Status: One shot/standalone
To Live and Let Go
1/1
“Rian,” Margaret says quietly, interlacing her fingers with his, “are you sure about this?”
“I suppose not,” he muses quietly, “If you’re scared, we can turn back.”
Margaret chews on her lip, shifting her weight between her feet slightly, her cinnamon brown hair swaying slightly with her, “Well, I want to be here for you.”
Rian brings his girlfriend’s hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly as they press forward. Rian promised this would be the last time he would ever do this. Margaret couldn’t understand how he could stomach coming here.
They walk past the blood-spattered sign and she shudders, a chill racing down her spine. The police hadn’t bothered to clean it, figures. Every Halloween, Rian had visited the place where his former girlfriend was murdered, alone. This year, the last year, he brought his current girlfriend with him. Admittedly, they were both nervous but for very different reasons. Rian knows he won’t be able to see her. Alex hadn’t, Jack hadn’t, Zack hadn’t, no one does. She won’t be any different. And how could Margaret react when her boyfriend tells her he still sees the ghost of his ex?
As they finally come through the clearing, Rian leads her over to a tree where they sit side by side underneath its blanket of leaves and shadows. The stars stare back down at them as Rian waits, for her.
“H-how do you know she’s going to come?” Margaret’s nervous voice whispers into the darkness.
“She always comes,” he replies, his voice just as soft as hers. They sit in silence for two minutes, the only noise coming from the crickets around them. Then, suddenly, Rian looks up and begins to speak to the person, and its voice, that only he can hear and see.
“Hi, Annemarie,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a brief moment.
“Who is this?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Rian says quietly, as if he’s worried he’ll offend his own imagination.
“Why is she here? Have you forgotten me? Are you moving on Rian? I thought you said forever! Why did you bring her here?”
Rian stands up, seemingly stroking the air, “Annemarie,” he says quietly, “I love her. I brought her here because I love her. I will never forget you, ever. I have your name inked into my skin. But, you’re not here, anymore. I miss you, I miss you so much but I can’t hold on anymore. It hurts too much to hold onto you.”
“It hurts to be dead, Rian!”
“When you died, you took a piece of me with you!” he yells, making Margaret jump but watch curiously. She can’t see what her boyfriend sees but she’d love to. Sometimes he goes off in this private world of his. She can see the wheels in his head turning, his thoughts swirling around her. Annemarie, as it says on the inside of his arm, is like a third person in their relationship. They can’t do certain things, go certain places, listen to certain songs, watch certain movies and TV shows.
Maybe this third person will finally be forced out of the relationship and Annemarie will be laid to rest, again.
“When you left, when they took your life, I was devastated. I felt so lost, so gone. I felt like I left with you—or that I should’ve. I alienated everyone, I didn’t want to do anything, I moped about. But then I met her, and she… Oh God, you’d love her. She was just a friend at first; that’s how everything starts, isn’t it? But she was there for me, she made sure I went to my therapy appointments, she didn’t laugh at me when I cried, she listened to me talk about you for hours. I don’t know when or where but I started to fall for her; for her grace, and her radiance; her charm and finesse; those beautiful, beautiful eyes of hers. I could go on for hours, and then I realize that I just said it. I just said I fell in love with her. I promised myself that I wouldn’t fall in love after you but… Well, look at her. Look at her, Annemarie. You won’t be able to find a single thing wrong with her. She makes me happy, just as you did.”
“Y-you’re supposed to be mine… I can feel you forgetting me, Rian. It hurts, it’s causing me actual pain.”
“I will never forget you,” he says, tears making stains on his slightly chapped cheeks, “You will always be close to my heart. Remember what I always used to say to you? ‘Cities, states, counties and countries are just words. You are always close to me, because you are always in my heart.’ I meant it then, and I mean it now. Just because you’re not here doesn’t mean I’m forgetting you.”
”O-Okay, Rian…”
“I love you,” he says, barely able to speak. Emotion grabs him and holds him in a deadlock, tugging at every heartstring, filling up every crack in the essence of who he was until he could take no more and he falls to his knees, sobbing.
