I try to deny that all of this is because it’s over.
Because I’ve had closure now and because I’ll never see him again.
Because it’s crazy.
That I’m sad about that. That I’m sad about never seeing him when I didn’t want to see him in the first place. When it upset me so much that I saw him at the bar and that he was back in my life.
When I asked for him to promise me.
I asked him for closure. I told him that I wanted this to end, that I wanted to forget him.
But somehow, despite everything, this closure thing has become the most painful experience of my life.
Even more painful than a broken heart.
So much so that it’s hard to even get out of bed and go to classes. It’s hard to muster up the energy to sneak out to Ballad of the Bards when Friday comes.
My friends think I’m acting strange but I deny it to them too.
Besides, my friends have their own problems.
Especially my one friend.
Salem Salinger, and her problem has a name: Arrow Carlisle, our new soccer coach.
Yes, we have soccer here at St. Mary’s.
It’s more or less a team-building exercise that every student has to participate in. We get a choice to pick from a couple of sports. We play those sports as a team and learn how to live in a society.
Anyway.
With his dirty blond hair and blue eyes, that guy is a sun god. All the girls at St. Mary’s are crazy for him and his good looks. He started at the school right around the time Salem did and it’s been pretty apparent that she’s crushing really hard on our new coach.
She hasn’t said anything about it to anyone but I can tell; I have boy problems too, after all.
I’m not interested in soccer at all but even I know who Arrow Carlisle is.
According to my brothers, he’s one of the best pro soccer players in the country, the star of the L.A. Galaxy team. He was the reason why Galaxy won the championship trophy last year and they were on track to win again this year.
Until Arrow got injured and was told to sit out a few games as a precaution.
He’s here to recuperate, and meanwhile, he’s coaching our sort of lame soccer team as a favor to his mom.
Who also happens to be the principal of this reform school and Salem’s guardian who sent her here in the first place.
As I said, problems.
Salem has a lot of them.
And so instead of worrying my friends, I decide to go out with Wyn when the weekend arrives. Just to prove to them and to myself that things are okay.
That closure is a good thing and I got exactly what I wanted.
Freedom from him.
Only it backfires when I see him at Buttery Blossoms.
With a girl.
To be fair, that girl — Teresa — works there and I know her. She’s pretty easy-going and fun. And hence super popular with the patrons. And from the looks of it, she’s super popular with him too.
Because he seems very engrossed in what she’s saying.
Which is probably why he can’t see me.
Again, to be fair, I’m not inside the shop yet. I’m across the street from it and I was about to cross when I saw him, his dark head and his white hoodie.
That shines when the rays of the sun fall on him.
I’m never going to see that hoodie again, am I? I’m never going to touch it or feel it. I’m never going to touch his hair, smell his scent.
I’m never going to taste him or feel him.
Or dance for him.
No one’s ever going to watch me dance like he does, like I really am a perfect ballerina.
No one’s ever going to call me Fae…
Despite explaining this to myself for the thousandth time, a great wave of sadness grips me. It grips my heart and my body starts trembling. I tell Wyn that I can’t walk. I tell her that I need to get out of here.
To her credit, she doesn’t ask. She simply goes with me.
God, I love her and I hate that I’m making her skip out on her favorite brunch place. But I can’t. I can’t go when he’s in there. With a girl.
When he’s moved on.
This is him moving on, isn’t it?
So it worked then, what we did. What I made him do. All my lies and misdirection worked and he’s done with me. He’s fucked me out of his system and as I’ve been saying, it’s a good thing.
I just don’t know why I feel so angry.
Why I want to go in there and punch him in the face. Why I want to cry and sob and curl into a ball.
So for the next couple of weeks, I try my hardest to get rid of this anger, this pain, this sadness. I try to distract myself and stay busy.
Busy, busy, busy.
With classes, with homework, with school activities, with gardening and counseling sessions. Days are easier to pass because there’s always something to do and I have my girls.
But nights are harder.
I have a solution for that as well though. Wyn’s stories.
When I can’t sleep, I ask Wyn to tell me stories. Especially that one story that I love.
It’s about a man she met one night.
The one she calls her dream man.
We don’t know who he is. All we know is that a year ago when Wyn came here for the first time, that summer, she met a man. She says he was older than us, like in his late twenties or something. And somehow, crazily enough, that man became the reason why she came here to St. Mary’s.
She hasn’t shared this with anyone else except me; she’s too shy, but I love hearing about this mystery man and making up theories about him.
With moonlight streaming through the barred windows and lying on my side on the bed to face her, I ask her one night, “Tell me about his eyes.”
In the same position from her bed, she bites her lip and says in her soft voice, “Um, okay. So his eyes are blue. Like yours. But I think a little darker. Like navy, maybe.”
“And his hair?”
“Dark from what I could see. It was night, way past my curfew. But sometimes I think there might be some light strands in there, I don’t know. Maybe dirty blond.”
“Like Coach Carlisle’s?” I ask, referring to Salem’s crush.
Wyn sighs. “Oh yeah, that would be awesome.” She puts her hands under her cheek and continues, “And well, he came out of nowhere. Like one second I was alone and the next, he was there. I was sitting on the sidewalk, crying because I’d had a fight with my dad and suddenly there was this huge man and his shadow covering me. And I got really scared but then he talked.”
I grin. “And what did he say?”
She smiles as well. “He asked me if I was okay and I told him that I was. And I thought that he would leave after that, anyone would have, but he didn’t. He stayed and I still can’t believe he stayed. And he didn’t even try anything with me, you know? He just sat on the other side of the road, opposite to me, and told me that he had a sister my age and that if I wanted to, I could talk to him. And I did. I told him about my dad and how he was forcing me to go to law school instead of art school and all that, you know? And then he said something.”