Dear Heart, You Screwed Me: Chapter 2

PRESENT DAY

The sun streamed through the windows, the beams feeling good on my tanned skin. I loved the spring months, more so because it’s my birthday month. Not that I have celebrated the last two, I just haven’t been able too. I couldn’t do it without Elijah. We always had our ritual. Presents, breakfast, macaroons, champagne, take away, the notebook and chocolate.

Every year.

But now, on my twenty-seventh birthday I am sitting here without him. Will this pain ever become bearable? Because honestly, I think I am broken for life. I haven’t dated since; my mum has urged me so many times just to go for a coffee date here or there, but I am just not ready.

I wiped my brow with the back of my hand as I looked around my empty apartment. My mum stood behind me, hands on her hips slightly breathless.

“This is it,” she sighed.

“It is…” I sighed with her, sadness consuming me. My eyes scanned the white walls, of our studio apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was ours. We bought it after saving, always said we would keep it to rent out as a little injection of funds when we were ready to move into a bigger home and start a family.

I felt my throat bob as I tried to swallow down the large lump that was growing and swelling in my windpipe.

“You ready for your next adventure?” my mum’s arm wrapped round my shoulders, squeezing me tight. My dad appearing to my other side.

“I think so…” I snorted a laugh, truth was, I was terrified.

“Don’t think!” my mum let out a small laugh, “It’s going to be everything and more, as much as me and your father don’t want you to go…” her voice trails off as she looks at my father. His tanned, glowing skin radiates. My dad is Venezuelan, but he has always lived in England. He speaks basic Spanish, but always made sure when he was growing up that he answered his parents in his native language.

“No, we don’t mi amor.” My dad’s voice was low as he pulled me into his embrace, squeezing me tightly.

“I’ll only be a few thousand miles away,” I choked back the tears. “I need this new start, for me…”

“We know,” they say in unison.

I step away from them, as my eyes volley between theirs.

My dad’s black hair sits away from his face, his green eyes glistening with unshed tears. My mum is fair with blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes.

I have my mum’s hair colour of honey blonde and my eyes are a mix of the two, giving them an opal sea colour. I am lucky that I got his skin tone and not my mum’s pasty colour.

“We’re so proud of you.” My mum’s voice is tight as she swallows down the lump in her throat. “But you know you can always come home; your room will be here.” My father nodded.

“I know,” I whispered, “but I won’t be home, only when I have a holiday.” I nibble my trembling bottom lip. “You can always come to me? Once I am settled and in my new apartment, I will send you the details.” I say cheerily, rushing towards my parents and wrapping both my arms round their necks, their arms linking behind my back as we stood embraced.

I was leaving for New York to be an assistant at Lordes PR. I gave them a quick internet search once I got a call from my head-hunter. I wanted to make sure I was well informed about the company I was going to. I would be working under an Adele Cliffe.

By the sounds of it, not many of her assistants last more than three months. Seemed a bit of a running joke. But I was determined to pass the three-month mark, I had to. I never really knew what I wanted to do, but after Elijah died I threw myself into anything and everything to keep my mind busy because as soon as I stopped, he filled my mind. I found myself working for a part-time PR firm, I started as a temp but once I found my feet I couldn’t stop wanting to strive and make myself better. With each existing client helped and each new client signed, I had finally found my calling.

“Right honey, we’ve got to go.” My mum broke my thoughts suddenly, her hand running down my back before it linked through my arm.

I nodded.

My dad walked out of my boxy apartment first, then my mum. I inhaled deeply, the hot tears pricking my eyes as I stayed anchored to the floor for a moment. Breathing in through my nose, trying everything to not forget the smell of our home. I swiped the angry tears away as they rolled down my cheeks. I was angry that he was taken from me, super fucking angry that I didn’t get to say goodbye, and angry that we were robbed of our future. My future.

Lifting my shoulders up, I stood tall as I swallowed the large lump down.

“Goodbye Elijah,” I whispered through choked sobs. I dipped my head down and walked towards the door, closing it behind me and not looking back.

That part of my life was over.

I had to move on.

Even if deep down, I didn’t want to.

I had no choice.

Stepping away on trembling legs, I screwed my face up and cried.

My trembling fingers wrapped round the handle of my large suitcase as I walked it into Heathrow Airport. I was moving to New York for a year on a temporary work visa, if Lordes PR were happy with me and my work, my visa would be extended and then I could look at moving to New York permanently. I had no clue about America, I had never travelled outside of the UK, I hadn’t even been to Scotland.

Boring, yes. But I was comfortable. Happy.

I still hadn’t made my mind up if I would like to live in New York or return home to Ongar. I had to say a quick goodbye to my parents, I didn’t want to linger any longer than I had too because if I held them, I wouldn’t want to let them go.

You’ve got this. I muttered to myself.

Pushing through the crowds I stopped in front of the departure board, desk twelve. I nodded, swallowing hard as I headed towards the check in.

Sitting on the plane, I was upgraded to first class. Apparently, my new boss called forward to have me moved. I wasn’t complaining but I felt so out of place. Letting out a shallow sigh, the air hostess appeared, smiling softly and handed me a glass of champagne. I smiled back at her, my trembling fingers wrapping round the stem before bringing it to my lips as she walked away to the next booth.

“Cheers to me,” I muttered, holding it up and knocking it back.

Waking from my nap, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. It took me a moment to realise where I was. Sitting up, I looked round, but nothing had changed. Shuffling forward in my seat I looked out the window, a little smile creeping on my face as I stared into the fluffy clouds. I always thought heaven sat on top of the clouds, but that wasn’t true. I didn’t even know if heaven even existed. My heart clenched in my chest, constricted, and twisting as pain crashed through me. When Elijah passed, I begged every night while I cried myself to sleep for him to show me that he was still here. Just to give me a sign, to give me anything.

I would have been happy with the smallest thing.

The memories shatter me, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I honestly didn’t know how many more tears I had left to cry.

Elijah never came. He never gave me a sign. He never gave me anything.

That’s when I stopped believing in something more. In any hope of another realm. There was nothing but darkness, sadness and emptiness.

Nothing more.

The words that I begged into the darkness when Elijah died, echo round in my head on a loop. Show me you’re still here. Send me something to make me feel again. To make me remember what it was like to love you.

I swipe a lone tear away that runs down my cheek. I sniffle, leaning down and grab my battered, old diary.

I started this diary after Elijah died. My therapist thought it was a good idea for me to jot anything and everything down as it came to me. Fumbling around in my bag I grabbed a pen, turned the pages and started writing.

My eyes fluttered closed for a moment before a tear fell from my lashes and splashed on the page, making the pen that I had just marked the pages with run.

And I sob. Quiet, choking, heart-breaking sobs before my eyes fall back to the clouds.

“Where are you?” I whisper.