“And I love you.”
“But, it’s time to let go,” Rian whispers once he’s gained composure, “It’s time to let go.”
“It’s time to let go.”
***
That night as Margaret lies in bed next to her boyfriend, she wonders what he saw earlier. Her mother has told her that the boy ‘needs help’ and she was right, he did; he needed Margaret’s help. How could she leave him when he needed her most? That’s what friends were for. No one expected them to fall in love, and certainly not Rian’s band members.
“Listen,” Alex had said, “he’s going through a rough time, and I know you’re young, we all are. If that’s not what you want to be dealing with right now, we will understand and Rian will understand but don’t drag this out longer than necessary.”
“What makes you think I’m going to ‘drag things out’ as you so delicately put it?” she asked with pursed lips.
“We’re just concerned,” Zack said quietly, “We don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“You know how badly he’s taking this, you’ve been with him every step of the way. I, well we, just don’t want you to catch the superhero syndrome girls are prone to catching,” Jack added.
“And what might this superhero syndrome be?” she questioned, leaning back in her chair, arms folded defiantly across her chest. She could not believe she had to sit there while they prosecuted her; as if she’s done anything but love the boy.
“Where you feel like you need to save him, and protect him,” Alex answered, eyeing her both curiously and nervously, “You don’t need to do that.”
“Has it ever occurred to any of you that I actually love him and want to be here for him?”
Well, that shut them up. In fact, it shut everyone up. Margaret is damn well determined to make this relationship work; she has never even considered leaving Rian as a plausible option. She’s here through thick and thin, no matter what. She looks over at her slumbering beau, running her fingertips down his arm affectionately.
“All mine,” she whispers, “All mine.”
The thoughts of her relationship, it’s tribulations, and the ghost of Rian’s dead girlfriend are all swirling through Margaret’s mind as slumber whisks her away to its faraway places. The dream that unfolds before her baffles her, simply because of how real it all is.
Her eyes lazily scan the room before falling on the now open window. Stepping through its frame is a girl. Tall, dark hair, stunning emerald green eyes, a smattering of freckles against olive skin and a long, lean build.
“You know,” the girl says, “Rian sure knows how to pick ‘em,” she laughs light-heartedly, “The beautiful ones, I mean. You’re beautiful, you do know that, right?”
“A-Annemarie?” Margaret’s voice stammers as she’s rubbing at her face. Surely the sleep in her eyes is what’s causing her to see the girl standing before her.
“That’s me,” the girl replies, her pink lips spreading apart into a smile.
“How c-can I see you?”
The green-eyed girl shrugs, “It’s your dream, kiddo.”
“A-are you here for a reason?”
“I’m not too sure, again, it’s your dream.”
Margaret feels the corners of her lips being pressed down by a confused frown but the girl’s soft laughter stops her motion.
“I’m kidding,” she says with a wink, “mostly. While it is your dream, I am here for a reason.”
The girl walks over to the bed and takes a seat, her small, thin body barely making an indent on the sheets, “I need you to promise me something.”
“Y-yes?”
“Don’t let him remember me.”
“What?”
“Fill him with so much joy, and so much happiness for all of his days that I remain just a distant heartache that only hurts if he thinks about it for too long, or on days when it’s far too cloudy out for happy thoughts. But don’t let me be on the forefront of his mind anymore.”
“But, Annemarie—”
“It’s time to let go.”
When Margaret sits up in bed, it is still nighttime. Goosebumps rise on her arms and she rubs them a few times before she actually notices where the chill came from. She looks to her right and sees the curtains swaying slightly in the breeze coming from the open window.
***
“It’s harder to let go of the intangible things you hold on to,” the frizzy haired woman explains to Margaret, “He’s going to need time, and he’s going to need you to understand that.”
“We’ve been together for five years now. The other day, he called me Annemarie when we got into a fight. I thought these things got easier over time.”
