9 Years Ago
9 YEARS AGO
NIKOLAI
“I love you.” Jane says the words that turn my blood to ice while she looks at me hopefully, nervously.
The grass that was once cool beneath my back grows hot and sticky, making my skin itch. I stare at the stars so that I don’t have to look at her face because I don’t want her to see how terrified I am of what she just did.
She can’t love me.
Not when she’s going to move to Boston in a few months and I’m headed to LA.
Not when I’ve seen how two people that are supposed to love each other eventually devolve into screaming and fighting and then even worse into ignoring and indifference.
I don’t want her to love me. Because if she does, then I’m responsible for her heart.
And I don’t want that on my shoulders. Not right now. Not when I’m only eighteen and at the precipice of what could be our band's big break. The responsibility is suffocating.
“Don’t love me,” I whisper as I look at the stars and wish for one to come down and swallow me whole. Maybe it’ll burn me along the way.
I deserve it for what I’m about to do.
Jane, who was just lying in my arms like we were the only two people in the world, jerks up and stares at me. “What?”
That single word is filled impossibly full with shock and hurt and confusion.
I sit up too. “Don’t say that, Jane. Please.” It sounds like I’m begging and I might be. I didn’t want this to happen. At least not right now. I wanted to savor this last bit of time we had together until the final bits of sand fell in our hourglass. I knew our end was coming, but I didn’t want it yet.
Her eyes shine as she frowns, “No, I do, Nikolai?—”
“Jane, don’t.” My voice is harsher than I intend and I try to soften it. To soften the blow that I already delivered and can’t take back. “Don’t love me. We’re too young. I-I can’t. I can’t…” I trail off, running my fingers through my hair and pulling at the ends. The pain feels good at this moment and overrides the ripping sensation in my chest.
But this is the right decision, right?
If it is, why does it feel like this?
It was only supposed to be a friend helping a friend.
“You can’t love me?” Her voice cracks and I can’t even look at her. I stare down at the grass like a coward.
“I’m sorry.”
She chokes on my apology and rises to her feet. As she stands over me, I gather up the courage to look at her and I wish I didn’t. Because then I wouldn’t have to see the way she’s looking at me. Only minutes ago, she looked at me like I was her best friend, someone she trusted, and yes…someone she loved.
Now, she’s regarding me as if I’m a stranger and a cold, empty feeling expands in my chest.
Even right here, right now, I know this is going to be a moment in my life that I’m going to look back on and wonder if I made the right decision. It might haunt me and keep me up at night, forever present in the recess of my brain to pull out on a lonely night or a gloomy day.
But I can’t make myself say the words back to her.
I can’t.
Our lives aren’t going in the same direction and it will just make things worse.
I’m doing this for both of us.
It’s for the best.
Isn’t it?