Chapter 7 Kira #2
After Landon and I broke up, she was the first to volunteer to go find him and kill him. While she stood by me and fully supported me, I knew she was also left reeling from the incident. She, like me, never thought that Landon would tell me I deserved better, then move out of town the next week.
She’d never particularly liked any of the guys I’d dated since Landon, claiming they weren’t “good enough.” Not entirely inaccurate, but if I continually thought that every guy wasn’t good enough, I would probably be single forever.
“That’s not my decision to make, and I think you have the right to be angry at him forever. I know I’m still pissed at him. But he seems eager to support you and show you he’s changed.”
The tears on my cheeks dried as I mulled over her words. I wanted to forgive Landon as I didn’t want to hold onto negative feelings any longer. But I felt like there were a few more things I needed to address before I could make that step.
“This calls for ice cream and a nap.” Macey pulled me into the kitchen, giving my mind a much-deserved break. “No more boy talk unless it’s about Ben and Jerry.”
I woke a few hours later, still ridiculously full from the pint of ice cream I crushed. Pushing my comforter away, I forced my body to sit up. With a touch to my cheek, I realized I didn’t even take my tear-stained makeup off before taking a nap.
Ever since Landon came back, my routine had been off. I’d lost my rhythm, and it made me unsteady. Impulsive. I needed to get back to my beloved routine.
Starting with washing my face.
Once I showered and felt a little bit like a human again, I padded toward the kitchen, where two familiar voices were reviewing flashcards over dinner.
“Hey, guys.” I reached for the teapot I kept on the stove. I didn’t think there was any room left in my stomach for dinner.
“Park-y!” Noah, my roommate’s boyfriend, called from the small dining table. “How are you?”
Macey flashed her eyes at him, and his immediately drooped back to his notecards. Although he was a part-time social media influencer, he spent most of his time studying. He was only a few classes away from finishing his architecture degree.
Every time I saw him, he called me a new iteration of my last name. This one was better than Park-lona, so I let it slide.
“I’ll be better after tea,” I said, adding some leaves to a mug.
Macey pushed around the rice on her plate. “Feeling better?”
I nodded. “Ice cream and naps are the cure for anything.”
“Except a healthy dinner,” said Noah jokingly.
I glared at him. “Don’t you have class?”
“Ha-ha. No. But I do have a burning desire for a brownie, so we should get going soon, Scribbles.”
Macey checked the watch on her wrist. “I’ll never say no to that. Kira, do you want to join us for a trip to The Velvet Whisk?”
The kettle hissed softly on the stovetop, building toward a whistle, and I poured it into my mug. “No, thanks.”
“We’ll bring you back something,” Macey assured me.
As they finished their plates, I took a small sip of tea. My mother always said I was part dragon because I could withstand hot liquids and spicy food better than anyone. “You guys are the best.”
Macey and Noah weren’t doing anything noteworthy, just leaning toward each other, sharing space the way only couples seem to know how.
Noah traced lazy circles on the back of Macey’s hand with his thumb.
Her eyes crinkled when she smiled down at him, leaning in just enough so that their shoulders brushed.
To be clear, I wasn’t bitter. I was happy for Macey. She deserved someone like Noah. Someone steady, successful, and who challenged her.
But watching them, I couldn’t help the knot that formed in my chest, the aching sense of longing that crept in. It was so easy for them. Easy to touch. Easy to love.
Affection had never come easy to me. It was a small and fragile thing I was still growing after years of inner work and reflection.
Some people were so tactile, greeting each other with hugs and a kiss on the cheek.
Nudging shoulders when they were joking.
Meanwhile, it took me years before I stopped overthinking casual hugs and touches.
It had only ever been easy with Landon.
Fuck. Once I started thinking about him, I couldn’t stop. It was like he plagued my mind, taking over every string of emotion, too.
“We’ll see you later then.” Macey gave me a quick hug before they left, and she whispered. “A relaxing night in is what you need.”
I slammed the mug on the counter as soon as I heard the front door shut. Yes, a relaxing night in would be good.
