Page 120 of Outspoken

I echo, “Only chaos.”

I fall into the sound of crickets and leaves rustling from a warm breeze, immersing myself in this one last moment in his arms. Instead of spooning, I roll to face him, nestling my face into his chest. He's a mixture of must and vanilla, and the scent soothes me to my core. His steady breath across my shoulder and the reassuring pressure of his hand on my back erases everything—yesterday, tomorrow. All that exists is now and us.

I commit as many details as I can to memory, so I never forget. I'll never forget his touch, his heartbeat, his loving smile, and playful voice for the rest of my life.

I have a new wish—to exist in this one perfect moment with Miguel forever.

“Thank you for being there every time I needed you,” I say. “You have no idea how much I needed your company during those moments. You kept me strong.”

He kisses my hair. “Please, don’t give me a goodbye speech. I can’t bear it.”

We fall into silence again, laying together for an unknown amount of time. Eventually, he rolls me onto my back, kissing me with every one of his intense feelings, and we make love again. A few stars finally break through the clouds. I catch them in the corner of my eye as I call out his name and let my body break in his embrace.

I blink and the moment is over. We’re in his car, driving away. Still, neither of us speaks. We remain in the painful silence all the way back to his house, then we’re standing on the porch a few inches apart, watching each other hesitantly.

He takes my hand, breaking the spell we were under. His brown eyes are soaked in pain. “I don’t want this.”

I nod. “Maybe in another life,” I say before kissing his cheek. “I’m keeping your jacket, though.”

That gets him to smile right before our lips meet. It’s a long, intense kiss that takes me forever to pull away from. But I have to. My heart is aching too much, an ache that fills every vein down to my toes. We’ve reached our end and we’re only torturing ourselves by lingering.

I might be a glutton for punishment because I just have to hear him say it one more time. I touch his cheek and smile. “I love you.”

“I love you with my entire heart and soul,” he says, cupping my hands against his chest. His face twists as his body is dragged down by shadows on the porch.

His words give me the strength to turn away and walk to my car. Once I’m in motion, I don’t look back. I climb onto the seat and drive away. The feeling of Miguel’s jacket on my skin is the only thing keeping me from breaking into a thousand shards.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Amber

AS I SIT ON A slatted wooden bench in the teacher’s building, I close my eyes. I snuggle into the warmth of Miguel’s jacket, which I’ve been wearing pretty much 24/7 since we parted last week. Even though the weather is warm and the leather sometimes makes me sweat, I don’t like to take it off.

My mind goes blank as I inhale and exhale slowly. I wonder if this is what floating in space is like. My body obviously isn’t weightless, but my insides are. I’m simply floating in a black expanse of space. Aimless. I have no idea where I’m going and there’s no way to change directions. The emptiness just carries me forward to an unknown destination.

There might be no destination. My life could be meaningless.

This might be depression. If it is, it sure feels different this time. I’m not moody or volatile. The ache for drugs is dimmer, though I still think about using. Regardless, I have no desire to off myself or cry for weeks, like I often did in the past.

The night I left Miguel’s, I went home and felt my feelings, which mostly involved sobbing into a pillow until I had a massive headache. I also journaled and colored until my wrist ached. The next morning, something in me switched off. I feel nothing, really. I go about my days in neutral.

I’m not sure if this is what’s supposed to happen when you confront shit. I might be grieving. I don’t know, but I’m going with it—just feeling my feelings, or lack of feelings, and letting any self-destructive thoughts float into the void. Urges too. When I start getting down on myself or when I’m obsessing over how great alcohol or Oxy would be, I remember that they’re only thoughts. Only feelings. They don’t have to mean anything beyond that.

Guess something from therapy stuck after all.

After opening my eyes, I stare at a large abstract painting on the other side of the small, naturally lit corridor I’m waiting in. Colorful paint strokes cover the canvas in no particular order. Paintings like that make me question if the artist had a plan or was simply venting.

I bet I could paint something like that with all of my anger at Mr. Williams.

With a sigh, I lean my head against the floor-to-ceiling window behind me. It’s so strange to be back on campus after not being here for a month. Even though I wasn’t attending classes because it felt pointless, I kept in touch with my Calculus and Art History teachers. I lied about being sick and having family troubles, and they’ve both been incredibly nice and understanding. Since I’ve been riddled with guilt about my lies on top of lies, I completed some of the assignments they emailed me. I’m actually not too far behind in those classes.

I was ready to finally tell them I needed to drop out, but then Miguel’s encouragement to confront Mr. Williams got me thinking. Even if it doesn’t change anything, standing up for myself will give me closure. And Miguel has always believed in me and told me I’m strong, even in my weakest moments. So, besides doing this for myself, I need to do this so his faith in me isn’t wasted.

Who knows—maybe I’ll get a win and magically pass this semester. I won’t know until I speak bluntly with Mr. Williams.

I can be strong.

I am strong.

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