Everything's An Illusion

This is where we’d lie on Saturday afternoons, our fingers intertwined, our eyelids closed, and our heads in the clouds. We’d lie for hours at the top of this small hill, rain or shine, and just enjoy the silence that would consume us. It was such a comfortable silence. We wouldn’t talk about the looming problems that we should have, but that’s what these days were for. To forget. To forget everything around us and, for a while, just be happy. I guess you can only forget for a certain amount of time, though.

Now this place is where I come to think. To remember. To remember those Saturdays long gone, and to wish, every day, for those times to return. This is the place I come when I need to clear my head of other frustrations. This is the place I come when I need something to remind me to relax, to breathe deeply, and to not let stress get the best of me. Sometimes I lie in your place, just to see if I can feel your presence. Sometimes, I convince myself that I do. I feel a brief warmth, or a brisk breeze, something that lets me know you’re there with me. I don’t cry here, though. I can’t. I can’t bring myself to.

This is where our first kiss happened. In this old park across town. It was kind of an accident, in a way. It was late, and hot, and the fourth of July. You’d been having a rough time at home, and you were lower than I’d ever seen you. I tried jokes, those usually worked, but nothing fazed you. I was worried. So damn worried. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just took your face in my hands and planted a long, meaningful kiss on your full lips. You didn’t pull away. When I did, you just smiled that wide smile of yours, the one I’d been missing. The one I’d unwittingly fallen in love with. Fireworks exploded above us in a cliché scene, but I couldn’t have been happier.

Now I can barely stand to walk past this place. My heart is wrenched with unbearable agony, and images from our late night summer escapades fill my mind. I see the swings and think of you, your head hung low and your voice quivering as you told me about another argument with your parents. I think of pulling you up from it and wrapping your shaking frame in my arms until you calmed down. I see the twisting slide, and think of us lying there, our bodies shaping to the plastic, and trying not to nod off as we told stupid stories and pretended home didn’t exist. I see the jungle gym, and laugh a solemn laugh. I think of us daring each other to hang upside down longer than the other. I think of the time we kissed while both hanging upside down, resulting in us almost breaking our necks when things got heated and we fell. I missed those days.

This place is where I first told you I loved you. This cliché little coffee shop on the corner. It was the middle of winter, during our senior year of high school. I don’t know if our relationship was official or anything, but in my mind, it was. You were mine, and I was yours, and that’s how things were. You didn’t seem to oppose it, so that just made things all the better. It was fucking freezing outside, like in the teens, and we wanted to kill time before going home for winter break. We walked four blocks from school to this place, laughing and complaining about the weather and life in general the entire time. We ordered hot chocolate and pastries and found a booth in the corner, sitting as close as possible to try and warm up. Silence consumed us as we sipped our drinks, and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. It just slipped out, barely above a whisper. But you heard it. I saw those brown eyes of yours grow wide, and then the biggest smile I’d ever seen cross your lips. You crashed those perfect lips to mine for a good, solid minute, before breathlessly returning the words. So I lied before. Now, I couldn’t be happier.

Now I avoid that small shop at all costs. I’ll go out of my way, add an hour onto travels just so I don’t have to pass by it. I can’t handle it. The memories we made there in the latter part of our last year as high school students are the best memories I have. They’re the memories that I hang onto, the only really good memories from school I have. Really, the only memories I have. Everything else is simply a blur, because nothing else mattered to me then. As long as I had you, everything was perfect. Nothing could break us. Nothing could tear us apart. Nothing could bring us down. From that night, that moment in the coffee shop, I knew everything would be okay. I knew things would get better. I knew we’d both eventually be happy, as long as we were together. That’s all we needed, and I was positive of it. It may sound crazy, a seventeen year old so positive about his future, but I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. We were going to be happy if it killed us.

This is where you told me. You told me you were sick. Like, really sick. We were sitting in the car on some back road, both illuminated by the full moon above us. Your voice was shaking, and you couldn’t look at me. How the fuck had I not noticed?! You hid it so fucking well. No one had any idea, besides your family, and me. You told me your parents couldn’t pay for the treatments you needed, but that you didn’t particularly care. Your head was leaned back, your eyes were glassy and your lips barely moved as you explained everything to me. I couldn’t keep the tears back. Your words stung. How the fuck could you leave me so willingly?! You let me cry. You let me scream. You apologized under your breath and soothingly rubbed the back of my hand with your thumb. You told me you loved me. You promised we’d spend every second possible together. And we did.

I can’t drive down that stretch of road. I can’t look at a full moon. I hate to even think about that night. It’s one of the memories that’ll have me wracked with sobs in less than thirty seconds. It’s one of the last times you ever looked healthy to me. After that, I could see it. I could see the decline. You got thin. Well, thinner than you’d been before. Your hair thinned. Your face fell. Your glow was gone, but you were still fucking perfect in my eyes. You got weak. So fucking weak. You could barely walk at times, and it made me want to bawl my eyes out. But I couldn’t, not in front of you. I had to be strong. I had to try and stay positive when we were together, for you. It was hard, but I knew it was harder for you. You were the strongest person I’ve ever met.

…This is my least favorite place. The place I said goodbye to you for good. A summer day had never felt so fucking cold. There was no wind, but the rain fell like a fucking waterfall. The mourners moved mechanically, your family’s faces shadowed by guilt and sorrow. Our friends gathered, embracing each other for strength that they wouldn’t be able to get. And then me, standing alone and to the side, staring intently at the wooden casket that housed my heart. I let tears slide silently down my face as you were lowered into the cold earth, and it took everything in me not to launch my body into the ground with you. How the fuck was I supposed to be able to go on. We were supposed to help each other. To be there. Things were supposed to be good. But I guess things change. At least your pain was gone. And I just knew you’d watch over me. You promised me you would.

Three years to the day. Three years to the day, I find myself standing in front of this place that brings me so much pain. I run my hand over the cold, hard stone. I talk to you, and half expect an answer. Sometimes, I feel like you’re there with me, though. I feel you. The looming feeling. The pressure in my chest. The wind. I hear your voice in the wind sometimes. I can hear you sing, and I know it’s just for me. I run my icy eyes over the letters engraved into the granite stone marking your resting place, and feel tears prick the corners. You were too young. Too young to be ripped from me. From the world. From life.

I sit with you for hours. I talk aloud, and hope you hear me. No, I know you hear me. I just know it. I feel you with me every day. I know you keep me safe. You watch over me. You’re my guardian angel, and I guess that’s all I can ask of you for now. Until I see you again. And I will see you again, I promise you that. It’s only a matter of time.

Sleep well, Victor Vincent Fuentes. I can’t wait until we meet again.