“The stages of grief are not like points on a checklist, or a tattoo, for example,” the woman says, staring down at the swirling pattern adorning Margaret’s left forearm, “They are not a set thing; getting through a stage of grief isn’t a permanent. There’s really no simple way for me to explain it. Just because he’s gotten past the phase of being depressed, doesn’t mean he can’t revert back to it at any point in time.”
“I completely understand that,” she pauses, taking a moment to collect herself, “It’s gotten so bad, I feel like I’m grieving her too; I feel like I’m grieving a girl I’ve never met. I surely don’t want him to fake happiness on my behalf, but... When we visited where she was murdered, four years ago, he said it was the last time. He said he was doing better. And I know what you said about the checklist and all, but—”
A shrill noise interrupts their conversation and they share a gaze.
“I don’t have any other appointments for the day, would you like to continue?”
“No, I think I’m okay now,” Margaret lies smoothly. On one hand, she could probably spend another hour or three here, just getting it all out; on the other hand, there are things that need to be done at home that simply cannot get done with her here in the sickeningly sweet blue and pink room, blubbering about her feelings. The two barely acquainted women part ways, silently knowing that more could’ve been said.
When she pulls up to the home she shares with her boyfriend, she can hear crashing and yelling from the inside. She barely closes and locks the car before running inside to find the source of the commotion.
“Rian?” she calls out, her eyes scanning the foyer to assess the damage. She hears his voice thundering through the room, echoing through the halls and sending daggers straight through her ears.
“She won’t leave! She won’t fucking leave!”
“Rian?” she calls again as she rounds the corner slowly, almost terrified of the man she’s been with for three years. Once she sees him, she immediately wishes she hadn’t. His cheeks and skin are an angry red, his eyes are enflamed and his hands are balled up tightly into fists. He looks nothing like the man she fell in love with; her eyes are set on a stranger.
“Ri, baby, just calm down,” she murmurs soothingly, wondering if she should dare attempt crossing the room to console him.
“You don’t understand. I see her everywhere; I see her at the shows, side stage; I see her in corners of rooms; or sitting on a window ledge, smiling back at me like she used to. I thought this got easier over the years but it’s only getting harder.”
Taking note of the glass from all the smashed photo frames, she walks over to him and places a tender hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off and storms out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Orange tinted sunlight streams in from the window, casting dark shadows in the room. As Margaret stoops down to pick up some of the not so broken frames, she sees one of them holds the picture of her and Rian from their first anniversary, spent in New York. The frame is cracked in several places, but the most definitive crack is down the middle, between the two lovers.
***
“You’re not doing too well,” a soft voice whispers into the dark room.
“Says the one who caused all this.”
“I wish more than anything I could fix this, but I can’t. Only you can, Margaret.”
“I don’t think I can, Annemarie,” Margaret replies quietly, “I… I don’t think I can.”
“Why not?”
“He’s different… I look at him, and I don’t know who I see anymore.”
“He couldn’t have changed overnight, Margaret!”
“Well, obviously not but look at him! Really look at him! He’s different. He’s not the same! I look in his eyes and I see nothing; anything he’s claiming to feel isn’t there—no anger, no sadness, no depression, no love, no nothing. He’s absolutely stoic. That’s not who I fell in love with.”
She jerks upright at the sound of her phone ringing, loud and clear at 2:33 am.
“Hello?” she breathes into the receiver.
“Hello, is this Margaret—”
“This is she, who’s calling?” she interrupts, every fiber of her being suddenly struck with worry.
Where in the hell is Rian?
“Is a Mr. Robert Dawson your boyfriend?”
“Yes, is everything alright?”
“Well, not exactly. I’m Dr. Grey from the emergency room at Bayside; Robert has been in a car accident, and—”
“I’ll be right there.”
The drive to the hospital is done mostly by rote memory; Margaret’s mind is clouded by worry and anticipation—prepare for the worst, but hope for the best, she reminds herself. She inhales slowly and deeply, counting in increments of five each time, desperately trying to slow her erratic heartbeat. When she’s unsuccessful, she decides the best plan of action is to just get out of the car. Once she’s gone through all the agonizing security procedures, including walking through a metal detector, she has the okay to see Rian. The hallway walls pass in a blur of white as she races to his room, anxious to see him.
