Chapter 18 #2
“We were never going to be sisters.” I sighed, tears wanting to well up in my eyes.
“Parker doesn’t care for me like that. I don’t know what his game is.
I don’t know why he acts jealous and pretends like he cares but then never does anything.
I don’t know and I don’t care anymore. My heart can’t take it anymore.
I’ve lost a piece of myself, Mila. I can’t explain it, but a piece of my soul has died.
A piece of me is forever gone and the more I hope, the more I love, the more I wait, the more I feel myself fading into oblivion, not caring, not dreaming, not wondering, not living. ”
“You should talk to Parker. Call him back and see what he has to say.”
“And tell him what?” I sighed. “It’s not his problem.
You can’t blame someone for not loving you.
I don’t need to have another conversation with him.
I’m sure he feels bad. I’m sure he wishes that he could love me.
I know he cares about me. I know he wants me in his life, but I want more than sex.
I want more than a good friend. I want a man who would die for me.
I want a man who feels my pain. I want a man who can feel my heart.
I want a man who loves me so much that he can’t go a day without seeing or talking to me.
I want a man who adores me so much that he thinks the sun rises and sets with me.
I want a man who thinks about me first thing in the morning and last thing at night.
I want a man who would take my last breath for me.
I don’t want a man who makes me feel like I can’t breathe.
I feel like I’m the walking dead, Mila. I feel like I can’t even go on another day like this. ”
“I wish I could slap him,” Mila mumbled, and I could hear tears falling from her eyes.
“Why are you crying?” I asked her softly, feeling myself wanting to cry as well.
“Because you’re in so much pain and I can feel it.
” She sobbed and I could hear the tears running faster now.
“I don’t want to lose you, Lara. And I don’t want you to lose yourself, either.
I feel like my brother has changed you, torn you down, and now you’re trembling like a flower in a brisk wind. ”
“Oh, Mila.” I grabbed my phone tightly. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to be strong now, Lara.” Mila’s voice became strong. “You can cry. You can cry and sob and hug me tight any day of the week. I’m here for you. I love you. You’re my best friend. You’re my soulmate. I will always be here for you.”
“Oh, Mila.” I started crying. “I wish you were here right now. You don’t even know how I feel right now.
” My tears started falling like raindrops in a thunderstorm, heavy and dark, and I could feel my nose running as well.
I could hear Mila crying, and then I started crying even harder.
It was like I could finally let it all out.
All the pain and hurt and confusion. All the dreams and hopes.
I was letting them all go. And perhaps that was the hardest thing of all.
It had been easier when there was hope that things would change. It had hurt, but I had always imagined there was a beckoning light at the end of the tunnel.
But now . . . now there was nothing. Giving up all hope and letting go of Parker was the end.
It was the end of every childish dream I’d ever had about the two of us.
It was the end of my one-true-love fantasy.
It was the end of my lifelong quest to end up with my soulmate.
Parker and I were never going to be. We were never going to get married and sing songs to our children.
He was never going to wake me up in the morning gazing adoringly in my eyes and whispering he loved me.
We were never going to grow old together and tell each other stories.
We were never going to anything. There was never going to be a “we.” That killed me.
Knowing that made me die a million deaths, but inside I could also feel a little flower blooming.
A flower that was ready to bloom under another sun.
A flower that was ready for some happiness and no more pain.
A flower that was ready for the dawn of a new day.
“Why won’t you talk to me, Lara?” Parker stood on my doorstep, and I felt like I wanted to pass out. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re not answering my calls. My emails. I sent you some messages on Facebook. I texted you.” His eyes searched mine. “You haven’t responded to anything.”
“What do you care?” I said bitterly. “It’s not like you always respond. I just didn’t get around to it yet.”
“You always respond,” he said, his face unsure and red. “You don’t ignore me.”
“What do you want, Parker?” I stood at the door, just waiting for him to leave. I didn’t want to talk to him. Just seeing him was breaking my heart. I didn’t want to deal with this.
