We were never meant to be

Chapter fifty-five

Kayla
"You have everything you need?" Aaron asks concerned. His eyes are searching mine for any sign of discomfort.
"I thought you would pick me up from the airport, not take me there too." I taunt, but he ignores my teasing, impatiently waiting for an answer. "Yes." I reply.
"You have the tickets?"
"Yes."
"The passport?"
"Yepp." I sing.
"And the house keys?"
"On my left pocket."
"Money?"
"On my purse."
"Do y-"
"Aaron." I cut him off. "I'll be fine. I didn't forget anything." Truth is I like when he lists things for me, because it helps me mentally check everything twice, leading in me having a calm state of mind. But right now it's stressing him out and I rarely see him stressed out, so hence my concern. He's been like this lately, on edge. I don't like it. It feels like I did this to him, by bringing all of my problems along with me, by sharing the burden with him. A burden which it's not his to hold. And even though he would kill me for saying this, because he's the most selfless person ever, I can't help but think that if he never met me, he would have been happier.
"Yeah I know. I don't even understand why I'm worried." He sighs running a hand through his fluffy dark hair. Now I want to do the same. "Maybe because I know it'll be emotional." I take his hand in mine and squeeze it in reassurance. His deep blue eyes look into mine. "Promise me cheesecakes." He barely says.
"Promise you what?" I ask. His hand still with mine, where it feels right, where it belongs.
"Promise me you'll call if things get too hard over there today. Promise me you'll come back to me." His pleading holds such desperation, one that shatters my heart.
"I promise." I say before standing on my tip-toes and putting my arms around his neck. His hands go instantly to my waist keeping me there. "Promise me you won't worry too much." I whisper. His face inches away from mine.
"I promise baby." My heart does a cartwheel and I can't fight the smile that forms in my face. He closes the small distance between us and kisses my forehead. And that is one of the purest things I have ever experienced.
"Be safe." He murmurs before letting me go. He then proceeds to settle the bag on my back. "Call me when you land okay?"
I nod barely keeping myself together at his gentle small actions. Sometimes it's the little things like this that make all the difference.
And as I walk away, his eyes following my every move until he can't see me no more, one thing beats sure in my heart. One things becomes clearer and clearer each step further.
I would rip myself apart all over again, rather than being the reason he can't be happy. Because if there someone in this world who deserves all the good of it, it's him.
***
I've always enjoyed reading. It has always helped me escape in another world. A world not like the one I live in. The way you get to travel to a million of different realities, experience a billion of different feelings and learn something new out of it every time. I've always found it fascinating.
Yet there are some books whom leave another feeling behind. I like to call it the overwhelming feeling. Why? Bear with me.
When you start reading a new book that you know you're going to love you get the most exciting feeling. An excitement for this new journey that awaits you with your new favourite book. And in this enchanting journey, you get attached. You get attached with the characters, with the events, with the author's writing, with the book itself. They somehow become a part of you for the time being. You think about them, about their state, you get concerned for them, up to a point where it feels like you are the one experiencing the events. You're so lost in it that the rest of the world fades away. And then the book ends, abruptly. Because you were so caught up on it, you didn't expect it. And not only does this captivating book you now love ends, but it ends differently from the way you thought it would. It takes a dark turn, takes an ugly outcome and shatters your heart to pieces. It hurts so much that you barely get over it, barely swallow your shock, barely look away after a good amount of tries.
Somehow you move from this beautiful book that broke your heart and on to the others. Yet every time you see it in a bookstore, every time it catches your eye on your shelf, every time someone mentions it, all the feelings that that book caused you, come rushing back. Every bit of it. Reaching a point where you can't even pick it up without feeling it. Without feeling overwhelmed. Still when people ask you about it, you easily reply them with 'it's one of my favourite books' associating it with a pang of overwhelming hit in your heart. Because even if it left a sour taste, it made you feel. It made you alive, it still gave you an experience no other book did, it made you grow, it taught you an important lesson, it gave you another perspective of the way you see life, it opened your eyes to a truth you didn't even know existed. And that makes it the best book.
As I stand before the home I grew up in, I can't help but feel the same. I can't help but compare it to this book. My childhood home is overwhelming. It holds both good and bad memories. It makes you want to run into it and at the same time it makes you want to run away from it, in another direction and never look back. Never see it again.
