17. Willow

Isit alone in my apartment, surrounded by the remnants of our love that once bloomed. The air is heavy with sadness and neglect, mirroring the state of my heart. Each corner seems to hold memories of laughter and joy that have faded away.

The walls, once painted with vibrant colors, now bear the marks of weariness. It’s as if they too have absorbed the weight of my tears and silently echo my pain. Dusty shelves display trinkets that we collected together, each serving as a painful reminder of what we have lost. Or of what I have lost.

A sense of emptiness pervades every inch of this place. The couch where we cuddled feels cold and unwelcoming, like a stranger I no longer recognize. It’s hard to believe that just weeks ago, warmth and love filled these rooms. Now, all that remains is an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and despair.

I cry for the loss of a love that was so beautiful, yet so fragile. An impossible love. My heart aches for the touch that used to ignite sparks within me, now replaced by the icy grip of knowing that it was because of me. I did this.

The words from my letter to Lola play over and over in my head. I went hard; I was cruel. And with every word I wrote, I felt a stab in my heart. But I had wanted to make her angry. To make Lola feel rage, so she would take the money and move on. So she would build a life without me and at least one of us could be happy. Because all I could feel was misery.

My mother, who had never been in my apartment, was around every few days now. She ad hstarted to remove every remnant of Lola. Well, the ones she could see, the ones that weren’t imprinted in my head. In my heart. The ones that played on a loop every single day.

I’d lost weight and my skin looked grey, and my hair seemed greasy no matter how much I washed it. And as often as my mother tried to get me all nice and pretty, it never really looked right.

Work is the only place I can shine, the only thing that matters because I’ve given up everything else. I can’t fail now.

But I find myself constantly thinking about Lola, stalking her almost, in my head. Running through her day, her routine, wondering if anything has changed. Maybe she quit her job, maybe she moved, maybe, maybe, maybe. I have no idea and no right at all to know. This is my punishment for my selfishness.

I can see the panic start to form in my mother. The worry that grows and grows. I have never shown vulnerability and have never let sadness show. But now I live in it. I let it take over my entire being. I know it must be hard for her to watch--hard for her to see me lose myself, knowing that she is very much responsible.

I won’t go up to the house. Not for any other reason than I don’t want to see my father. He has always disappointed me, but that night, when he had the chance to step in, to say he would love me even though I was gay and that of course I would always be his daughter . . . he didn’t. For me, that was the end of our relationship. I will be civil to him, but the tolerance is gone and my need to have his approval has disappeared. As far as I’m concerned, he showed me what mattered: my name, but not my happiness.

“You have to forgive him at some point, Willow,” my mom says softly when I put his birthday invite in the trash.

I look straight at her. “Would you? Would you forgive Pawpaw if he did that to you? Would you forgive Grandma, for that matter?” My voice is laced with venom--I can hear it. I see her physically recoil and I don’t even feel bad. All I feel is nothingness.

Sitting in my small, dimly lit cubicle, I am engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions. My heart feels heavy, burdened by sadness and longing. The remnants of our once-beautiful relationship still linger in my head, reminding me of what we had and what is now lost.

I stare at my phone, debating whether to call her or nota. It’s been weeks since we broke up, but the pain is still as fresh as if it happened yesterday. Memories flood my mind like waves crashing against the shore, leaving behind fragments of love and happiness that have been shattered.

My fingers tremble as I pick up the phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing Lola’s number. A part of me hopes she’ll answer, hoping I can hear her voice one more time. Maybe she will understand the ache inside my chest and offer some solace. Maybe even a glimmer of hope. But then reality sets in. The truth is, calling Lola won’t fix anything. I go to end the call quickly but not before I hear the automated message, “Number no longer in service.”

And it is like Willow actually answered, telling me what I already know. I don’t deserve to seek solace from her; I should be left to feel like this. Because I broke us, I broke her, and I have to live with it. Except I just have to see her. I have to know that she’s okay. So I make my decision. Tonight I will go to the club, just to check on her. It’ll be for her, completely.

But even in my head it is half-hearted. It’s not for her at all. It is all for me.

I sit in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection as I apply my makeup. Tonight is the night I’ll see her again. As I carefully swipe on some mascara, I can’t help but feel a sense of emptiness within me. All I see in my reflection is a clown painting on a smile.

It was our place, where we met, our little sanctuary. A place where we could escape from the world and just be ourselves. But now it feels like everything has changed.

I try to push away the thoughts that linger in my mind, reminding myself that tonight is about finding closure. But no matter how hard I try, the pain still lingers deep within my chest. Every stroke of lipstick reminds me of the passionate kisses we shared, while every swipe of the brush through my hair brings back memories of her gentle touch.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that tonight is not about winning Lola back. It’s about accepting that she’s moved on and finding the strength to do the same. But as I slip into my favorite dress, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever find someone who will love me the way she did. And what kind of person I am, to have let her go.