Page 33 of Give My Everything
I’m not sure I was ever in love with him, not in the traditional way. Not in the way that meant I couldn’t breathe without him. Not in the way true love in a relationship is supposed to look.
How I felt about Lucas was always this desperate scramble, this ache of need for his love that was rooted in a dark place. I felt like his love could heal my wounds, make me whole, fix the broken parts of me that were destroyed by someone else.
But that’s not how life works, and instead of him lifting me up, I began to drag him down.
“I’m just calling to let you know I ran into Paige today,” I say, feeling like this is the right thing to do. “I was shopping and she was there and she said all these things that I know are true and I just…I don’t know. I wanted to make sure you know—not because Paige did anything wrong, but because I don’t want the truth to get misconstrued.”
There’s a pause. “Yeah, she called me right after you left the store, actually.”
I laugh, though the humor in it would be hard to find, even with a microscope.
“She said you apologized to her about us, and I just want you to know, Remmy…you never have to apologize, okay? Ever. We loved each other for a long time, and it’s okay for that to have not been enough to keep us together.”
“I know,” I whisper, my emotions feeling raw and exposed.
Lucas was the one person I thought might have been my way to have something normal.
Tobesomething normal.
But I was wrong.
Because even when I had him, I was still broken. I still did things that hurt him, things I thought would protect me but only ended up costing me his love in the end.
I clench my jaw, not wanting to stew in those memories. So I cut things off as soon as I can.
“Look, I gotta go, okay? But I hope you’re doing well.”
Lucas pauses again, and I think I hear a female voice in the background.
“Call me any time,” he says. “And I hope you’re doing okay, too, Rem.”
I hang up without responding, wanting to get off the phone as quickly as possible, dropping it onto my bed like it’s burned me.
And it has.
I wasn’t holding out hope for anything between the two of us to repair itself—not even a little bit—but there’s something about calling Lucas and knowing he’s with Lennon that twists sharply inside of me.
It’s not because I wanthim, but because I know he’s happy without me…because I can assume he’s happierwithout me.
And if that isn’t enough to wrench apart something inside of me, I don’t know what is.
My brush streaks across the white.
Blues. Grays. Blacks.
It isn’t until my canvas is over halfway covered that I realize what I’m painting. A storm over the water. Out in the distance, approaching the shore.
It’s such a representation for how I feel right now even if I didn’t paint it intentionally.
I never paint intentionally. That’s never the goal.
Instead, I allow how I’m feeling to explode in front of me, to take on a life outside my mind. It’s a chance to purge out whatever feeling or fear or rush of joy is running through me.
Though mostly, my emotions tend to cover the canvas in darker colors, gloomier images, scenes that reflect the pains from my past, the worries of my present, my fears for the future.
There is so much on the way, scary things that are bigger than I can understand, things I don’t know if I can handle on my own.
I sigh, mixing two colors together and smearing them into a corner, hoping to replicate the movement of the ocean. But it doesn’t look right. Something’s missing.