This is the home that I played in. The home that I walked my first steps in, the home where I welcomed my little brother for the first time, the home with the garden that I would run in, play in, fall and get back up in. The home where I would welcome my family and friends. The home that waited for me every day after school.
And at the same time, this is the house I came to after I got raped. This is the house I couldn't escape from days after it. The house with the walls closing in, suffocating me. The house I couldn't get out of, to go and save my cousin. This is the house I found out I was bearing my rapist's child. The house I came to after my cousin's death and then my aunt's. The house I came to when Naomi told me she would leave. The house I would have restless nights in, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, the house I started hating, the house I couldn't look at anymore, the house I came to after millions of helpless therapists, helpless exercises. The house that was placed right in the middle of a city that took so much from me.
This is the house I lost my faith in.
But this is the home I came to after I won my faith back again. This is the home my loved ones still live in. The home my parents met Aaron for the first and welcomed him in our family. The home centred in the same neighbourhood as the one my closed ones grew up in.
This is the home that holds the most overwhelming bittersweet memories.
I may not be able to live here anymore, but it will always be the best home.
Because I might haven gone in broken, but I came out healed.
So with that in heart, mind and soul, I unlock the door and go in, into my room and into my last drawer. There where I've always kept it. There where I've always avoided it. There where it has always held a piece of me. There where I guard the last memory of one of the people I loved most in this world.
And as I pick up the envelope, wrinkled from all the years, my name in his writing staring back at me, the only thought loud enough in my mind is here is where I've been keeping the memory of my cousin alive.
***
My whole body is shaking as I sit down in front of his grave. I haven't been here in five years. Not even later on when my aunt died. Yes their graves are next to each-other, but I didn't sit and visit him. I couldn't. His gravestone is staring back at me and for the life inside of me I can hear it mocking, lying to me.
Aaron James Hart
2002-2017
Beloved son, brother and friend
Never in my life did I imagine this outcome for my brother and never in my life have I felt so guilty about it.
If I had gone there five minutes earlier...
I shake the thought away. No good will come from it. Still with hasty shaking fingers I reach to open the envelope. Heart in throat, body in a fight or flight response, I take a deep breath and take out the letters in it. I can't cry yet. The anxiety skimming my body is making it impossible.
The moment I see his handwriting all over the pages, a chocked cry escapes me.
God, I miss him.
Putting the exhausting feeling aside, I finally take the courage to read my cousin's last words to me.
***
Dear Kayl,
I'm writing this letter for you, because I never had the courage to say the words I'm about to write, to your face.
You are the most amazing person I know. You are kind, selfless, always worrying about others and their needs, their safety before yours, you're a rare gem in this world. Everywhere you would go, light would follow you. Your smile was so contagious that even when I was mad or angry at you, I couldn't help but smile with you. Every room would brighten up at the sight of you. You were so cheery and excited all the time. You were so jumpy, so full of life, of joy. You couldn't stand a sad environment. You would do anything possible to change it and somehow you always succeeded. You would never give up. You were so full with ideas and games. So full with ways to brighten up all of our days. Every time someone was upset, you always had a solution for it. You loved exaggerating stuff and loved telling stories. You loved kids and had the craziest ideas of fun. You were so full of life my Kayl.
Until you weren't. To see your sister and best friend lose the light in her, to lose herself, what makes her her, it's devastating. But to know that you were the one who caused it, it's a hatred toward yourself better left unexplained. I hate myself every second that I breathe. My carelessness, my ignorance and stupidity left room for unspeakable actions. You warned me. You warned me and I didn't listen to you. I left you alone, unprotected, in the dark. Something you never would have done to me. What kind of brother does that make me? What kind of person lets this happen to the people he loves?
Jack might be a piece of shit, but that's all he ever was, that's all he ever wanted to be. I'm worse. Because I had the chance to do something about it, to stop it from happening and I didn't. And since, there hasn't gone a minute by where I didn't want to kill myself.
Because of my action, now there is rapist roaming the roads free. The same one that scarred the shining sparkle out of you. These are consequences that will forever haunt you, ones that came through not fault of yours. And now they need to be payed.
I'm so sorry my Kayl. I'm so sorry. I mean it more than I mean my next breath.
When you read this, I will already be gone.