“Rian, is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“He’s not exactly fine,” a voice says, interrupting their conversation, “I’m Dr. Grey, we spoke on the phone?”
Margaret simply nods, looking towards the doctor as she continues, “He has a minor concussion but can be released to your care if you so please.”
Another numb nod.
And right now, at the worst of times, realization strikes.
Awkward silences and stolen glances are the only things exchanged between the estranged couple on their drive back home. When they come to a stop in their driveway, Rian scrambles out of the car, desperately trying to escape the deafening silence. Margaret, however, stands plainly on the pavement, staring up at the structure before her. It’s absent of the warmth and tranquility it once held when she moved in. She doesn’t belong here anymore.
She walks inside slowly, dreading every decided footstep. When you’re at war with yourself, it’s hard to tell who’s winning and who’s losing; though when she realizes she’s come to a stop in the living room where Rian is comfortably seated, the winner has been decided.
“Rian, I’m leaving,” she says slowly.
“Where are you going?” he asks nonchalantly.
“Rian, I’m leaving,” she repeats, hoping he’ll catch on.
“What do you mean you’re leaving?” his voice has an unfamiliar bite, an unfamiliar edge that makes her decision that much more plain.
“Things aren’t the same between us anymore, Ri,” she whispers sadly, “So, I need to do this; if there’s any hope of saving us, w-we have to get out now.”
“Margaret, that isn’t true.”
“Yes it is, Rian! Will you open your eyes for one fucking second? Just look around, nothing is the same anymore; we can barely talk without fighting; I can’t do this anymore.”
“Maggie, please.”
“Do you remember the last Halloween we celebrated?” she asks quietly, but doesn’t wait for a response, “The last time we went …there? That night, Annemarie came to me in a dream, or maybe it wasn't a dream. I don't know. The point is, I saw her and I couldn’t even believe she was there. She made me promise to push her from the forefront of your mind.”
“And how exactly is you leaving me going to equal you keeping that promise?”
“Trust me on this, Rian; it’s what needs to be done. It’s not a goodbye forever, it’s just a goodbye for now.”
The wheels in her head are turning faster than she can fathom as she turns on her heel to walk away. She knows now that she would never be able to stay with Rian and keep that promise. She’s enabling him to hold onto Annemarie and all the pain the came with losing her; the only way to truly help the man who’s quite possibly the love of her life is to show him how to let him go. The tears that fall from her eyes blur her vision and make black streaks on her face as she sits down in the driver’s seat of her car. Numb, shaking hands reach for her phone and she searches through her contacts until she finds the name she’s looking for.
“Hello?”
“Alex. I need to talk to you; don’t interrupt.”
“Al-alright,” he stammers, obviously taken aback.
“I n-need you to make sure Rian’s okay.”
“Why? Margaret, tell me you’re not leaving him.”
“Alex, the only way he’s going to realize he has to let her go is if he’s forced to see it. All this time I’ve been letting him lie to me, and everyone, saying he’s been getting better and that it’s been getting easier. You haven’t seen him lately? He’s not himself, and he just… He needs this; we need this. I have no doubt in my mind that we’re going to end up together but I’m holding him back right now.”
“H-how are you so sure?”
“Because I just am, 'Lex. Trust me.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice your happiness to do this?”
“How can I expect him to know when to let go when I, myself, don’t? I need to let him go, let him figure this out on his own and then… Then we can be together again. If you love something set it free, right? If it—”
“—comes back, it’s always yours; if it doesn’t then it never was,” he lets out a long sigh, and she pictures him running his hands through his hair, “You know that after this is all over, I’m gonna make him propose to you, right? God, Margaret, you’re so strong. I’d never be able to do something so selfless.”
She lets out a soft chuckle and they exchange a few more words before hanging up the phone. The words she’d heard just a few hours earlier are suddenly completely applicable to her current state of mind.
