januarie robinson
- september 28, 2018 -

            "HEY," LUCAS TURNED AND SMILED when I walked into box office. He sat in a deep green director's chair with a book in his lap. I held a bleach bucket in one hand and a rag in the other. I refused to look at him. I knew what my face looked like today and he wasn't the one causing it.

            He didn't deserve the way I would have looked at him.

            "Hey," I winced at the sound of my own voice. It laid flat and weighted heavily in the air the moment it left my lips. The atmosphere changed in a matter of seconds. Like I'd sucked all the warmth and happiness from the room.

            "Whoa," he shot from his seat, but then simply stood there as if he couldn't make up his mind on what to do. Glancing between me and the bucket, he opened his mouth to speak, but shut it just as fast.

            I set down the bucket and dunked my rag in the water without another word. Moving around the room, I scrubbed everything I could get my hands on. When I couldn't reach anything else I grabbed the step ladder and started again.

            "Do you want to, um," he spoke gently as if not to startle me, "talk about whatever it is that's bothering you?"

            "No," I snapped. After cleaning every surface I could, I grabbed the window cleaner and started on those. Halfway through the second window, I cracked under the pressure of the air. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back, "I'm just mad."

            Standing on the counter, I reached up to the top seal, but stopped short and my arms dropped to my side.

            "I'm pissed actually," my voice broke and I cursed at myself, "I, ah—I clean when I'm upset. It gives me something to do with my hands rather than being stuck in my own head."

            I pulled myself back to the task at hand, but that didn't stop the tears from forming in my eyes. This wasn't what I needed right now.

            Once the inside was finished, I grabbed the ladder and went outside to do the other side of the glass. The sun was hot on my back, but I welcomed it. A few tears slipped from my eyes, but I didn't stop; not even when a young raven-haired girl left with a group of friends.

            I checked over each window and returned inside. The air conditioning hit me like a frate train. George and I shared a look when I stopped short of the door and simply stared at it for a moment longer than I should have.

            Stepping into box office, I leaned the ladder back against the wall, "I'm going to get the vacuum. I'll be right back."

            "Probably not the best thing to say right now, but we should get you made more often. This place looks amazing." He chuckled to himself. I appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood.

            My lips twitched up, but I couldn't quite form the smile I wanted to. A thanks was about all I could mumble before leaving. He wasn't wrong. You could probably eat off any surface in there and it would be fine, but nothing helped the twisting in my stomach.

            In the back of the janitor's closet, I grabbed the vacuum. I went to pick it up, but the energy needed for that I couldn't find anywhere in my body or my soul. I might just deflate if I stood in place for too long.

            Dragging was the next best thing. Halfway across the lobby, I felt the tears slip from my eyes. I just kept picturing Elena's pretty smile and hearing her roaring laughter. Swearing at myself, I wiped them away with my arm, but they kept falling.

            Opening the door, I shoved the vacuum into the room. Lucas looked over at me, but I barely glanced over at him with the water rolling down my cheeks. His eyes moved across my shaking body.

            "Watch this, please," my voice cracked and I sniffled, frantically wiping my face again. I hated when people saw me cry, "I'll be right back."

            If he answered, I didn't stick around to hear it. The door closed behind me and I watched the floor on my way to the bathroom. Once inside, I crumbled in one of the stalls. Tears poured down my face.

            I never wanted to punch something so bad in my entire life.

            How could all of this be happening? It definitely wasn't fair. My back fell against the door and my head dropped into my lap. My hands formed fists. I could feel the blood in my veins start to boil, but at the same time I couldn't breathe.

            My chest rose and fell far too fast for me to mentally keep track of it anymore.

            A knock on the tile wall echoed through the bathroom and I stiffened. Sucking in a breath, I held it and quickly wiped my face. Still, I didn't move from the stall.

            "Januarie," George's voice spoke softly, but it reached me nonetheless, "Lucas is in the office and wants to talk to you."

            I let out a shaky breath, "I'll be there in a minute."

            I ran a hand down my face. I could feel the heat seeping from my skin. I blew my nose in toilet paper and flushed it. I sighed and went to the sink. Pausing in front of the mirror, I stared at myself.

            I almost didn't recognize the person staring back at me. My face was all red and puffy. I ran the cold water until it felt like an ice cube in my hands. Splashing my face, I grabbed a handful of paper towels to dry off.

            It didn't help much for looking like I'd been crying, but my face felt better. I pulled my hair out, it sprung out like a lion's mane before I freshened it into another ponytail.

