Perfectly Lonely - Jessica Marin

Prologue

LAYLA

It was a beautiful, sunny day when I met you at college orientation.

It was a beautiful, sunny day when we got married on the beach of Sanibel Island.

It was a beautiful, sunny day when you gave me the last kiss goodbye before going out with friends on a boat on Lake Michigan.

And it was a beautiful, sunny day on the day I buried you.

As I sit here visiting your grave on the anniversary of your death, I look up at the sky to find it another beautiful, sunny day.

I feel that days like today are a big fuck you to people like me. People who have unfairly had loved ones taken from them and are expected to have dispositions that match the weather when blessed with such beautiful days. Any happiness I show the world is mostly a façade, because on the inside I’m still completely gutted that you aren’t here with me anymore. Doesn’t matter that it’s been years since the last time you touched me. People say that time heals all wounds and it’ll get easier, but my anger hasn’t dissipated.

We were only married for two years.

We never even had our chance to have children.

Everyone says it was a horrible tragedy. An accident that no one could have predicted. You were just enjoying the lake when another boat collided with yours. Out of all the people on both boats, you were the only one who didn’t make it back.

And I still want to know why.

Why were you taken from me?

What lesson was I supposed to learn from this?

Because I fell in love with you the first moment you shined that blinding smile at me. I treasured and cherished every day we were together. I was thankful for you in my life, never once taking advantage of you or our life together.

Some days, I wake up feeling like I’m in a horrible nightmare. It’s all a cruel joke. That I’m being punished, but for what, I don’t know. Instead of remembering our good times together, I’m drowning in my bitterness toward a love I feel was wasted.

If you met the person that I’ve become since your death, you wouldn’t even glance in my direction. To fill the void of your loss, I’ve thrown myself into work and when that’s done, I drink to become numb before having mindless sex with strangers. Strangers who I hoped would make me feel again, but none of them come close to you. So I let them fuck me — the harder, the better — waiting to actually feel something again. And after it’s all done, I convince myself that I imagined it all, that I would never do what I just did, until I lose consciousness from consuming too much alcohol.

But even I recognize that I’m letting my life spin out of control. That moment of realization came when I was standing in line at a fast food restaurant and I caught the attention of a guy checking me out. When you were alive, his lewd stare would have classified him as sleazy. But I met his gaze, gave him an encouraging smile, engaged him in conversation and then proceeded to fuck him in the backseat of his car. As soon as he drove away, I threw up in the bushes and called my best friend, Jenna, crying hysterically at what a disgusting human being I’ve become. She dropped everything and met me at the apartment you and I once shared. She hugged me while I cried out all of my regrets, never once scolding or judging me. Instead, she cried with me and told me I was going to be okay.

If only I could believe her.

I know this isn’t the life you would want me to lead. You tell me that every time you visit me in my dreams. Those dreams, the ones I love and loathe at the same time, because I wake up to what reality is for me now.

An empty life without you.

I stab at the angry tears streaming down my face and look behind me at Jenna sitting in her car, waiting. She always meets me here on the anniversary of your death. Despite her hatred for cemeteries, she does it for me and out of respect for you, whom she loved like a brother. She has experienced her own share of heartbreak and even though I’ve considered a second attempt at joining you in heaven, I’ve realized that she needs me more. Jenna now has a beautiful daughter

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