It’s harder to let go of the intangible things you hold on to.
“I suppose not,” he muses quietly, “If you’re scared, we can turn back.”
Margaret chews on her lip, shifting her weight between her feet slightly, her cinnamon brown hair swaying slightly with her, “Well, I want to be here for you.”
Rian brings his girlfriend’s hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly as they press forward. Rian promised this would be the last time he would ever do this. Margaret couldn’t understand how he could stomach coming here.
They walk past the blood-spattered sign and she shudders, a chill racing down her spine. The police hadn’t bothered to clean it, figures. Every Halloween, Rian had visited the place where his former girlfriend was murdered, alone. This year, the last year, he brought his current girlfriend with him. Admittedly, they were both nervous but for very different reasons. Rian knows he won’t be able to see her. Alex hadn’t, Jack hadn’t, Zack hadn’t, no one does. She won’t be any different. And how could Margaret react when her boyfriend tells her he still sees the ghost of his ex?
As they finally come through the clearing, Rian leads her over to a tree where they sit side by side underneath its blanket of leaves and shadows. The stars stare back down at them as Rian waits, for her.
“H-how do you know she’s going to come?” Margaret’s nervous voice whispers into the darkness.
“She always comes,” he replies, his voice just as soft as hers. They sit in silence for two minutes, the only noise coming from the crickets around them. Then, suddenly, Rian looks up and begins to speak to the person, and its voice, that only he can hear and see.
“Hi, Annemarie,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a brief moment.
“Who is this?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Rian says quietly, as if he’s worried he’ll offend his own imagination.
“Why is she here? Have you forgotten me? Are you moving on Rian? I thought you said forever! Why did you bring her here?”
Rian stands up, seemingly stroking the air, “Annemarie,” he says quietly, “I love her. I brought her here because I love her. I will never forget you, ever. I have your name inked into my skin. But, you’re not here, anymore. I miss you, I miss you so much but I can’t hold on anymore. It hurts too much to hold onto you.”
“It hurts to be dead, Rian!”
“When you died, you took a piece of me with you!” he yells, making Margaret jump but watch curiously. She can’t see what her boyfriend sees but she’d love to. Sometimes he goes off in this private world of his. She can see the wheels in his head turning, his thoughts swirling around her. Annemarie, as it says on the inside of his arm, is like a third person in their relationship. They can’t do certain things, go certain places, listen to certain songs, watch certain movies and TV shows.
Maybe this third person will finally be forced out of the relationship and Annemarie will be laid to rest, again.
“When you left, when they took your life, I was devastated. I felt so lost, so gone. I felt like I left with you—or that I should’ve. I alienated everyone, I didn’t want to do anything, I moped about. But then I met her, and she… Oh God, you’d love her. She was just a friend at first; that’s how everything starts, isn’t it? But she was there for me, she made sure I went to my therapy appointments, she didn’t laugh at me when I cried, she listened to me talk about you for hours. I don’t know when or where but I started to fall for her; for her grace, and her radiance; her charm and finesse; those beautiful, beautiful eyes of hers. I could go on for hours, and then I realize that I just said it. I just said I fell in love with her. I promised myself that I wouldn’t fall in love after you but… Well, look at her. Look at her, Annemarie. You won’t be able to find a single thing wrong with her. She makes me happy, just as you did.”
“Y-you’re supposed to be mine… I can feel you forgetting me, Rian. It hurts, it’s causing me actual pain.”
“I will never forget you,” he says, tears making stains on his slightly chapped cheeks, “You will always be close to my heart. Remember what I always used to say to you? ‘Cities, states, counties and countries are just words. You are always close to me, because you are always in my heart.’ I meant it then, and I mean it now. Just because you’re not here doesn’t mean I’m forgetting you.”
”O-Okay, Rian…”
“I love you,” he says, barely able to speak. Emotion grabs him and holds him in a deadlock, tugging at every heartstring, filling up every crack in the essence of who he was until he could take no more and he falls to his knees, sobbing.