            I filled my lungs with air and held it until they began to ache. A habit I picked up as a kid and never seemed to shake. My heart pounded against my ribcage and my head got light. Finally, I let out the air and my whole body felt empty.

            It didn't feel like I was moving at all. More like I was floating through the air. Objects moved past me, but faces were more like blurred out blobs than anything else.

            I felt numb now. There was no anger, no sadness, just the void of everything you were supposed to feel when someone was dying.

            I don't remember knocking on the office door before walking in, but I'm sure I did. Lucas turned around, his eyes barely catching sight of me before they dropped to the floor. He gestured towards the office chairs.

            He let out a low sigh, "I just—I thought the chairs would be more comfortable than the bathroom floor."

            I shut the door behind me and pushed off it. Moving past him, I flopped down on the chair and pulled my legs up to my chest. My hands shook when they wrapped around them.

            Lucas took this opportunity to take a giant step towards the other side of the room and put all the space between us that he could.

            "She's dying," the words fell from my lips before I could even think of stopping them. I refused to look up. I didn't want to see the sympathy in his eyes like everyone else's. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me; especially Lucas.

            "They, uh." I struggled to talk around the lump in my throat, "They found a lump. On her brain."

            I've come to learn that when you're kind hearted, people tend to think that you shatter when bad things happen. Don't get me wrong I do, sometimes I shatter multiple times in a single day, but that didn't mean I couldn't put myself back together. I'd done it before and I'd do it again.

            "And, there's nothing I can do to stop it," I formed a shaking fist. The skin turned white and my palms started to hurt, but I just stared at my knees, "I can't—I can't help her. I can't fix this."

            Hot tears formed in my eyes as they wandered up to meet Lucas' eye, "Who am I if I can't fix this? That's my job. My only job is to fix things and I can't—I can't fix any of it."

            Grabbing the other chair, he pulled it in front of me and sat down. Hesitantly, his grabbed my hand with his and peeled my fingers open. Nail impressions dug deep into my palm. His brows pulled and he closed his eyes, his thumb running over the sore indentations.

            "Listen," he brought a hand up to my chin and moved my head so he could look me in the eyes, "you can't like your life that way. You have so much to offer the world, but if you're constantly living for other people, you'll never be happy."

            "Trust me," he sighed and his lips twitched up for only a second, "I've tried. It doesn't work out all that well."

            His eyes wandered around my face before dropping his gaze to our hands, "The best thing you can do for anyone is to love them even if they're a little broken. Not everything is meant to be fixed and not every situation in life is fixable."

            "That pain. It never goes away. I'm not saying one day you'll forget about them, but not every day will be like this one. I know it's hard feeling so useless. I know." He wrapped his hands around mine, "But, you are strong enough to get through this. All of it."

            "Take this time you have with them and make it the best you can. Reminisce about the memories you've already made together. We might lose people throughout our lives, but when we have them in our memories, we carry them with us everywhere we go."

            I squeezed his hand tight and leaned forward, a new wave of tears flowing from me. He swiveled his chair next to mine and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, holding me to him. I couldn't get the tears to stop, no matter how much I wanted them to.

            We sat there for a long time. Lucas talked about his grandmother who died from cancer when he was just a kid. He told me about the people he's lost. I'd never met someone who'd been to so many funerals before the age of eighteen.

            I dropped his hand and wiped my face, "How? How did you get through all of that?"

            He leaned back in his chair, "For a long time, I didn't. I was angry at everything when I was a teenager. I blew up over the smallest things and punched a hole in my bedroom wall more than once."

            "What changed?"

            "Nothing, for a long time actually," he glanced my way. "It's hard to get close to anyone when you've learned at a young age that most people eventually leave if they want to or not. At least that's how I felt."

            "But then," he sighed, "I met this girl a while ago and she's kind of like a point of light. She believes in romance and soulmates and true love. And, just being around her makes it hard not to start believing in those things too."

            I smiled and sucked in a shaky breath, "She sounds pretty exceptional, this girl."

            He chuckled, "She is, but know this. I don't mean for you to run out and fall in love with someone. I just mean that sometimes other people can help you see the beauty in everyday life and eventually you start seeing it too and you don't even realize it."

            Laughing, my hands through my hair, "So, where can I find someone like that? I think I need that kind of positivity in my life."

            He stared at me and went to speak, but changed his mind. He looked at the ground and smiled before shaking his head, "She's easier to find than you might think."