Page 43 of I See Red

Get your fucking shit together.

Exiting my vehicle, stalking towards the big metal door, I swing it open with force. As I break the barrier into our past, the musk in the air hits hard, taking me back to the nineties when I was hers, she was mine, and our world was much simpler. Chills trail up my spine. Glancing to my left, I head past the original office that became a medical room years later. The mere view takes me back to Gerald, our bus driver, who we’d randomly catch throwing back a capful of peroxide, swearing up and down it cleansed him. The memory calms me momentarily, bringing a laugh to my throat as I pass the doorway heading into Studio A. I stop at the white benches still lying perfectly as they were right at the edge of the horrid blue carpet with red tape laid in perfect rows across it. Memories of years of my childhood are housed here. There was a time when hundreds of kids lined those rows at attention. My eyes follow them until I see her bare feet. My heart skips a beat, my hand finding the wood of a bench to sturdy myself as I look at the girl I loved within these walls, now a woman. She makes the background look breathtaking. In a way, she looks the same—still broken and searching, just many years older.

I wanted so much more for you, for us. I am sorry.

Moments pass as we stand here, taking each other in, our eyes saying so much, our lips sealed. It feels like an eternity standing here. Breaking the silence, I’m hoping all my fears are those of my mind, and maybe in some way, we are here to rebuild a foundation rather than burn ourselves down.

“Mi Amor.”

“Tayden.” Her voice cracks, slashing my heart.

“I guess time capsules are real, and some people do return to open them, huh?” I tease, feeling her out.

“Yeah, they warn you about opening them, but this wasn’t opened, T. It was preserved.”

I arch a brow, confused. “Preserved?”

“Yeah, preserved. For it to be a time capsule, it would have had to be buried and walked away from,thenreopened and revisited years later.” Her voice darts across the room, the pure emptiness of this place carrying it loudly in all directions.

“So that’s not what we’re doing right now? Reopening and revisiting it?” My glare darkens. Her body hasn’t moved an inch as she stands firmly before me. I reach the edge of the carpet, removing my shoes as I begin trekking towards her, waiting for her reply. My act of removing my shoes acknowledging the seriousness of this moment and respect for this tombstone.

“It’s whatyouare doing, but for me, I never left.” I can see the tears begin to build in her beautiful brown eyes with each word she releases, almost a testament from her soul. And it’s breaking in front of me as I watch her face tremble in a fierce attempt to hold it all together.

“Tell me, Amor, tell me what you mean.” My steps slow, steadily heading in her direction. Pause takes over her, her body completely frozen as her hand clears the stream from her eyes. Her lips part, but no words escape as I watch on. I want nothing more than to wrap her sweet body in my arms and tell her it’s going to be ok, but I can’t because I know her too well, and that’s the last thing she wants in this moment, even if she craves it deep within her lost heart. She has something to say and needs me to listen more than anything right now. Reaching her, I reach my hand out, craving to feel her. Pulling away from me, her voice turning from tender to that of a soldier.

“Don’t!” she shouts, taking a step back. Her resistance cuts me deep.

You are not her comfort right here in this fucking moment.

“You don’t get to do that, T, you don’t get to fucking—God, why is it you always think touch is the answer to everything? Fuck!” she shouts, her eyes enraged.

“Then tell me, Ivy, why am I here? Why are you here? How the fuck are we here?” My arms circling the air, searching the empty tomb, pleading for answers, something,anything.

“We areherebecause I wanted to meet you here. Weareherebecause I own this building and have for all these years. We areherebecausethis,right here, this fucking place is wherewebegan, and—” her arms flip around with her words, and I know where her sentence is headed, and I won’t allow it—I can’t. A world without her, without Red, is not a world I wish to exist in.

“Don’t,” I bite, moving in ignoring all warnings she has given me to stay away. My hands scurry to embrace her tear-filled cheeks.

“Look at me!” I command, grasping her face. But just as she was as a little girl, her stubbornness wins, and her view does not hold me in it as she stares off at the wall.

“Look at me.” My voice digging deeper and darker, not taking no for an answer. My words, her roadmap for her deep brown eyes to find mine.

“Look at me,” I repeat louder, grabbing her attention.

“What, T?” she shouts.

“Why? Why did you buy this place?”

“Why? Is it not obvious?” she snaps.

“I have a version of an answer, but I want yours, Amor.”

“Because.”

“Amor, it is me. Look at me. It’s just me and you in this empty room. You’re safe. Tell me why, help me understand.”

“Because T, in a world where my entire life was fucking breaking day in and day out this, was the only constant; this was the only home I ever had. Regardless of what people thought of me or how other students, instructors, and parents treated mehere,thiswas my safe place in the world. This is all I ever had that was good in this fucking world. This was where I learned to love and where love found me, in Studio B at those fucking wooden lockers with you! Thisfucking buildingthat meant nothing to anyone when it no longer served them was the only place that resembled a childhood to me, and my memories here have never stopped serving me. When I went home to my torture every evening as a child, it started hurting a little less and less each day as time passed because I’d remember tomorrow I’d get a few hours here again. Safety would come again when I bowed in atthatdoor.” Her ability to control her tears has dissipated, as they pour from her eyes like raging waters heading downstream a mile a minute. Tears bead in my own, and my heart shatters at her words, but I fight like hell, trying to control my emotions for her.

“Amor, my love, I—” My words fall flat, disappearing as quickly as they began. I should have put two and two together when she sent this address. I’m surprised she owns it, and not, all in the same breath. Everything she does has always been so calculated. I guess I never thought about what this place was to her when she told me that weekend in Maine about her father and her life—fuck, about my own father. I’m saddened how deep and tormented all this has been for her. How agonizing her entire life has been. Years back, when she messaged me, and we reconnected, I guess I always thought her life had turned out so amazing. That’s what social media does, though. You search for someone from your past, and you think they live a blissful life, but you never truly know what type of battles they are facing or continue fighting from their past every day. Ghosts don’t live on the internet except those who are no longer with us, kept alive by others who wish they would have said more, done more, had more time. It was no secret to everyone in these walls that Ivy was different. She never had many friends, but I loved her, andshe loved those who never gave her the time of day. I remember watching her day in and out, never giving up on trying to fit in. I only ever saw her as perfect because, to me, she was—still is. I never saw all the dark. Maybe I just didn’t want to see it, and I’m naive as fuck for that. I was a kid, but I’m a fucking adult now. I should have pieced it all together by now through our years.

---