Do not cry for me sweet Kayl, do not grieve me. I'm going where I deserve. Do not spend another of your precious time on me. Although you are too good to do that. Yet another sign on how much I do not deserve your love.
If you still love me after this, my dear Kayl then please do one thing for me. Move on. Heal. Find yourself again. That light of yours, do not erase it forever. Follow God again. Brighten up again. Please, please do not let this take you down. Live again. Just like before, but even stronger, even more blinding, having survived this.
Find a wonderful man that will treat you like the queen you are, like the way you deserve. Don't settle for less. Build a home, a life with him and do not think of the past, do not let it suck you away.
Marry the guy of your dreams. Maybe it's the one we met at the playground when we were 7 years old. The only crush you ever had. You know the one with the same name as me? I was so angry we lost him that day. I think he was the only guy friend I ever had fun with. Maybe he's the one you're meant to be with. If things were different, who knows, you might had found him and we would be brothers today. Maybe he would have protected you from what I couldn't.
It doesn't matter no more my Kayl. What matters now is for you to heal and live the life you were meant to have. And to not hold any kind of guilt over this. None of this is your fault my Kayl. None. This is a decision I'm now making, because I can't live with myself no more. You would have never been able to prevent it. So go. Live. Move on. Heal.
Tell my parents how much I love them and how I am so sorry for all the trouble I brought them. Tell Naomi to not act like some witch now that I won't be around to scold her for it. Tell May how much I love her and tell her how she deserves someone better to spend her life with. Tell my aunt and uncle how sorry I am for causing this to their daughter. Tell Addie how he can always win now on his videogames. Tell the Carters how much I love them and how sorry I am. And all of you move on. All this trouble that I caused will soon be wiped off. I'll take as much as I can with me. The destructor is leaving. Be happy please, that's all I ask.
I love you my Kayl, always remember that. I was never perfect, but I always loved you. More than life.
Be safe and have a good life. Do not ever raise deditionem!!
                                                   With all my love,
                                                                   Aaron
                                                 
***
My tears started the moment I read 'Dear Kayl' and haven't stopped since. I don't think I've ever cried this much in my life. My shirt is soaked and I'm gasping for air that isn't getting in.
Why did you do this? Why did you do this Aaron?
I wish he would have talked to me. I wish he would have said all of this to my face. I would have told him how I felt. I would have told him that losing him is a wound that will never heal. I would have told him how none of this is his fault. How much I love him, how much his life is worth. How much he is worthy. I would have told him how losing him killed a part of me I'll never be able to take back. I would have stopped him. I would have done something, anything, if he had just told me.
I'm sobbing on the grass surrounding the gravestone. I'm sobbing and screaming at him. The letter somewhere scattered away. I'm trying to get sense of why he did this. I'm trying to understand why he thought that a life without him would be better.
The pain, the absence, the regret, the hurt, the guilt, the hopeless feeling that I can't fix this, that I can't bring him back, all of them gather up at my throat. Bile forms making it impossible to breathe.
One look at my aunt's grave next to Aaron's, that's all it takes. I run to the nearest space of empty grass and throw up. I throw up and I don't stop until my throat is sore, until my legs are numb and can't hold me no more.
After I'm done, I get up with shaky legs and return to the graves. I sit resigned and I feel exhausted. My body is aching from all the pent up tension, my eyes are weary, but somehow tears are still running out of them. My eyelids feel heavy. My head hurts and I don't have the energy for anything. I just want to close my eyes and never open them again. But mostly I want the pain to go away, to leave, to disappear and never come back.
I don't want to experience ever again what it means to love someone who later on becomes a memory.
"Why did you do this Aaron?" I whisper to his grave. My voice hoarse from all the sobbing and throwing up. "Why did you leave me?" The tears that never stopped, come rushing back even quicker. "I loved you so much. Why did you do this to me? To us? To yourself? Why?" I say gasping.
"Because he thought he didn't have a choice." A familiar voice whispers behind me. I turn around immediately only to be met with the eyes of a grieving father and husband.
"Uncle Drew?" I murmur.
