Chapter 27

Leah

            My eyes feel heavy as I open them to the light that is filling my apartment.  When the rays of sunshine hit their scratchy surface, I instantly shut them remembering they will be vulnerable to everything after last night.  The memories come flooding in even though I grab my head in an effort to block them out. 

            After Lyle left my apartment, I curled up on the couch and fell asleep.  My heart was at peace knowing that in the morning I would be able to explain what had happened and see where Noah and I stood.  Inside I knew that he would be hurt, but I thought I had time to fix it.  When I heard the laughing as they approached his apartment I knew I had made a huge mistake.  I’d shown him that opening his heart to me would so easily end in hurt.  I’d done that, and now I must suffer the consequences. 

            I wasn’t going to look.  I knew who was with him the second her maniac laugh had filled the hallway.  It was the same laugh I’d heard when Mandy paid him a visit a few weeks ago.  Staying on the couch became a struggle.  My fingers clenched onto the cushions as I fought a war within myself.  Finally my will broke and I looked through the small peephole as Mandy guided a drunken Noah back to the apartment we had shared only a few hours earlier. 

            Being angry is what might be the normal response, but the anger never came.  I panicked.  My heart began thumping quickly in my chest and my stomach rolled into a knot and lodged itself somewhere in my ribs.  There was no recovering from what I’d done unless I wanted to fling myself out of my front door and try to explain to a drunk man why I ‘d walked away from him to spend the night with my ex. 

            It took a few minutes after his door shut for me to be able to pull myself away from the peephole.  I was having trouble moving my legs and the world around me had begun to spin with the chaos of my thoughts.  My broken heart crippled my movement as I struggled to make it back to the couch without collapsing on the floor.  When I finally laid my body down on the cushions, I let the tears fall until the exhaustion of crying lulled me to sleep. 

            So now I’m nursing an emotional hang over as I gather my strength for what today is going to bring.  I have to face him, not because that’s what is best or what I want, it’s because today I’m moving out.  The only saving grace this morning is that both of our apartments are quiet.  Imagining what must have gone on in there is bad enough, having to hear it would have been torture. 

            I sit up on the edge of the couch and let my feet hit the cold floor.  I feel the ache immediately, but I don’t pull my feet back up since the ache of cold is nothing compared to the ache from the emptiness in my heart.  My options are very limited this morning.  I can forget about my stuff and run away from Noah, or I can put on my big girl panties and face the destruction that came from my horrible move last night. 

            Of course running away isn’t going to save me forever.  I need to get my stuff and I owe him some closure.  He gave me the best date of my life and some wonderful weeks of great friendship.  With a big breath and a small prayer, I stand up and make my way to the bathroom so that I can get this day over with as soon as possible.  I know from having my heart broken before that there will be a certain point in the day when I’ll want to give up.  Give up on what I’m doing, give up on what I still need to do, and give up on the hope that I’ll ever feel better.  The clock is ticking.

            What’s the appropriate outfit for having your heart yanked out of your chest and stomped on?  I opt for yoga pants and an old concert tee.  Make-up is not going to help since my eyes are swollen and it is very clear I didn’t sleep well.  I brush through my tangled, wet hair and twist it up into a messy bun on my head.  Good enough for the project at hand. 

            I hesitate outside his door as I hold the key to his apartment in my palm.  What are the rules now?  I’m not sure it’s ok that I just walk in like I live here, but at the same time I kind of do.  My guess is that they’re in his bedroom so with a shaky hand I open the door and step into the dark apartment with the plan to grab what I can out of the extra room and make an escape before they wake up. 

            It plays out very much like a scene from my worst nightmare.  The door sweeps open, dragging an item of clothing with it as it slides across the floor.  I close my eyes for a second and breathe in and out slowly and to keep my heart from leaping out of my throat.  When I feel I’m composed again, I take a few more steps in, avoiding the next few items of women’s clothing as I make my way towards the extra room. 

            It isn’t her clothing that breaks me; it’s his.  I see his shirt from last night crumpled up at my feet and feel myself crumble.  My head falls forward and my shoulders lose ground as they roll into my chest.  I’m trying hard not to let the sobs out as my body rocks with silent cries.  I watch as the tears falling from my eyes land on his shirt below and feel the weight of the world threaten to crush me. 

            In this moment it becomes painfully clear that I have underestimated the amount of misery falling for Noah could opening me up to.  You see, with Lyle I had slowly lost hope that we could be successful at a relationship.  When he had broken up with me, the hope in our relationship had long burned out and we were only staying afloat on history and loyalty. 

Noah is the exact opposite.  With him I was still on the high of hoping love could work.  He had held my hand, kissed my lips and stolen my heart.  Today as I bend down and pick his shirt up to cradle in my arms I know that the loss of that beautifully innocent hope is going to sting for a very long time. 

“Leah,” his voice floats across my skin.  In the dim light I see that he is lying on the couch a few feet in front of me.   This should be our morning.  I should be hassling him about his warped views on love while perched on his counter.  He should be reciting all the statistics about exactly how wrong I am to believe in everlasting relationships as he makes our breakfast. 

None of that is real though.  My reality is a broken heart and the man that I’m falling for lying in the shadows in front of me at the end of a trail of clothing.  I close my eyes as the words fall from his lips, “Please don’t cry.”

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