Page 103 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me
“What I said on the roof was true,” he said. “None of this is because of you. I’m not trying to punish you. I’m not trying to be an asshole. I just…” He ran his hand through his hair, much shorter than it used to be, and grabbed the back of his neck.
“I feel like I’m living in a black hole. I’m in limbo. It’s like purgatory.” His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “Purgatory,” he repeated like he was trying to grapple with themeaning and couldn’t figure out why that word had come out of his mouth.
I’d become his dictionary. When words felt foreign to him, I provided the definition. “You were raised a Catholic and Catholics believe that after you die, the pure souls go directly to heaven. The sinners, the rapists and murderers who show no remorse go to hell. The third option is purgatory.” I took a sip of my wine and shifted my weight. A twinge of pain shot through my hip.
I was battle-scarred and wounded from my near brush with death. No idea why I was still sitting in this bathtub, a ceramic holding cell with a hard, unforgiving surface.
“Like you said, purgatory is that in-between place, like you’re in limbo,” I continued. “It’s where you’re sent when you need to purify your soul and repent before they open the pearly gates and let you in.” Not sure how accurate that was since I wasn’t raised Catholic but I thought I’d gotten it mostly right.
“Fuck the pearly gates. Who are they to decide who gets in and who doesn’t?”
I tried to smile. That was such a Gabriel thing to say. “You’d probably appreciate Eastern philosophy. Maybe you’re not in purgatory at all. Maybe you’ve been reincarnated and now you just have to figure out how to live in your new form.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I believe in. I don’t know what I stand for or what’s meaningful to me. How do you live according to what you believe in if you don’t even know what that is?”
That had always been so important to Gabriel. Such a fundamental part of who he was—to live by his own beliefs, to be true to himself and his art, and to always follow his heart. He was so emotional and so passionate in everything he did.
Now he had no sense of purpose.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I need to say it,” I said. At this point, I had nothing left to lose. I knew he was leaving. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. “Find your way back to music, Gabriel, and then you’ll find yourself. Music will save you.”
He was quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry, Cleo. I’m sorry for everything.”
I wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for what happened on the roof earlier. Or for leaving.
Either way, he walked out of the kitchen and left me in the bathtub getting drunk on my own tears.
A little while later, I stood in our bedroom doorway and watched him pack.
“Where will you go?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to hold all the broken pieces together. My heart physically ached and I had a pit in my stomach that made it difficult to breathe.
Gabriel looked over and for a brief moment, I thought he would change his mind, but he went back to stuffing clothes into his duffel bag and that feeling of dread returned. “It doesn’t really matter to me. I’m just going to hop on a bus and see where it takes me.”
Like a beat poet crisscrossing the country in search of enlightenment and the true meaning of life. Only this time he was searching for himself, and I didn’t know if he would ever come back.
There were a million things I wanted to tell him. Like how much I loved him and how much he meant to me and how he wasn’t only my lover but my best friend too.
What am I going to do without you?
I wanted to beg him to stay. I wanted to throw myself at him and wrap my arms around his legs so he’d have to drag me with him when he walked out the door.
I wanted to tell him that we could start fresh and fall in love all over again. But it took two people to fall in love and only one of us had a vested interest.
To him, I was just a stranger. So I said nothing.
Instead, I grabbed an empty notebook from the shelf and copied everyone’s phone numbers from my address book. Then I chose some of the books he used to love from the shelves and handed them to him, mostly to buy some extra time.
He dutifully packed the books and the notebook in his bag then zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder, ready to go.
“Just…” I blinked away my tears. “Be safe, okay? Take care of yourself and…” My throat closed up and the words died on my lips.
Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight.
Eventually, his arms came around me and we held on to each other. Twin flames that had burned out.
My eyes drifted shut and I breathed him in. I never wanted to let him go.
Please don’t leave me. Stay. Forever.