“And I love you.”
“But, it’s time to let go,” Rian whispers once he’s gained composure, “It’s time to let go.”
“It’s time to let go.”
***
That night as Margaret lies in bed next to her boyfriend, she wonders what he saw earlier. Her mother has told her that the boy ‘needs help’ and she was right, he did; he needed Margaret’s help. How could she leave him when he needed her most? That’s what friends were for. No one expected them to fall in love, and certainly not Rian’s band members.
“Listen,” Alex had said, “he’s going through a rough time, and I know you’re young, we all are. If that’s not what you want to be dealing with right now, we will understand and Rian will understand but don’t drag this out longer than necessary.”
“What makes you think I’m going to ‘drag things out’ as you so delicately put it?” she asked with pursed lips.
“We’re just concerned,” Zack said quietly, “We don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“You know how badly he’s taking this, you’ve been with him every step of the way. I, well we, just don’t want you to catch the superhero syndrome girls are prone to catching,” Jack added.
“And what might this superhero syndrome be?” she questioned, leaning back in her chair, arms folded defiantly across her chest. She could not believe she had to sit there while they prosecuted her; as if she’s done anything but love the boy.
“Where you feel like you need to save him, and protect him,” Alex answered, eyeing her both curiously and nervously, “You don’t need to do that.”
“Has it ever occurred to any of you that I actually love him and want to be here for him?”
Well, that shut them up. In fact, it shut everyone up. Margaret is damn well determined to make this relationship work; she has never even considered leaving Rian as a plausible option. She’s here through thick and thin, no matter what. She looks over at her slumbering beau, running her fingertips down his arm affectionately.
“All mine,” she whispers, “All mine.”
The thoughts of her relationship, it’s tribulations, and the ghost of Rian’s dead girlfriend are all swirling through Margaret’s mind as slumber whisks her away to its faraway places. The dream that unfolds before her baffles her, simply because of how real it all is.
Her eyes lazily scan the room before falling on the now open window. Stepping through its frame is a girl. Tall, dark hair, stunning emerald green eyes, a smattering of freckles against olive skin and a long, lean build.
“You know,” the girl says, “Rian sure knows how to pick ‘em,” she laughs light-heartedly, “The beautiful ones, I mean. You’re beautiful, you do know that, right?”
“A-Annemarie?” Margaret’s voice stammers as she’s rubbing at her face. Surely the sleep in her eyes is what’s causing her to see the girl standing before her.
“That’s me,” the girl replies, her pink lips spreading apart into a smile.
“How c-can I see you?”
The green-eyed girl shrugs, “It’s your dream, kiddo.”
“A-are you here for a reason?”
“I’m not too sure, again, it’s your dream.”
Margaret feels the corners of her lips being pressed down by a confused frown but the girl’s soft laughter stops her motion.
“I’m kidding,” she says with a wink, “mostly. While it is your dream, I am here for a reason.”
The girl walks over to the bed and takes a seat, her small, thin body barely making an indent on the sheets, “I need you to promise me something.”
“Y-yes?”
“Don’t let him remember me.”
“What?”
“Fill him with so much joy, and so much happiness for all of his days that I remain just a distant heartache that only hurts if he thinks about it for too long, or on days when it’s far too cloudy out for happy thoughts. But don’t let me be on the forefront of his mind anymore.”
“But, Annemarie—”
“It’s time to let go.”
When Margaret sits up in bed, it is still nighttime. Goosebumps rise on her arms and she rubs them a few times before she actually notices where the chill came from. She looks to her right and sees the curtains swaying slightly in the breeze coming from the open window.
***
“It’s harder to let go of the intangible things you hold on to,” the frizzy haired woman explains to Margaret, “He’s going to need time, and he’s going to need you to understand that.”
“We’ve been together for five years now. The other day, he called me Annemarie when we got into a fight. I thought these things got easier over time.”
