The Writer’s Corner features poetry, essays, short stories, satire and various fiction and non-fiction from SCAD Atlanta students. To submit your own work for the Writer’s Corner, email features@scadconnector.com.
When I See You Again by Leila Scott
I will not win this battle between the earth and the rising sun. Every day will pass even when I’m not ready for it and, my love, I was not ready for it.
That box you gave me before this all happened, I still have it. I Contemplated burying it with you, but I wasn’t ready to let go. It’s been shoved under my bed, only to collect dust but at least I know it’s there. It’s filled with the memories I relocated to the back of my brain and when the numbness becomes too familiar I bring it out again.
That leaf I picked before the first snowfall last winter. Fallen from its branch, grazing the tip of my toes, it felt like it was meant to be. You said, “orange and red, just as vibrant as our love.” That day we spent trying to keep it from crumbling. You balanced it between your pointer and thumb all day. Scrunched your nose, concentrated on its texture and fragility. I could see what was important to you, but as time went on you lost interest. You let it crumble in our box and bear the weight of all the other souvenirs. When I found it, only small fragments were still attached to its vein, the rest missing. I am still searching for those pieces, but I know I will not get them back.
The following spring, after the snow melted we watched flowers bloom from the balcony of my parents’ home in Austin. We spent a week away from our troubles and responsibilities. My own personal vacation from Kate. Sometimes I hold that roundtrip ticket in my hand wishing I had made it a one way. However, your habits would die with you, and I know you would have found a way to replace Kate, to replace me.
You met Kate years before you met me, she was apart of your life and “I was just going to have to deal with it,” you’d say, “we are just friends; don’t you get that.” I didn’t get it because I still remember the way your eyes would trace every curve of her body. I remember the smile you’d have to tuck away when she left the room. I don’t remember ever seeing guilt in your eyes, and part of me wonders if you hoped I would notice these things. Hopeful I would pick up on ways to be more like her, but I am who I am not like the girl you wanted me to be. She wasn’t just your friend, and I shouldn’t have been a fool. I knew you could hurt me, Rae, just not that you would.
That shell that cut your toe last July, on our summer trip to Florida. Your freckles danced in the sun, cheeks flushed red and that dimple on your cheek formed with your crooked smile. I remember that smile, I used to think it belonged to me. We spent our day’s radiating happiness, leaving hearts in the sand, waiting for the waves to wash them away. The sun left burns, you left scars, and I’m still trying to make up for it all. But I am not that strong, Rae, and you cannot help me now.
I found out how she tasted when the leaves began to fall again. Your lips revealed hints of coffee I did not make for you and smoke from the cigarettes I did not light for you. I knew it was her, Kate, but I didn’t want to be right. I wanted to un-see the messages that you were never fast enough to hide.
November 14, a day I’ll never stop loathing It was your birthday, and her wishful call led you to travel to the next room. Door shut, grin on. You thought I couldn’t hear your giggles, but I realized what happiness sounded like that day. I want to celebrate you, remain in the bliss of ignorance, and remember you for the love I wanted to believe was real. Why did you keep me around Rae? Was your ego so big that it couldn’t be fulfilled by one aching heart?
I found that birthday card I made for you, stuffed with receipts from too many trips to that Thai restaurant wedged between the street we had our first kiss and the boulevard we had our first fight on. It read:
“Dear Rae,
Counting my lucky stars that you are in my life today and every day.
I hope I can change your world the way you have changed mine.
To this year and many more.
Sincerely,
Yours”
I was given the clues to know it was time to walk away even if I loved you, but I couldn’t stop Rae. That’s the difference between me and you; I loved you and only you.
I should have known when your words started to leave a bitter taste in my mouth around December. I started having conversations with myself as blue message bubbles filled my screen. I knew not to believe you were with your friends. I knew it was Kate.
I should have known when your grip on my arm wasn’t a signal to interlock our fingers, but an innuendo that you were the one in charge. I’ll admit I saw the signs. I should have run, but I wanted to believe I had a chance at your love.
I should have known when your words spelled it out loud and proud for me to know that, if I teased you again I was going to regret it. I wanted to call your bluff and say you just had a bad day. However, those days turned into weeks and soon I could not hide the marks you used to leave.
We were too naïve to see what our “love” would do to me. Your past dammed you to be that guy. The one who made every girl realize what it was like to fall for the boy who never stayed. Each one would choke at a taste of the pain that came from falling for you, but I could swallow what everyone else couldn’t. But you still didn’t pick me Rae.
You never changed no matter how hard I tried. I try to blame your parents for making you this way. I even tell myself that maybe what you did wasn’t that bad. I’m still making excuses for someone who isn’t here.
Your mother never reprimanded you. You were the spitting image of the man that made her fear what you would do if she punished you. She raised you on empty promises and bottles of Bacardi so that she could make it through the nights your father didn’t come home. A weak minded romantic who taught you to never get tied down because it wasn’t worth the holdback. She knew what you did to me, and that it marked me deeper than bruises you left on the surface.
Your father, a man on the run from bounced checks that should have helped with child support. He left evidence of his mistakes on your soul and I could tell by the way you always needed control when I needed you to be gentle. I can blame him for not loving your mother the way he should have and leaving you with an impression that love was forced. He was a sick man and the examples he set for you did not help me. I can blame him for hurting you the way you hurt me. He shouldn’t have touched you the way he did, but I could say the same thing to you.