Not as good as it ever felt being in Landon’s arms. Not as good as staying up all night with him, sharing a bed without even kissing, talking through the dark hours, like we used to do.
Not as good as feeling his hands all over me, his mouth on me.
Making love, our hearts connected as much as our bodies.
Stop it, Kira.
Landon was in the past, and I would be better off leaving him there.
Apparently, my mind could not convince my heart otherwise because five minutes later, I found myself in my bedroom, rummaging through my closet.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the chaotic remnants of a search I hadn’t meant to start.
One secret I kept well hidden? I wasn’t a clean person. I was simply very good at stuffing all my clutter into the closet.
Somewhere in here, tucked in the very back, was the box I was looking for. The one with years’ worth of memories I needed to face.
I pushed aside a stack of flimsy scarves I hadn’t used in years. Behind them, a pair of boots I’d worn exactly once before deciding they were too uncomfortable. I leaned deeper into the closet, fingertips brushing against something hard and rectangular.
I pulled the box into the light and flipped open the lid, only to find…books. A collection of books I intended to donate this past summer. I groaned, shoved it aside, and pulled my hair into a messy ponytail before diving back in.
Every layer I uncovered seemed to unearth a different phase of my life. A tangle of friendship bracelets from a pop concert. A cracked frame with a picture of me and my college friends on campus. A tattered journal I’d sworn I’d finish writing in someday.
Finally, my hand landed on something familiar—a box, small and cardboard, sealed shut with duct tape.
My breath caught as I lifted the lid.
Inside were memories of my relationship with Landon. A ticket stub from the concert he had surprised me with on my seventeenth birthday. A dried flower he’d plucked from the neighbor’s garden during one of our evening walks. A keychain from a Chicago gift shop.
We’d spent a weekend together in the city shortly before graduation. Playing tourist during the day and spending the night together for the first time at a hotel. It had been the first time we made love, and I remembered it all in detail.
It hurt more than I let on, but only because I didn’t want it to stop. How something could feel so painful and so good all at once, I’d never understand.
I remembered the tiniest details perfectly, from the taste of strawberry lemonade on his tongue to the things he said when he pushed inside me. He got me off with his fingers first. A good call because it was difficult to come from penetration alone. That, admittedly, was still true years later.
It wasn’t the orgasms I missed most about being with Landon. Blissful as they were, the moments after were what I cherished the most. Feeling joined together, so close you couldn’t tell where one of us started and the other ended. The way he wrapped an arm around my waist when we slept.
Nothing had felt the same since.
At the bottom of the box was the letter. The one that only contained two words.
I’m sorry.
-L
I’d tried so hard to forget that day. What started as an ordinary stroll through the park right after graduation ended with the devastating breakup.
Landon and I had planned for forever. I was going to college at The University of Illinois Chicago, and he was going to community college part time while he helped grow the diner. It would have meant we’d be apart during the week, but we would have spent weekends together.
But then, the fire happened and the diner was gone. Suddenly, so were all of Landon’s plans for the future. Instead of pivoting and finding a way to include me in his new future, he insisted that he was “holding me back” and that it would be better to break up.
I didn’t know how he could be holding me back when he held me better than anyone else ever had.
We were supposed to stay together forever, but at the first sign of a tough time, he ran away.
I blocked his number that night in between sobs, completely unsure how I would ever move on.
The next day, I found this letter on my pillow.
It wasn’t until I read it again that I realized my hands were shaking. What a romantic way to say goodbye. He didn’t even sign the note with his full name.
On an impulse, I did what I should have done all those years ago.
I ripped the note in half. Then into quarters and threw it in the trash.
I wouldn’t ever forget its contents, but I didn’t need the physical reminder of it anymore. I slammed the lid back on the box and shoved it back into the closet, along with everything else I’d removed as part of the search. That would be a problem for future Kira.
Today Kira?
It wasn’t just my routine I would be returning to. No, it was time for something different. To find the things that scared me and just do them.
Starting with moving on from the past.