“The stages of grief are not like points on a checklist, or a tattoo, for example,” the woman says, staring down at the swirling pattern adorning Margaret’s left forearm, “They are not a set thing; getting through a stage of grief isn’t a permanent. There’s really no simple way for me to explain it. Just because he’s gotten past the phase of being depressed, doesn’t mean he can’t revert back to it at any point in time.”
“I completely understand that,” she pauses, taking a moment to collect herself, “It’s gotten so bad, I feel like I’m grieving her too; I feel like I’m grieving a girl I’ve never met. I surely don’t want him to fake happiness on my behalf, but... When we visited where she was murdered, four years ago, he said it was the last time. He said he was doing better. And I know what you said about the checklist and all, but—”
A shrill noise interrupts their conversation and they share a gaze.
“I don’t have any other appointments for the day, would you like to continue?”
“No, I think I’m okay now,” Margaret lies smoothly. On one hand, she could probably spend another hour or three here, just getting it all out; on the other hand, there are things that need to be done at home that simply cannot get done with her here in the sickeningly sweet blue and pink room, blubbering about her feelings. The two barely acquainted women part ways, silently knowing that more could’ve been said.
When she pulls up to the home she shares with her boyfriend, she can hear crashing and yelling from the inside. She barely closes and locks the car before running inside to find the source of the commotion.
“Rian?” she calls out, her eyes scanning the foyer to assess the damage. She hears his voice thundering through the room, echoing through the halls and sending daggers straight through her ears.
“She won’t leave! She won’t fucking leave!”
“Rian?” she calls again as she rounds the corner slowly, almost terrified of the man she’s been with for three years. Once she sees him, she immediately wishes she hadn’t. His cheeks and skin are an angry red, his eyes are enflamed and his hands are balled up tightly into fists. He looks nothing like the man she fell in love with; her eyes are set on a stranger.
“Ri, baby, just calm down,” she murmurs soothingly, wondering if she should dare attempt crossing the room to console him.
“You don’t understand. I see her everywhere; I see her at the shows, side stage; I see her in corners of rooms; or sitting on a window ledge, smiling back at me like she used to. I thought this got easier over the years but it’s only getting harder.”
Taking note of the glass from all the smashed photo frames, she walks over to him and places a tender hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off and storms out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Orange tinted sunlight streams in from the window, casting dark shadows in the room. As Margaret stoops down to pick up some of the not so broken frames, she sees one of them holds the picture of her and Rian from their first anniversary, spent in New York. The frame is cracked in several places, but the most definitive crack is down the middle, between the two lovers.
***
“You’re not doing too well,” a soft voice whispers into the dark room.
“Says the one who caused all this.”
“I wish more than anything I could fix this, but I can’t. Only you can, Margaret.”
“I don’t think I can, Annemarie,” Margaret replies quietly, “I… I don’t think I can.”
“Why not?”
“He’s different… I look at him, and I don’t know who I see anymore.”
“He couldn’t have changed overnight, Margaret!”
“Well, obviously not but look at him! Really look at him! He’s different. He’s not the same! I look in his eyes and I see nothing; anything he’s claiming to feel isn’t there—no anger, no sadness, no depression, no love, no nothing. He’s absolutely stoic. That’s not who I fell in love with.”
She jerks upright at the sound of her phone ringing, loud and clear at 2:33 am.
“Hello?” she breathes into the receiver.
“Hello, is this Margaret—”
“This is she, who’s calling?” she interrupts, every fiber of her being suddenly struck with worry.
Where in the hell is Rian?
“Is a Mr. Robert Dawson your boyfriend?”
“Yes, is everything alright?”
“Well, not exactly. I’m Dr. Grey from the emergency room at Bayside; Robert has been in a car accident, and—”
“I’ll be right there.”
The drive to the hospital is done mostly by rote memory; Margaret’s mind is clouded by worry and anticipation—prepare for the worst, but hope for the best, she reminds herself. She inhales slowly and deeply, counting in increments of five each time, desperately trying to slow her erratic heartbeat. When she’s unsuccessful, she decides the best plan of action is to just get out of the car. Once she’s gone through all the agonizing security procedures, including walking through a metal detector, she has the okay to see Rian. The hallway walls pass in a blur of white as she races to his room, anxious to see him.
