Haunted Transitions

It was just this Saturday.
"Hm, she must not be here yet."
We both looked in the direction of the driveway for his sister.
"Well, you could always call her. We can wait."
Both of us got out of the car and walked to the door.
He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, letting me in first.
"Oh, hey, I have to show you something."
"Okay, what is it?"
"Come on."
He started to walk towards the stairs and turned to wait for me to get there.
Up the two flights and then down the hall to the far bedroom.
"Okay, I have a confession to make. She and the kids really aren't going to be here until Monday. I wanted this to be our first official date."
He pulled back the blinds to reveal the balcony overlooking the lake and on the little table sat a bottle of wine and two glasses.
Three glasses of pink moscato down, my hand in his, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

Eyes close.

Smile freezes. 

It was the summer of 2010. 

Tony and I went to our favorite camping spot and this year it was dry enough that we could reach the island. 

I stirred under the pile of blankets and turned to look at him. 

His eyes fluttered open as shadows of leaves fluttered over his face like tree lashes. 

It wasn't planned, and the synchronized wake of 6:30 am on that summer day hadn't been planned at all either. 

We got up, let his dog out of the tent, and began to walk towards this island. 

I had said that I wanted to walk to it, that it was sort of mystical with the way it sat there, so close, but still taking some effort to get there. 

Walking to the left, we went until we got to shallow water to skip to where the sand and water flirted with surface of the lake. 

From there, we walked along the front, left to right. 

It was so still and so quiet. 

The water barely even lapped at the shore, almost unwilling to break the stillness. 

We came around the right side of the island and my breath sort stopped in my throat. 

There were birds everywhere. 

They sat quietly on the sand, some seagulls floated on the water lazily. 

All different kinds, silent. 

We slowly walked among them and I don't think I really breathed just so that the moment would stay frozen. 

His dog sniffed at a few and they beat their wings, flying to the early morning sky. 

All of sudden all of them followed suit and I ran to the middle, threw my arms up, and twirled in the middle of their flight, as though they would take me away. 

On a turn I saw him standing there and ran back to him, kissing him. 

He tried not to smile and then I saw one play at his lips. 

Eyes open. 

Smile resumes. 

"Of course I will." 

It was the summer of 2009.

"I probably won't marry you." 

I laid on Tony's counter, drunk. 

He had picked me up from my friend's house and we had had one too many margaritas. 

The shower ran a steady stream and I heard his movement stop. 

"What? What do you mean you wouldn't?" 

"I don't know, I just don't think we're similar enough. You won't even go to church with me." 

I could hear hurt in his voice. We had only been dating since January, and I guess even then I thought it was strange he sounded hurt. 

I've made many a misplaced comment, but that one seemed to have found a place. 

Blink. 

A memory flits by one after the other. 

On my graduation Tony came coming down. 

I received my Valedictorian metal, first in my class, and gave a great speech, one I had pulled from my heart. 

He didn't come to my reception, obviously. 

L and his mom came. 

He stood next to me and talked as people filed by to shake our hands and wish all of us graduating luck. 

He stayed for my entire reception. 

At his, he walked back to where I was siting in the bleachers to give me a hug. 

Tony never liked going to my family events. He said they didn't like him. 

That wasn't true. 

And I went alone. 

L went to my grandma's birthday party yesterday, he sat there and stroked my hand as my 93 year old grandmother told us some stories of when she was younger, of WWII, and meeting her two husbands. 

I see myself sitting on the toilet crying, head in my hands, as he used on our anniversary. 

I see the dinners we would make and then sit at the table and eat next to his huge fish tank, always joking that it was our own personal Chinese restaurant. 

I see L and I laying in the grass at the lake, looking up at the stars, lying close. 

We just talked. Always something a little there. 

I went to look through albums on my Facebook and file folders of pictures on my computer and in every single one, L was there. 

For everything. 

I'm afraid of commitment. 

I'm afraid of failure. 

I'm afraid to let go of the past. 

Today is a little harder and I feel myself struggling under the weight of experiencing emotions. 

Why am I so sad?

Is this what mourning is? 

Is this what people do? 

I am split and the majority of my fibers scream to restrict, that I'm fat, that I've gotten bigger, that I'm ugly. 

They say that I'm a slut for doing things this way, breaking up with him and going to someone else. 

<but we've been friends for six years....>

Mom made chocolate cake and I had a piece for breakfast. 

Tried to mentally calorie calculate it. 

Tried to purge some. 

Lowered my calories to 1000 on MyFitnessPal.

Wanted to cry. 

What is this? 

I struggle to cut off contact. 

I struggle to accept myself and the feelings I have, like they're dirty things you hide under your bed. 

My mind tells me that I jumped in with someone else and was so heartless.

My hearts says no, I did what was right and healthy. 

Maybe it's the part of me believing I am undeserving of light and life. 

I don't know. 

And what I wonder through all of this is, why have I barely cried? Why am I so numb? Am I really so heartless? 

Recovery from anything that haunts you is not an easy road. 

The memories seep through walls of my mind like ghosts. 

They are cold and too hot and crawl from floor to ceiling. 

I open a window and there's another one that needs opening. 

I need help.