I could blame you for not learning from their mistakes. I should have, would have, could have done a lot of things. I knew they were hard on you and that they never showed mercy. I’m sorry they weren’t better, but you hurt me Rae, and I can’t apologize for that.
I remember the last time I saw you. Two days before the accident, you were on my porch after you had too much to drink again. You never could control your Bacardi like your mom, Rae. It was a screaming match that lasted until half past twelve. I walked away with a twisted arm after I tried to shove you away when you started spitting in my face. Broken words and too many slurs I still don’t want to hear. A box you surrendered because for that night you had enough of me. You always came back for more, Rae. But not this time.
You said you were on your way before you decided to go save her, Kate. You said, “I want to talk about the other night, can I come over?” I always gave you a shot to redeem yourself even if I heard the same excuse every time. Once I realized you missed your estimated time of arrival by an hour I got worried. The last text you sent read, “I’m on my way to yours, doesn’t look like much traffic. Can’t wait to see you.” I called more times than my phone could log but there was no answer. I still let it ring just so I can hear your stupid voice say, “Hey you’ve reached Rae! Obviously, I’m not here right now but leave a message after the…” I hate that beep. It reminds me of how I’ll never hear you pick up again. We used to spend hours on the phone mostly arguing about what now seems like nothing. I wish you hadn’t turned around that night Rae. I wish you would have come to me, where you were supposed to be.
Your mother called me two hours later, letting me know you weren’t coming back. It was an instant death, a head on collision, and there was no possible way you could have made it. Part of me wishes you had because maybe then you would understand the pain I felt. The pain I still feel. The death certificate read, “Rae Warner Johnson died at 9:52 p.m. in Bridgeport, Connecticut, on the 2nd of January. Cause of death: texting and driving.”.
Your mother let me keep your phone for the memories. Eventually I found the exact moment you left us. Kate sent a series of messages that distracted you from the road. The hysterical messages she sent read:
“Please come, I need you. No one else is here for me. I’m always listening to you nag about Addison. This is the least you could do for me.”
“If you really need me I will turn around,” you replied.
“Really?”
“You would do that for me? Tell her you’re with your friends.”
“Are you far? Where are you? Text me when you’re here!”
There was an unsent message that said, “Stop texting me I’m…”
You swerved into an incoming lane of traffic, hitting a Sedan. The mother and baby are okay, but you are in another place. I know you had already decided to head to her place because they found you on 9th and Collier, two miles that headed east from me. That’s where I lost you for the last time.
I sealed envelopes, stuffed with cards that read “In Loving Memory of Rae Warner Johnson.” I didn’t want to send one to her, to Kate. After contemplating, I decided it was the right thing to do, but I still hoped guilt would take cause for her absence. Did she blame herself like I blamed myself? Did she lay awake at night thinking about you? Did she love you like I did?
It was eight days later when we said our final goodbye. Your world was separated from mine by an abyss. The casket created a barrier between us because no one could bear to see what the accident had done to you. It was almost too much for your mother to handle when they asked her to identify your body. Your skull cracked since the airbags in your 1960 Chevy stopped working before you bought it from that vintage car salesman. I never understood why you wanted it, but you felt a sense of accomplishment once all the tips you saved from your day job at Mandy’s helped you buy it. Shards of glass that used to belong to your window pierced your skin, leaving cuts that would never heal. A leg amputated because the front of your car concaved and they couldn’t get you out otherwise.
Your mother, intoxicated before she arrived to the church. Stumbled in with an empty bottle of whiskey in her right hand. The one she saved for special occasions. There was no one there to watch over her anymore. There were tissues in her left hand and a pasty look on her face. I was introduced as your significant other by a pastor you never believed in. I gave the speech your mother begged me to come up with, as Kate sat where I couldn’t avoid her. She was puffy eyed and weak. I considered inviting her up there with me. It didn’t feel right claiming this role as my own. I stood in front of a crowd of mourners preaching about how loyal, loving and perfect you were. Was I deceiving them? Was this the right thing to do? I don’t know, but I did it for you, Rae.
As I spoke through your eulogy, Kate’s eyes filled with remorse. Clinging onto what little composure she had, she was gone before I could finish. I helped your mother wobble to the cemetery after the service. We buried you in a garden a street down from the avenue I first met you on. The beginning and the end too close for comfort. I wish I could have left you there, left our memories there. But these memories still haunt me.
These days, weeks, months without you don’t get any easier. I wait for the day I can wake up without you. You seem to be everywhere, but I can’t find you. I still search for you in everyone I meet, hoping I can find closure. They have better hearts than yours, but they are not you.
Six feet underground and I’m still waiting for an apology, for answers. Sometimes I search for them, hoping you put them in this box, but you didn’t leave those for me. All I have are these things. These things I wish you had never brought me. These things that left me with a heart I didn’t break and consequences of decisions I didn’t make. I can’t find what I need in this box, Rae, because I need you. I need closure even if it comes from your pretty lies. I need your highs and lows. I need you to pick up the phone. But I know I want what I can’t have. So, I’ll remember you by the mistakes you made, Rae. Resenting you, piecing together what if’s and waiting for the day I see you again.
