experienced. “Jason,” she screams at the top of her lungs. I fucking love that she’s the only person who calls me by my real name, and she only does it when she’s making her goodbyes or fucking the life out of me. How am I not supposed to be with this woman for the rest of my life? It’s like God placed her on this earth just for me, and now He’s taking her away.
My emotions get the best of me, and it makes it hard to create a grand finale to our grand finale, but I rally, then fall heavily to the side of her, cradling her slim body against mine. I want to beg her not to leave me. I want to plead with her to stay. I want to tell her we’re meant to be together, and leaving will make it so our lives go down two totally different roads that may not cross again. I want to tell her this is a huge fucking mistake.
But that would be the mistake. I know this.
Regret is almost always a mistake. And that will be all she feels someday. I can’t be the reason for that. I won’t be the reason for that.
Neither of us moves an inch for the rest of the night, and I want to stay awake to make sure she doesn’t disappear like all good dreams do, but I drove four hours in a panic, and I’m exhausted beyond belief so I keep my arms locked tightly around her as I succumb to heavier breaths and the backs of my eyelids.
The sun is creeping in through the window, and it burns my eyes into waking up. The moments before realization and memories attach themselves to my reality, I feel for Sasha still locked within my embrace, and then it hits me: I won’t wake up like this again, with the smoothness of her skin connected to mine in a way I don’t ever want to forget. We fit together like the last two pieces to a ridiculously stupid puzzle, and she’s going to go throw that last piece into the bottom of an ocean.
I move a little, needing to pull my arm out of the position it’s in since I can’t feel it after lying like this for hours. The movement forces her to stir and slowly open her eyes, which wasn’t my intention. Looking at me, she stares for a minute, and I’m watching the very same kind of a moment I just had, where all of her realizations slip into place, reminding her of the decision she’s made. Unless last night was so amazing that she changed her mind. That could be. I could see myself causing something so life-changing. My own sarcasm isn’t doing the trick right now.
There are tears in her eyes, and she’s made the decision final. I can see it. “You didn’t tell me not to go,” she says.
“I love you too much to tell you to stay.”
“What if?”
“Don’t,” I tell her.
“But.” I don’t know what’s going on in my head or my chest right now, but everything feels like it’s malfunctioning and fuck, I think tears are forming behind my eyes, and I can’t let her see that. It’s not fair to her. It’ll make her change her mind and…no. Clenching my jaw so tightly I swear I taste blood, I feel one tear make its way to the corner of my eye, and I squeeze them shut as quickly as I can. But Sasha places her hand on my face, and it forces me to look at her. “I don’t know if I can leave you.”
“I can’t hold you back from what you need to do,” I whisper. “I wanted you to go right away so you could get it over with. So you could come back here or ask me to come be with you. I won’t get in the way of this time you need for yourself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to go by as fast as possible.”
“Will you be there when I find myself?”
“Where you find yourself, I’ll be there. So find yourself fast. Okay?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t…not yet. This is silly.”
“It takes an incident, trauma, life, and death to make you realize what you should or shouldn’t be doing. If yesterday’s outcome, causes, and effects created this decision, then that means something. You’ve got to follow your heart. You want to run away. Run away. Be free. Find you.” Even