December 9 #4
A piercing gasp broke the silence, the sound of a person taking in air after being held under water for a solid two minutes.
A tear rolled down her cheek and then another.
She didn’t wipe them away, just let that pain flow from her body.
The fact that she was showing her feelings openly broke him and he wanted to beg her to say something nasty back, beg her to transfer some of that pain to him because he deserved it.
But she just stood there, staring at him as every shred of hope shattered in her Jasmin eyes.
“Okay, Kevin,” she whispered. “Okay.”
He watched her walk back to the car, grinding his teeth so hard it felt like they were going to break off.
He waited for her to drive away before he picked up his bags and headed to the edge of the road, spitting out blood every second step.
He sat down on the ground and pressed both palms against his face, losing himself in his thoughts.
Dan: Stick a fork in it. It’s done! And the Asshole of the Year Award goes to…(dramatic announcement voice) Keviiiiiiiiiiin Shepard.
Bob: (Applauding) The determination of this young man! Kevin, come up here and collect your prize.
Dan: You know, for a moment we thought you were out of the game.
You guys were doing all that cutesy stuff, I didn’t know if you were ready to withdraw from the competition.
And when she met her mother, we thought you were gonna be the runner up for sure.
But you always manage to surprise us. What a spectacular performance! Tell us why you did it.
Kevin: (Gives a small smile) Well, Dan, as you can see (waves the award), I’m an asshole. I wanted to ruin the only good thing in my life…and I wanted to ruin it irreversibly.
Dan: Self-destructive much?
Kevin: Yeah. All the time. It’s not even a hobby.
It’s a way of life. But this wasn’t about me.
Don’t forget, Dan. I destroyed the lives of three people…
and their families…and I wasn’t about to do the same to her.
Jasmin has a great future ahead of her. She’s gonna make something of herself.
She’s gonna be rich and successful and she doesn’t need the destruction, that is me (points to self), fucking it up for her.
Picturing a future with her is just plain sadistic, seeing as though I have absolutely nothing to offer.
I’m poison. I begged her leave, but she…
she wouldn’t give up on me. If I didn’t do it the way I did, she would have held onto this toxic relationship.
She’s a genius…already head of a research department, she’s won prizes, she’s even been on TV.
She’s got medals coming out of her ears and what do I have?
The Asshole of the Year Award. And while that’s a fantastic fucking accolade, I just thought she deserved more.
Bob: So now that it’s all over, how do you feel?
Kevin: Well, I feel like shit, Bob. I feel like I just drank battery acid and I’m disintegrating from within. That shit’s just burning up every-fucking-thing inside me.
Bob: I don’t get it.
Kevin: You wouldn’t. Because you’re a dick!
But let me elaborate on the insurmountable pain slashing through me.
You know that feeling, Bob? When you feel like there’s a thousand pounds crushing on your sternum.
When your heart is so heavy…it doesn’t even have the strength to beat anymore, like it’s about ready to drop straight out of your chest (slowly breaking down).
You know that feeling when there’s like…
a million needles stabbing every inch of you and it’s happening so fast there’s a searing sting under your skin.
That only happens when every single cell in your body has received word of the utter devastation you have caused.
That’s how I feel right now, Bob (barely holding back the tears).
I am hurting…on a cellular level. It’s a feeling of losing a best friend…
Twice…In one year. And knowing both times were my fault (completely losing composure).
I just crushed the woman I’m in love with, ripped her heart out and then stomped on it.
And every time I think of the hurt…in her Jasmin eyes…
the hurt I caused, it’s like another kick to the fucking stomach.
But other than that, I’m doing just great! Thanks so much for asking.
Dan: And thank you for sharing, Kevin. Join us again next year, folks. The producers have told us to rename this to the Kevin Shepard Award because this guy has just set a new standard. Thank you! And goodnight.
Kevin: It’s been an epic show. But now if you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna wait for a truck to run me over.
There was a limit to how much torture the human heart could take.
He’d reached that limit hours ago. When he’d taken the picture of Ariel holding Perry’s chain, he’d already felt like he couldn’t take anymore.
But it just kept adding up. Just like with anything else in life, if more and more things are added onto an already strained object, it snaps, it breaks.
He had reached his limit. He couldn’t break anymore.
He slowly wiped the tears from his face and reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
As if it was some type of coping mechanism his mind had conjured up, he stopped thinking about Jasmin.
And now it was time to gather the jagged pieces of himself and find a way back home.
He still had a bit of money left, but it wasn’t enough to get back to Montana.
When he’d decided to take this trip, he hadn’t wanted to get his family involved.
The money he’d had would have probably been enough to get him to Florida and back if the trip had lasted a few days like he’d planned.
But then he’d met a girl he couldn’t get away from and ended up spending over a month on the road. He was broke in more ways than one.
It was two in the afternoon which meant that it should be late morning in Seattle. He scrolled through his phone until he found his sister’s number.
He generally didn’t call or check in and she sounded wary when she answered. “Hey, Bink.”
“Jo-jo…” His voice trembled and he tried to pull himself together. She still heard it, though.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need your help.”
For reasons unbeknown to him, he’d been blessed with people who loved him so much that they did what he asked without question. Her response was immediate. “Anything. What do you need?”
He inhaled several breaths, trying to keep his voice steady when he spoke again. “I need you to get me back home.”
“Okay. Tell me where you are.”
He spent the next few minutes giving her his location. After he hung up, he received a string of texts. A cab was going to pick him up and take him to the airport and she’d even booked him a flight back home.
He didn’t know how long it took before the cab arrived.
He was too preoccupied with tormenting himself to notice the time.
He sent her text when he arrived at the airport to tell her that he was safe and on his way home.
That was his last coherent thought, because afterwards he switched onto autopilot.
Thirty-five days on the road and he was a bigger mess now than before he left Montana.