Mine Still

Heavy

"How are you and my mom?" Jenna asks, tucking long, blonde hair behind her ear. It's the only thing I can see. I shift uncomfortably in the dark, legs tucked up under me like a pretzel. We're sitting on some sort of braided rug. Intense brown eyes lock onto mine as she copies my movements.

My stomach dips, and my hands prick with sweat. Her question hits my soul.

"Not good," I admit. The air around us is charged with electricity as I study Jenna. Her straight nose perches above thin, plump lips. Her inquisitive eyes match her brothers'. That hurts.

Tears well up in my eyes. Jenna coughs, and I realize with a start she's still looking at me expectantly. I should expand, but the air feels heavy. The words aren't coming.

"I don't know why," is all I can manage. She contemplates my answer, putting a thoughtful hand below her dimpled chin. The dim light makes her look ethereal, radiant. She wears a small, sad smile, and my face matches hers.

"You don't cry for him," Jenna whispers. I can barely hear her, like the volume has gone down on her voice. The lamp on the bedside table beside us briefly flickers and a chill runs down my spine. "She doubts how much you love him."

"I do, Jenna," I protest, tears spilling down my cheeks. It's all I can do to keep from screaming. "I love him so much it hurts."

The doubt on her face scrapes away layers of skin from my heart, raw and real. The agony is indescribable. Jenna shakes her head, hair untucked and shading her face. There are no tears there.

"You talk to other people. You go on dates. You're okay," Jenna adds. Now I'm shaking my head, auburn hair flying in front of my face. The tears won't stop coming, and I can barely speak.

"You have no idea how far I am from, 'okay.'" I gasp, clutching at my heart through my shirt. I can't feel it beating. Memories flood my brain. Dancing underneath the stars beside a warm campfire in the chilly air. Wrestling on the floor in the kitchen, peals of laughter erupting from me like lava from a volcano. Driving to the bank, as he serenaded me out of tune.

"I loved him more than anything in the entire world, Jenna. I still do. Just because I don't cry around you doesn't mean my heart isn't breaking. Being around your family is the only thing that lessons the pain."

She doesn't believe me. I can tell by the skeptical look on her pretty face. What's left of my tattered soul rips in my chest, like old fabric carelessly pulled apart.

"I don't know what to do with myself." I admit. She continues studying me, and I try to imagine what she sees. Green eyes turned blue with tears, snot pouring from my nose down onto thin, flat lips. I shift again, wiping angrily at my tears. "He was my home. I wanted a family with him, Jenna. I still do and the kid is a ghost."

She purses her lips, considering my words. Finally, she shakes her head, dismissing my passionate pleas. What's left of the hole in my chest caves inward, like I'm falling into myself, and all that's left is nothingness.

The light beside us fades, until I can't see anything at all, and it's silent. Like the air has gone out of the room, I'm gasping for breath. The tears won't stop now, and as the sobs wreck through my body, I can only picture the expression on Jenna's face.

I wake up crying, and suddenly it clicks. My conversation with Jenna was a dream. As I look around my dark bedroom, eyes adjusting in the blue TV light, I pray. It's been two months since Alex died, and lying by myself in the dark feels cruel. Like I do every time I can't sleep, I pray to God, and then I pray to Alex.