Love Alone

I sit by the old bridge and listen as cars drive by and stir up the air, carrying the faint scent of wet soil. This is where we use to spend our Friday nights together. I try to push back the memories by burying myself in my studies, but it’s too hard. Remembering makes me happy then something always pulls me back to reality and my happiness is torn away from me. I look to my left and before I know it I can hear the soft strumming and beautiful harmonies that once filled my heart with love. I can picture him sitting with his guitar and smiling, telling me he loves listening to my stories. He laughs as I tell him that I embarrassed myself yet again. A large gust of wind blows by carrying dust and taking my memory of Tyler along with it. As his image wisps away from my mind I remember I’m alone.

I cross my arms and press my lips together, trying to hold back a sob. I feel a tear drop run down my cheek so my efforts are futile and then I watch as another one drops on my sleeve—leaving a round trace. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to control my body. I try to distract my mind by reading or doing homework, but my entire body aches constantly reminding me of what happened. I notice another wet spot appear on my clothes but I didn’t feel it run down my cheek, then another and another. Suddenly my clothes are soaked and so is the cement around me. Is this a dream? Did my tears do all this?

No, it’s just rain. I look up and realize it’s pouring rain. I look back at the place he usually sat hoping I can picture him sitting there again. I want to see him again. I need to see him again. This time I won’t fight the memories, I’ll let them fill me with the joy I once had even if I have to face the emptiness that replaces it when the memories run out. I close my eyes and let the darkness flood my sight. For a moment I hear his voice whisper my name. I open my eyes and there he is, playing his guitar.

“Gina is that you,” he asks and looks over at me. Doesn’t he recognize me? He opens his mouth again and says, “Gina?” Except this time it’s not his voice it’s the voice of a woman. Why is it not his voice?

I feel slight pressure on my shoulder and I notice a slender hand resting on my skin. I look up to see Mrs. Jones holding an umbrella over both of us with a worried expression on her face. I look back to where Tyler was sitting, but once again he’s gone.

“Sweetheart come get out of the rain,” she says. Her eyes once resembled his, but now they’re glazed over with a coat of sorrow. He was rarely sad and even when he was it wasn’t deeply imbedded into his very being like it is in his mother’s. I start to get up slowly because I feel like something heavy is tethered to me and I have to lug it around everywhere I go.

“Oh look at you. How long have you been sitting out here?” She pulls up my sleeve which is exposing the tank top I’m wearing underneath my shirt. The wind must have been blowing harder than I thought. With one hand she pulls my wet hair back behind my ear and holds the umbrella with her other. We slowly walk away. I don’t feel like talking and luckily she doesn’t bother to ask me anything.

* * *

I did not realize how cold I was until I changed my clothes. Mrs. Jones offered to dry my clothes and asked me to stay until the rain stopped. She brought out some of her old clothes and let me wear them for the time being.

“Here have some tea. I still remember how you like it prepared.” She sets out a cup in front of me and adds only one spoonful of sugar. I only stare at it and watch as the steam swirls out of the cup and into the air then disappears.

“I remember the day Tyler first spoke about you. Tell me, how did you two meet?” She sits across from me smiling then brings her cup up to her mouth and takes a sip. She doesn’t seem as sad as she was earlier today like her sorrow has been lessened or did I just look right past her and gaze into my own reflection? My eyes are coated with sorrow not her’s . . . ? I look up at her once again and she continues to smile at me. There is only a slight hint of sadness in her eyes.

“Kayla tells me you’re not talking to anyone but please I would love to know how it happened.”

“How are you doing it?” My voice starts off just barely above a whisper and ends in a normal tone.

“Doing what?”

“Moving on,” I say. This is the most I’ve said to anyone since the accident.

“Well I wouldn’t say I’m moving on exactly. Some days are just better than others but most aren’t. Today is one of the better days and by better I mean it hurts less. Most days I wake up and the pain stabs me before I can even get out of bed. I open my eyes and it feels like I just jumped into a tank of freezing cold water.” Her voice cracks and she pauses for a moment. She regains her composure and says, “Today my husband and I talked about his first day of kindergarten. Pretty soon Kayla joined us and we attempted to recall all the cherished memories we shared with him.”

“It helps lessen the pain even if it’s just for a day.” Mr. Jones jumps into the conversation. I hadn’t even noticed him enter the kitchen. He looks at me and smiles then takes a drink of his wife’s tea—a gesture that seems vaguely familiar. His smile resembles Tyler’s.

“Gina!” A voice yells and someone hugs me from behind. I recognize Kayla’s voice and she stands next to me resting her arm on my shoulder. She drinks out of my cup and says, “It’s good to see you off campus for the first time in months.” She has the same enthusiasm that once radiated from Tyler.

Mrs. Jones tells them where she found me and that she asked me to tell her about my first encounter with Tyler. Kayla laughs as she recalls and her parents wonder what happened to make it so funny.

I let the warmth of that memory guide me back to the day we met and it momentarily fills his void.