“Can I come in?”
“Why?” I took a deep breath. “I just don’t have much time right now.”
“I thought we were friends,” he said softly.
“Yeah, we are.” I nodded.
“Once, you called me your best friend,” he said with a small smile. “Remember?”
“We all say things we don’t mean.” I shrugged.
“You’re one of my best friends,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say.
What did it even matter anymore? What did anything matter?
I felt too numb inside. Too heartbroken.
Too empty. I hate you was all I could think as I stared at him.
I hate you for making me feel this way. I hate you for making me have so much self-doubt.
I hate you for me not being able to let go.
I hate you for not letting go of me when you knew you didn’t love me. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
“So how have you been?” he asked me, his face somber as we stood there in awkward silence.
“Good, you?” I gave him a half-hearted smile, not wanting him to know how uncomfortable I felt inside. Not wanting him to know he had made me lose a part of myself and that I’d been awful while trying to pretend, even to myself, that I was doing well.
“Not great,” he said, his face looking sad. “But better now that I’m getting to see you.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “So what did you want to talk about?”
“Everything.” He shrugged. “I just want to feel better about this situation.”
“I’m not here to make you feel better about yourself, Parker. I’m sorry, but I’ve done that too much already. The only times you’ve really come to me haven’t been about me. They’ve been because you were feeling down-and-out, and you needed me to make you feel better about yourself.”
“That’s not true.” He looked at me with a hurt expression. “I care a lot about you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know that. You care oh so much about me.” I rolled my eyes. “I get it, Parker. Look, I know we’re friends, but I also know that I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” His voice rose. “Do we have to get into an argument already? I really hoped we could just talk everything out.”
“Sure, let’s talk it out,” I said with a sigh. What really was there left to talk about?
“What should we talk about?” he asked, looking at me with an alert expression that made me want to scream and shout.
“Parker, you called me. You wanted to meet up with me, so if you want to talk, you need to start the conversation.” I was not going to make this easy for him. I was over it. Really and truly over it.
“I’m trying to. Can you stop being so difficult, please?”
“I’m not being difficult.” I groaned, not sure if I was going to be able to do this with him.
“Okay,” he said simply as he pursed his lips. “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” I said, not able to stop a small smile from crossing my face. He looked back at me and smiled back as well. I felt my heart skipping a beat as we both smiled at each other. For a second everything was all right in the world again.
“I miss you,” he started again and gave me another small smile.
“I miss talking to you. I miss getting your texts. I miss you telling me off for not texting. I miss you dreaming of me. I miss you telling me about your dreams. I miss you wanting to hang out. I miss your random messages. I miss you being there in small ways.”
“I annoyed you,” I said, not wanting to think anything positive. Not wanting to believe that he really missed me in any way important.
“That’s what I said. How I acted.” He sighed, his eyes bleak. “I know that. I know I hurt you. I know I made you think I didn’t care. I know I haven’t been the friend you needed. I’m so sorry for so many things.”
“It’s fine. I forgive you.”
“Please, can I come in?” He pursed his lips. “Can we have this conversation in your living room as opposed to at your front door?”
“Fine.” I sighed then, and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” He stepped into the doorway and paused as I closed the door. “You look really pretty today.”
“Thanks,” I said, not looking at him. I didn’t want to look into his eyes. I didn’t want to see his handsome face. I didn’t want my heart to skip the beats it always did when he was around. I didn’t want to be so affected by him every damn time I saw him.
“So have you missed me?” he asked softly, and I could feel him stepping closer to me. I froze as I felt his fingers on my chin, lifting my face to stare at him, his eyes hopeful.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I mumbled, a piece of me dying inside.
And another part of me feeling the heat of fire and hope that had never fully extinguished.
That I knew now would never be extinguished, no matter how much I willed it away.
He was always going to come back. He was always going to keep kindling it.
And this feeling—this love—it was never going to leave me.
I was doomed to love him forever. I just needed to learn how to live with it and not let it ruin my life.