It happened again when Samir came home and spent the evening with us. He made me forget about her. About our dreams for the future. About our plans for our first Christmas with Ella.
How could I have spent three years mourning Sandra’s loss, thinking of her every waking and sleeping moment, and theminute Samir steps into my life she fades into the background? Fades into nonexistence?
A wet streak ran down the side of my face and into my ear, and it was only then I realized I was crying. But I didn’t even knowwhoI was crying for. Was I crying for Sandra, Ella, Samir, or me?
I tried to breathe, to refill my lungs, to find the words to beg for forgiveness, but the more I thought about all this the more fucked up I felt.
What was wrong with me? What was so fucked up about my head that I could forget the love of my life as soon as a pair of handsome eyes looked at me?
That wasn’t moving on. That was blowing through my past like it meant nothing. Like it was nothing. What had I become?
I kept imagining the disapproving look on Sandra’s face. The hurt in her eyes. Pursing her lips, trying to bite down the tears, the anger.
And still, despite that, I couldn’t not think about Samir, about our kisses, about the moments we’d shared, precious moments alone or with Ella, and how happy being with him made me.
For the first time in forever, I could picture a future. A bright, wonderful future with him. And that hurt more because I shouldn’t be thinking about that. I barely knew the guy. I didn’t know anything about him in the grand scheme of things. I didn’t even know if he wanted kids. If our age difference was a deterrent. If anything about me was.
I was sure when everyone talked to me about moving on, that wasn’t what they meant; shacking up with the first person to stepinto my life. It wasn’t falling for the first handsome guy I dated. Imagining a happily ever after with an unsustainable match.
No. This whole situation was fucked up. Samir fitted into my life way too easily. And that… that wasn’t right.
I wiped my tears away and inhaled deeply, trying to soothe the ache in my chest. Just when it was starting to heal, it seemed to have tripled in the last few days, and it was Samir’s fault.
No.
It wasn’t his fault.
It was mine. There was something wrong with me.
The tears came back, but I wiped them away and tried to close my eyes, to put all this in the back of my mind.
When I managed to find some peace, and I was about to surrender my consciousness to sleep, the siren went off. I had no choice but to shake the exhaustion and the guilt off, get up, and get to work.
Some twenty hours later, I returned home and crashed into my own bed. Haunted by my conscience or not, I had no choice but to nod off.
I woke up Monday morning determined to honor Sandra’s memory in an effort to make up for having let her go so easily.
I took Ella and we visited the cemetery, laid some flowers on the ground, kissed her gravestone, and had Ella talk to Mommy for abit. Even though it was cold, it warmed my chest to see her be so animated, so invested in her talk as if she were talking to the real person and not just a stone.
Maybe it was wild to be doing this, but it was the only way I knew how to honor Sandra. How to make sure neither Ella nor I forgot her. And I promised both of them we’d visit more often. We’d make sure her mother wasn’t just an excuse Ella used to get out of trouble.
We got back home a little after lunchtime and warmed up in front of the fireplace before I made us something to eat. I didn’t know if it was the cold, or the visit, but I felt refreshed today, despite everything. Refreshed and resolute.
And then my phone beeped.
Samir: Hey. How was your shift? Want to go out later?
The ache in my chest came back tenfold, and my head throbbed just reading the message.
I didn’t know what to say or what to do. What was the right thing to do? If I kept seeing him, what guaranteed me I wouldn’t forget about Sandra altogether?
Thankfully, someone walked into the living room before I could reply, so I put my phone down and turned to face Lilian.
“Cole, sweetheart. You’re here,” she said.
“Lilian? What are you doing here? I don’t think Enzo’s here.”
She took a deep breath as if she was catching her breath and then looked at me.
