On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Twenty - "Side Effects"

I’d dreamt it; I’d hoped for it. It was mine. It wasn’t gone.

She let out a breath and ran her hand along my back, as I felt the tears come back. Honestly, I was starting to repulse even myself.

“You were right. All good things come to an end; this is ours.”

“It can’t be over,” I said, replying Fitch a little too late. Our end.  

“Are you sure he meant it like that?” Sarah asked. “Maybe he just wanted a break. Maybe it was too hard to see you all the time.”

“It’s too hard, and you should probably focus on you right now.”

I shrugged again, searching for the words. It was hard, but I would have done it forever if I had to.

And suddenly, realization dawned. That was the point. I would have done it forever; he didn’t want that anymore. Forever was over, so there was no point. I could see his logic; I’d always come first with him, no matter what. But I just thought – I know it’s cheesy – I just thought that love defied logic.

It had to, because me, the scarred, flinching, runaway girl, could not have found love amidst the rubble of a waning life. It was illogical.

“You’ll be fine,” she said softly.

I knew that. That much I knew; I’d be fine. I was a resilient person; somehow, I’d always ended up fine. But with Fitch, I was more than fine, more than okay; I was great.

“That’s how I like myself; with him,” I heard myself say.

“Maybe that’s it then.”

That was it.

“ . . .You should probably focus on you right now.”

Sarah continued, “Discover yourself without him, while I try to get him out faster, so that you might be able to work it out. You never know what you’ll find if you don’t look.”

“Don’t wait for me. We were great, but there’s somebody better out there for you.”

I was so confused. Of course there wasn’t. There was the one person for everyone – mine was Fitch. There was no one else.

I stared down at my hands; I’d folded the square about seven times and it was now tight in the palm of my hand. I looked up, wiping my eyes and muttered, “Thank you.”

I was feeling more pathetic by the minute. Maybe Fitch had done the right thing – cutting me loose.

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry too, I thought to myself. I wasn’t sure why, but I was just sorry.

Sarah smiled, “Come on. I’ve got something for you.” She pulled me up and along behind her as we walked out into the kitchen. She opened the freezer and pulled out eight white tubs.

I frowned, “What’s this?”

“Ice-cream. The best solution to heartbreak, and we’re going to finish every last one while we sit in front of the most bearable cheesy movies. From ‘The Notebook’ to ‘P.S. I Love You’ to ‘Pretty Woman.’ So, grab four, without looking at the flavors, and we’ll make an evening out of it.”

I smiled. Were there people who were generally this nice? Or was it just because she was . . . well, my biological mother? I kept forgetting that. She was my . . . mother.

She put them all on a tray, and grabbed a few spoons and led me to the living room.

“We’re eating on the couch?” I asked warily. She had a huge aversion to eating anywhere that wasn’t the table or the kitchen island.