Lost without You

I’m staring at the water.
I can’t take my eyes off of it. The way the waves move over the sand, like a lover, gentle and beautiful, calling for you.
Begging you to be a part of it.
And you are.
You’re part of the ocean.

Everyday starts the same now. I fight to get out of bed, my body pleading with me to not get up. My muscles perform an act of mutiny as fire sparks in my bones, taking over and hollowing me out even more. I ignore it and move across my room to slip on clothes.

My mom looks at me as though I’ve grown another head. Her eyes look so tired that I don't recognize them at first. They aren't the bright sky blue they used to be. Now they just look gray and sickly. She looks older, small wrinkles sprouting from her usually flawless skin, tiny v's marching across the side of her face. She's staring at me, checking me over.

My hair isn't washed and my nails are down to nubs, bitten to nothingness and nail polish flaking. My face is makeup-less and I’m slouched in one of the dining room chairs, baggy shorts hanging off my bony hips, your shirt wrapping me up, holding me together.

The shirt that still has your smell on it.

“That’s what you’re wearing?”

Her question doesn’t matter because she already knows the answer. And it's not as though she actually cares. That would take too much strength, strength neither of us have. So, I ignore her and get up, heading for the door.

My backpack seems to drag against the ground its so heavy. It weighs me down and slows my usually brisk walk to a slow stumble as I barely stay upright.

I avoid my usual route to school. There’s no need to see anyone before I have to.

I shudder when I hear my name shouted from somewhere behind me. Close behind, breaking the silence.

“Jenna!”

The excited voice stabs at me viciously, though unintentionally, ripping a jagged cut into my already unsteady mental stability. Despite the pain I keep walking.

She catches up to me quickly, my pace isn’t anything that requires her to even jog to. I scream mentally at my body, why can’t I move a little faster.

Traitor.

“Hey J, how you been?”

The question is so simple yet almost floors me. How have I been!? I want to scream at her for her insensitivity but I realize she doesn’t know.

Doesn’t know how it feels to loose you.
Doesn’t know how it feels to be lost.

I shrug. It’s not perfect but it’s an answer none the less.

“Well I’m glad you’re back.”

Her voice is filled with caution, the words spoken gently as to not cause anymore hurt.
My icy blue eyes must have scared her. Your eyes. The eyes of a dead boy. But like the good friend she is she walks with me, silent.

At least she knows how much words hurt. I almost feel bad for not wanting her there, next to me, caring. For not wanting her words and smiles and hugs that try to comfort. For not wanting anything.

Almost.

---

We get to school, barely, just as the bell rings. The walk seemed endless though I live less then ten minutes away. She mutters a quick goodbye and scurries to her class. I can feel her relief as she leaves the awkward that surrounds me in a three foot radius. I turn in the direction of my first class, reluctantly.

No one says anything as I come in late to math. The teacher throws me an understanding and sad smile and then they start. The whispers. The air is thick with anxiety and parts slowly for the words that seem to flood the space.

“…ya, Christians sister…”
“…must have been hard…”
“…didn’t cry at the funeral…”

That hurts more then anything. Not because it’s malicious, because it’s true. If only they knew how much I wanted to cry, to scream, to kick the earth, curse god and bargain with the devil.

But I couldn’t move.

And you couldn't come back.

I tune them out and stare at the board littered with numbers. Numbers so cold, so lifeless, I feel at home. And I wonder why I'm still here when my life ended the day you died.