“Rian, is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“He’s not exactly fine,” a voice says, interrupting their conversation, “I’m Dr. Grey, we spoke on the phone?”
Margaret simply nods, looking towards the doctor as she continues, “He has a minor concussion but can be released to your care if you so please.”
Another numb nod.
And right now, at the worst of times, realization strikes.
Awkward silences and stolen glances are the only things exchanged between the estranged couple on their drive back home. When they come to a stop in their driveway, Rian scrambles out of the car, desperately trying to escape the deafening silence. Margaret, however, stands plainly on the pavement, staring up at the structure before her. It’s absent of the warmth and tranquility it once held when she moved in. She doesn’t belong here anymore.
She walks inside slowly, dreading every decided footstep. When you’re at war with yourself, it’s hard to tell who’s winning and who’s losing; though when she realizes she’s come to a stop in the living room where Rian is comfortably seated, the winner has been decided.
“Rian, I’m leaving,” she says slowly.
“Where are you going?” he asks nonchalantly.
“Rian, I’m leaving,” she repeats, hoping he’ll catch on.
“What do you mean you’re leaving?” his voice has an unfamiliar bite, an unfamiliar edge that makes her decision that much more plain.
“Things aren’t the same between us anymore, Ri,” she whispers sadly, “So, I need to do this; if there’s any hope of saving us, w-we have to get out now.”
“Margaret, that isn’t true.”
“Yes it is, Rian! Will you open your eyes for one fucking second? Just look around, nothing is the same anymore; we can barely talk without fighting; I can’t do this anymore.”
“Maggie, please.”
“Do you remember the last Halloween we celebrated?” she asks quietly, but doesn’t wait for a response, “The last time we went …there? That night, Annemarie came to me in a dream, or maybe it wasn't a dream. I don't know. The point is, I saw her and I couldn’t even believe she was there. She made me promise to push her from the forefront of your mind.”
“And how exactly is you leaving me going to equal you keeping that promise?”
“Trust me on this, Rian; it’s what needs to be done. It’s not a goodbye forever, it’s just a goodbye for now.”
The wheels in her head are turning faster than she can fathom as she turns on her heel to walk away. She knows now that she would never be able to stay with Rian and keep that promise. She’s enabling him to hold onto Annemarie and all the pain the came with losing her; the only way to truly help the man who’s quite possibly the love of her life is to show him how to let him go. The tears that fall from her eyes blur her vision and make black streaks on her face as she sits down in the driver’s seat of her car. Numb, shaking hands reach for her phone and she searches through her contacts until she finds the name she’s looking for.
“Hello?”
“Alex. I need to talk to you; don’t interrupt.”
“Al-alright,” he stammers, obviously taken aback.
“I n-need you to make sure Rian’s okay.”
“Why? Margaret, tell me you’re not leaving him.”
“Alex, the only way he’s going to realize he has to let her go is if he’s forced to see it. All this time I’ve been letting him lie to me, and everyone, saying he’s been getting better and that it’s been getting easier. You haven’t seen him lately? He’s not himself, and he just… He needs this; we need this. I have no doubt in my mind that we’re going to end up together but I’m holding him back right now.”
“H-how are you so sure?”
“Because I just am, 'Lex. Trust me.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice your happiness to do this?”
“How can I expect him to know when to let go when I, myself, don’t? I need to let him go, let him figure this out on his own and then… Then we can be together again. If you love something set it free, right? If it—”
“—comes back, it’s always yours; if it doesn’t then it never was,” he lets out a long sigh, and she pictures him running his hands through his hair, “You know that after this is all over, I’m gonna make him propose to you, right? God, Margaret, you’re so strong. I’d never be able to do something so selfless.”
She lets out a soft chuckle and they exchange a few more words before hanging up the phone. The words she’d heard just a few hours earlier are suddenly completely applicable to her current state of mind.
It’s harder to let go of the intangible things you hold on to.