"How is my favourite niece doing?" He manages to build a small smile for me. People say I'm the brave one, but they forget what this man has endured. They forget what he had to go through. He lost both his son and the love of his life. It's one thing to lose your son to a natural cause of death, but it's a complete other to lose him by his own hands. And it's another thing to know that your wife, the woman you built your life with, got sick because of it and then lose her too. Then your daughter leaving too, because she can't manage the ghosts of her loved ones around, reminding her of what she lost. No one blames Naomi for leaving, but that too hurt him. Yet he knew that if Naomi didn't leave, she might have turned up like Aaron. So instead of living in that fear, he encouraged her to move on and stay away. Yet he didn't do the same. He still lives there. In the same house his son was found dead, the same house his wife died from the illness the loss caused her. He still breathes there, lives there.
Alone.
I haven't been in that house since Aunt Jen died and I don't plan on going anytime again.
"Kayla are you okay my dear?" He softly asks. I realize I was lost in my walk-down-memory-lane.
"I'm sorry. I...um...I'm o-" I stop mid-sentence. I was about to say okay, but I don't want to lie. Nothing about me screams okay, quite the opposite actually. And he is someone who has seen me in a state worse than this. Someone who loved me through everything. One who got through some of the same battles with me. He is just like me.
He is a survivor.
"No. I'm not. I just read Aaron's letter." I mumble. More tears come rushing back. His eyes widen a bit.
"I thought you read that years ago." He mutters.
"No." I shake my head. "I couldn't." He just nods in understanding and then comes to sit next to me in the grass. He sits in front of aunt Jen's grave, while I'm in front of Aaron's.
None of us say anything for a while. We just stay there dealing with the same pain we've had for years now.
"Naomi came to see me." Uncle Drew then says suddenly.
"She did?" I ask.
"Mhm." He nods. "She stayed two days. I didn't expect it. I'm glad she did though." He says in a hushed voice. His lips barely lifting upwards for a smile. How long has it been since this man truly smiled?
"That's nice that she did." I say staring ahead. Some white bird flying away, in contrast with the grey sky today, catches my eye.
"She told me about the trial. She told me you won." His voice is barely audible.
"We won uncle Drew. We." I tell him. He just takes my hand and holds it in mine.
"Your parents know you're here?"
"No." I shake my head.
"Let's keep it that way then." He mumbles softly. I squeeze his hand thankful.
"Do you think you may be able to let me read the letter?" He asks. His voice has an edge of fear. He's scared I'll say no or maybe he's too afraid to know what the letter entails.
"You can even keep it if you want to." I say reaching for the scattered letters, but he shakes his head no.
"I can't keep it. Too hard. But I do want to read it." He doesn't have to further explain. I know exactly what he means.
Uncle Drew reaches for the letters I hand him and I notice his shaky hands. His whole body has been shaking since the moment we lost Aaron. And then when aunt Jen left, it became more evident. The trauma the body has gone through has led to its own consequences.
He starts reading it and I wait patiently beside him, still holding his hand. Somewhere in the middle of it his shoulder start shaking and he's silently crying. My heart falls into pieces and I start crying with him too. For the same loss. The same pain. The same feeling of helplessness.
By the time he's done and giving me back the letter, I feel like he just aged 10 more years.
I don't know for how long we stay like that, but only when the sun makes its way back home does uncle Drew move again. His left hand reaches to his right jacket pocket and he brings out a small piece of paper. No. Not paper. It's a small photo.
He hands it to me and I look at it. It's a photo of the four of them as a family and me smiling bright in the middle of them. I remember that day. It was back when Aaron and I were 10 years old. Early Summer day. It was aunt Jen's birthday. Aaron, Naomi and I were going to bake her a surprise birthday cake, but she totally knew about it. We were so excited, we had bought everything, found a recipe, we even told uncle Drew to distract aunt Jen so she wouldn't find out. In the end the cake was a disaster and we got very sad, but aunt Jen just laughed, hugged us and baked the best pizza of my life. Afterwards a neighbour took a picture of all of us smiling and hugging together at the garden. If I squint just right I can still see the flour of that disastrous cake on our faces. That is until my eyes blurry from the longing and I have to give him back the picture. But he shocks me with his words.
"Keep it." The way he says it leaves no word for argument. I pull my hand back, holding close my new memory trigger. "Aaron wasn't right for many things my dear. He was sick. We all were. But he was right for one thing." Uncle Drew says before turning to look at me. "You need to move on and be happy. There's no one else who deserves it more than you. And don't worry. I'll keep the memory of them alive. Go live my dear. Do what my son failed to see and do not waste any second feeling guilty about it. Not one."