Come On, Sweet Catastrophe

Even though he never mentioned it, I knew Ryan could tell something was wrong with me. No matter how he looked at me--Whether it was mid-laugh or a scowl or a frown or even a little smile, there was always some hint of concern etched in his features. Sometimes, it was a crinkled brow, or a quivering bottom lip, or somewhere deep in his glassy blue eyes, but it was always there. Always urging me to say something--To tell him why I was this way, but I could never comply. You should know by now that I am far too much of a coward to do the honest thing. 

I must sound like a broken record now. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve Ryan's love. Blah blah blah--It's so redundant, but I only repeat it because it's true. I didn't deserve to be happy. I didn't deserve Ryan. Hell, I didn't even deserve Derek! That didn't mean I intended to do what was right--To fix it. Isn't that just the most hideous thing? There is only one thing worse than a terribly selfish person--It's a person who knows they're terribly selfish and doesn't do a thing to change it. 

I was such a mess lately. I was always crying, always angry--Mainly with myself, but also with anyone who got in my way. I was always lost in thought, trapped inside my head. Speaking was becoming increasingly difficult and I wondered if I was becoming a mute. That can be brought in by some traumatic event, right? Maybe the stress of the situation would cause me to never speak again. 

But really, would that be such a bad thing? No.

It had been a couple weeks since I had last seen or spoken to Derek. I wanted to see him, to talk to him. Even if it was just through a text message or something, I wouldn't mind. I just missed him. I always had this urge to go see him. I even drove past his house every single day. It took everything in me to keep driving past, rather than pulling into his driveway. Sometimes, his car was there, but sometimes it wasn't. I wondered what he'd do if I let myself inside and waited for him. I would always remember that silver key that he had given me all those years ago, when I had accidentally locked myself out of his house without a jacket or shoes. He and Sadie had gone to work and I was sitting on their porch, shivering with teeth chattering, waiting for them to come home. He had forgotten something and came back half way through the day, hours earlier than I was expecting him to. He laughed at me and the situation I had gotten myself into, making me my own key the very next day. He was always so sweet to me.

Uh, anyways...

I wasn't mad at him anymore. He was upset and he had every right to be. What he said hurt--It hurt a lot, but it was true. I was acting like a kid and I needed to grow up. 

It was hard to be happy with Ryan when I was feeling so guilty. If I loved Ryan--Really loved him, I wouldn't be missing Derek when I was with him. When I was with Derek, I had forgotten that Ryan even existed. If I wasn't able to get lost in Ryan as easily as I could get lost in Derek, surely, that meant that I wasn't meant to be with him. Right? 

For the next few days, I didn't talk to anyone. I stayed inside my bedroom, only leaving to go to class or use the washroom. My floor was littered with pieces of crumpled paper that I had written lists of pros and cons for both Ryan and Derek. I wrote down the things I liked and didn't like about both of them, but that only seemed to make me more confused. I shouldn't sit back and try to remember all the good things that I loved about the boy I was breaking up with and then think about all the bad things I hated about the man I was leaving him for.

I was laying in the middle of my bed, curled into the smallest ball I could manage. My sheets were wrapped around me, so tightly that I could barely love my limbs. I was so close to falling asleep. My thoughts had finally quieted enough for me to drift off to a much-needed rest. For the first time in the last few days, I felt okay. 

But then there was a knock at my door. I chose to ignore it, relaxing deeper into my plushy mattress. They knocked again, though, and again. They didn't walk away, like I hoped they would. I heard the door hinges creak shrilly as the door opened slowly. I inwardly groaned, wondering what in the world my mother had to say that was so important. I just wanted to be left alone. I thought I made that pretty clear. 

"Ruth?" 

The soft sound of his voice made my muscles tense and my heart start hammering in my chest. I slowly lifted my head from my pillow, looking up at Ryan. He stood at the side of my bed, his hands in his pockets and three days worth of facial hair lining his jaw. 

"Ryan," I breathed, pushing myself up onto my elbows. He smiled weakly, lowering onto the bed beside me. "What are you doing here?" 

He shrugged his shoulders, looking around my bedroom. "Well, I haven't heard from you for a few days and you haven't been answering any of my texts or calls..." I looked away from him guiltily, chewing on the inside of my cheek. "I just wanted to see if you were okay--If we were okay." He let out a long, tired sigh, reaching over and taking my hand. "Are you mad at me? Have I done something wrong?" 

I kept my gaze downcast on our connected hands, noting the way our fingers did connect quite perfectly, almost like two matching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. "No, you haven't done anything wrong, Ryan. I'm not mad at you." 

I was finally able to look up at him because what I said was true. Ryan hadn't done anything wrong and I certainly wasn't angry with him. I had been staying away because of me and the guilt I felt every time I looked at him.

"Promise?" He whispered, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze. 

I stared at him for a long time, torn between whether I should kiss him or break up with him. I ended up doing neither of those things, just nodding my head lightly. "Promise." 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to my forehead and smoothing my hair away from my face. "Good." He smiled weakly at me, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes. He didn't look convinced, but chose not to pry, slowly rising into a standing position. "We still have to talk, though. I know something isn't right. So, let's pack up some clothes and you can stay with me for the weekend. We'll talk there, alright?" 

Against my better judgement, I did what he had asked. Partly because I wanted him out of my room before he chose to read what was written on the papers on the floor, and partly because I just wanted to be near him. One last weekend, I promised myself. Then I'd tell him everything. Even if I didn't end up with Derek, I'd still want Ryan to know. I could never live with a secret like that. 

I followed Ryan out of my house and into his car. The ride back to his place was quiet, except for the soft music he had playing. He mumbled along to the songs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. I found myself smiling at some point, shamelessly watching him. He never looked at me, but I could tell by the grin on his face that he knew he had my attention. One last weekend. One last weekend to be with Ryan. I planned on making the most of our last hours together. I wanted to look back and remember this weekend over all the bad stuff I had done. I wanted him to remember this weekend when he remembered me. 

So, in light of keeping this weekend fun and memorable, we never did get around to talking.