something was different about the way I felt about Alex. We were going to be something different.

And we were. We traveled the world together, saw all the sights and wonders that our world had to offer us, experienced all the different cultures that existed. And then we came home, but our adventure continued. Instead of experiencing and observing the lives of others, we began to live our own lives. We got married, bought our first house, and learned to love each other all over again. And as quick as our adventure began, it was over.

He was gone before I knew it. I knew it was coming. I knew what was in store for us, for me. He had been fading, slowly, but surely. And as stubborn as he was, he refused to go see the doctor, not even for me. I can take care of myself, he had told me when I begged him to go after he collapsed one morning.

I knew that it wouldn’t be long after that.

“Quinn!” My mother knocked on the bedroom door, her voice louder than it needed to be. “Quinn, it’s time to leave. Dépêchez-vous! Vite! Vite!”

Letting the shirt drop from my shoulders, I left it in the middle of the floor before opening the door of the bedroom to see my mother standing there.

“Come, mon coeur,” she murmured, holding out her hand. “It is time for us to go. Allons-y, ma fille.”

I shook my head, finally allowing the tears to fall. “I can’t.” I wrapped my arms around my mother’s neck. “I can’t say good-bye to him, Maman. Not now.”

“Do not think of it as a good-bye, mon cheri, think of it as a see you later.” My mother patted my back, kissing the side of my face. “Come darling, things will be alright. You will see.”

“How am I supposed to do this on my own?” I whispered. “I’ve never been on my own.”

“You are not on your own. I am here, darling.” Taking my hand, my mother led me over to the bed. She ran her hand over the side of my face, turning the corners of her mouth up into a soft smile. “Quinn, I never wanted this for you. My daughter, you had so much life ahead of you before you met Alexandre. When you told me that you were leaving the country to travel, I thought you had lost your mind. I hoped you had lost your mind. It would have explained so much. But then I met Alexandre when you came home, and I realized what had convinced you to leave. And I realized that you loved him. That you love him.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears spilling from my eyes.

“Alexandre will always be with you, mon chéri. He will always have a place in your heart. You will never forget him. Right now, things may seem like they will never get better, like things will never be okay, but you will be okay, Quinn. Things will not always be like this.”

“But when will they get better?”

Letting out a sigh, my mother kissed my forehead. “I don’t know, mon chéri, I truly do not know. But it will. I promise you.”