Dreams

"What do you mean," I said, my voice dangerously low. "That he is not here."

The receptionist swallowed nervously and took a self-preserving step backwards. "He moved out last night."

My heart sped up. I shook my head. "No. That's not possible." I ran toward the elevator and pressed the "up" button five hundred more times than necessary before finally getting in and trying to will it to move faster than .6554 miles an hour.

It didn't work.

By the time I got to his floor, I pounded on the apartment door, knowing that the receptionist was joking with me. Conrad was still here. He had to be. He would never leave.

"May I help you?" It wasn't Conrad.

I think I could hear my heart split into pieces. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay, and pasted a smile on my face, "Sorry, I must have the wrong apartment."

And then I turned on my heal and, at the sound of the door clicking shut, burst into tears.

*

The drive home was a blur. Literally and metaphorically. I could barely see because my tears kept fogging up my vision, and it felt like I did feel anything anymore. Not the wind through the open window, not the cool winter breeze, not the pain.

I was a shell of a person and still I cried.

How could he have left like that? Hadn't he gotten my voicemail? Didn't he want to make things right? Didn't he miss me at least half as much as I missed him?

Kelly Clarkson came on my radio singing Stronger, and I belted out the lyrics, my heartbroken voice cracking on the high notes.

Pulling into my driveway for the first time in months, seeing the wreath hanging on my front door - knowing this was the first Christmas without my father - was enough for me to lean my head against the steering wheel and feel every, last bit of energy, of will to live, to leave my body.

There was no point.

My mother and I had both lost what we loved, and there was no turning back from this point. We would be irreparable for the rest of our days. Forever. Broken.

I let out a disgusted laugh.

My hands when idly toward the ignition and turned it off, and I slowly got out of the car and made my way to the front door, wiping the remaining tears from my eyes - knowing it was no use to try to hide the red rings.

I stared at the wreath, a beautiful concoction mixed with festive ribbon and red and green and silver and gold, and debated whether or not to knock.

It was home, but it didn't feel like it.

I knocked tentatively and the door flew open in under a millisecond. "Sara! How lovely to --. What's wrong?"

I smiled weakly and shrugged, "Nothing. Just...Oh, I don't want to ruin my homecoming. Hi, mom."

She pulled me into a tight embrace and ushered me inside, saying that we'll save my luggage for later, but for now, she just had to show me something.

"Close your eyes," she said and even as I did so, I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Mom...I'm not in the mood for surprises. I'm tired, upset, and --."

"Hush up and just allow me to do this, okay?"

I rolled my eyes under my eye lids and shrugged, silently agreeing.

By this time we were in the living room (I knew this house so well, I knew where I was even when I was blind.)

I smelled the delicious food cooking in the kitchen and the pine needles from the Christmas tree and perhaps some cleaner for when we had family over and...

I froze.

I smelled him.

My eyes flew open, ready to call my mother out for the sick game she was trying to play, but came face to face with him, instead.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Twenty times.

"Sara," he said quietly, and his voice stunned me out of my frozen state. I unraveled. I flew at him, but not in an embrace. I pounded my fists on his chests.

"You left! How could you leave! You moved! Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw you weren't there?" I sounded crazy, upset, and I'd started crying again...much to my chagrin.

"Sara, please, stop..." He grabbed my wrists, "Hitting me."

I looked up at him. In those eyes. I saw the beginning of a smile in the corner of his lips. I felt his finger tips inch toward mine.

And I was lost.

I collapsed in his arms, leaning my forehead against his chest, listening to him whisper my name over and over again, whisper apologies, whisper that he loves me.

"Stop saying that you're sorry," I whisper, looking up at him again and smiling. "It was me. I'm sorry. I was an idiot."

"You were," he agreed, grinning and kissing my forehead. "But I was a bigger one. My landlord made me move out last night. I would've stayed. I would've stayed for you. My brother had convinced me...and then your mother..." he paused and looked over to the corner of the room, where I'd forgotten she was even there. "I saw your mother at the grocery store and she told me to come by. That you were coming home. To win you back. I couldn't resist. And I don't think she would have let me."

I looked at her and smiled through my tears, whispering, "Thank you."

She smiled and mouthed, "You're welcome," before heading subtly into the kitchen.

The second she was gone, Conrad crushed me against him, his lips finding mine for the first time in months - in years, in eons, and god knows how long.

"I love you so much," he murmured. "I'm not leaving you again. Ever."

"I love you, too," I said, running my fingers through his hair and kissing his cheek. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He grinned and kissed me soundly before saying, "Merry Christmas."

I laughed. Merry Christmas, indeed.