“Get out!” he roars, his eyes wide and crazed, his chest heaving. “It’s over! What don’t you understand? Go! Get out!”
I grab my bag, phone, and pants and then rush to the door, pressing my head there as I fight back my tears. Before I go, I look at him. “I love you, Tyler. I forgive you, and no matter what, I’ll be here when you need me. Please don’t blame yourself, blame me if you have to,” I whisper, knowing this isn’t about us.
Or even him.
This is Justin. I guess he got his wish after all.
Us, apart.
Tyler
I watch her go, my heart in tatters. I took the already cracked, broken organ and slammed it into the floor. My angel is crying, upset, and hurt. She thinks I don’t love her, she thinks I blame her. I saw it in her eyes.
I don’t.
I blame myself. I ruined my son’s life with my own desires and selfishness. I broke his heart and took everything away, and now he’s dead. I can’t ruin her life too. I won’t do that to the love of my life. She deserves better, needs better than a broken man destined to break everything.
I hurt her, I broke her heart.
But it’s better I do it before her life is wrecked like mine. Better that she hates me now. I couldn’t stand to see that love in her eyes fade to hate and then pain. Couldn’t stand to watch her fall out of love with me.
So even though it kills me, I let her go. I gave my angel her wings back, and now she’s gone. And I’m alone. My bed is cold, so I curl over to her side, smelling her sweetness there, cuddling into her pillow as more tears fall.
For the love I’ve lost.
And the family as well.
My life has gone from incredible, the happiest I’ve ever been, to completely broken. And the one woman who could have helped me through it and held me together is the one I just hurt to keep her safe, but she won’t see it that way.
Eventually, she will hate me for tonight, and I will have to accept that.
I have to go on, but without her and Justin…it all seems so pointless.
I haven’t been to work in days. My house is a mess, and I can’t bring myself to answer the phone for anyone. I just drink and read back the messages between Lexi and me. Seeing pictures of us together.
I’m grieving more than my son, but the life I was going to have with her.
The funeral is tomorrow, and I honestly don’t know how I’m going to do this without her. To stand up there alone and watch him be buried. His mum will be there, but we don’t really speak and she has taken this hard. She wants nothing to do with me, blaming me as well.
My dad is going to be there, but I can’t bring myself to face him either. Does he not see the disappointment his son is? Can they not see the pain in my eyes and the guilt in every line of my body?
Tossing my phone across the room, I stumble to my feet and into the kitchen. I fill my glass and throw it back, but not even the burn of the alcohol can numb me from the emotions swirling through me like a tornado. I slam my hand into the wall, watching as it cracks, leaving a hole there. Pulling back my fists, I see my knuckles have split open and blood drips to the floor.
I didn’t even feel it over my emotional pain.
So I do it again, hitting harder with each punch and screaming as I let it all out, and when I fall back to the floor, blood coats both hands and there are holes in my wall. And I still don’t feel better.
Tomorrow will be the worst day of my life, and the only thing I can think of to make it better would be having my angel at my side. But I ruined that too, and now I’m completely alone and will spend the rest of my life like that.
I will die alone. At least I won’t break anyone’s heart when I do.
Angel, I’m sorry.
Lexi
Today is the day we say goodbye to Justin. No matter what he did, I will still be there today for Tyler, even if he doesn’t want me there. Justin’s slate doesn’t get wiped clean because he’s dead, but his father is the love of my life. And whether he knows it or not, he needs me, even if it’s just to understand or meet his eyes for one moment.
Even if I’ve cried all week since we broke up. Since he took my heart and broke it so effortlessly. I thought he was just in pain, but he hasn’t reached out since, and with each passing day, I feel the finality of the end of our relationship.
I thought he was my future, my forever, when I never really expected to find one. He loves—loved me for me. Supported me. He was kind and caring, so fucking exciting, but maybe our relationship started for a bad reason, so ending it for a bad reason makes sense.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I tug down the calf-length, tight black dress. It clings to my curves with long sleeves and a slight V-neck. I add a black cardigan and some heels. My makeup is done, and my hair pushed back in a chignon at the base of my neck.
My eyes are puffy and red, but I can’t help that. I cried in the shower this morning. My heart was aching so much, I couldn’t breathe, so I fell to my knees and rocked back and forth, trying to suck in air. Trying to numb the physical aches from my broken heart.
I want to curl in a ball and cry it all out, but I can’t, because I still love him. Today is the worst day for him, so even if he hates me for it, gets mad or tells me to leave, I’m going, because he’s my Tyler…
My daddy.
The funeral is held at the little local church, set out of the city between rolling fields. The sun shines down in the church, which has a cottage feeling to it. I have to walk through a small brown gate and stone archway crawling with flowers, across an old cobblestone path, and up to the big, old, brown double doors of the building, which provide a glimpse into the past. The church itself is old grey brick, with a high, arched, stained glass window above the door and set around it.
There is a leaflet passed out as we enter with Justin’s picture and an epitaph. Inside the church, there are large stone arches featuring crosses and old carved tombs with dates and names on them. In between are two rows of pews, which are an old, wooden style with the cushions to kneel on hooked on the back of the pew in front.
At the back of the church is a table with a collection plate and more leaflets for Justin. There is no coffin or body here—it’s probably already in the ground—but everyone is dressed in black and the church is very full.
I stand there awkwardly, my fists clenched around the leaflet and my bag, unsure where to go. Where to sit. I spot Tyler at the front, his back rounded where he sits on the first pew. His black suit stretches across his built shoulders, his dark head is bowed, and there is no one else around him. He looks so alone, my heart cracks. I want to reach for him, to comfort him, but I don’t think he would want me to. Tears fill my eyes, my stomach rolls, and my heart bleeds. I’m unable to look away from him, the man I love.
The man who broke my heart.
But in here, his own lies in tatters, and no matter how everything went down, it pains me to see him hurting.
Hurting and alone.
Just then, I feel a touch on my elbow, and I spin around to meet Tyler’s dad’s sad eyes. He’s in a black suit, and his face is drawn. He looks older today. His wife is at his side in a black dress similar to mine. When I meet his gaze, he smiles at me softly. “Want to sit with us?”