w e e k 1 8 , 1 9 , 2 0 : c h r y s a n t h e m u m s
Juliet didn't come by the next Saturday.
I was sad, of course—beyond sad, really, since after what had happened the previous week, I felt more attached to her than I had before. I decided though, that it was probably just a family matter that she would explain to me when we talked on the phone that night. The only problem was, when I called her phone on Saturday night, she didn't pick up. Instead, it went straight to voicemail on the second ring, and when I called back a little while later, it went to voicemail on the first ring.
I wasn't sure what was going on. I had talked to Juliet just two nights before and everything had seemed fine. It didn't make any sense.
Okay...so maybe I'm exaggerating a little when I say everything had seemed fine, because in all honesty, it hadn't.
It wasn't anything crazy, but as we spoke on the phone, I could tell just from the sound of Juliet's voice that something was bugging her. I had asked her about it but she said it was nothing, and now, as I sat at the dining table waiting for her to arrive, I found myself growing increasingly worried with each passing second. I hated myself for not pressing the matter. For not expressing to Juliet in no uncertain terms that I cared—that I wanted her to share her struggles with me, even when it was hard.
I had assumed that I would be seeing her in two days and so I figured it would be better to talk about the difficult stuff in person. And as usual, whenever I made an assumption, it came back to bite me in the arse.
I asked Mum if she had seen Juliet throughout the week, and she told me that Juliet had come by for the first part of the week, but on Thursday—the last day I'd spoken to her—she'd stopped showing up. It wasn't like her, and although Mum was trying to hide it, I could see the concern etched into her forehead as she asked me whether I'd heard from Juliet since.
I said that I hadn't and Mum mumbled something under her breath about being sure J would show up again come Monday.
Come Monday, Juliet did not show up.
I stayed home from school that day, giving Mum some excuse about feeling under the weather. I didn't think she would actually buy it, but when she came to my bedroom to check on me in the morning, she seemed fully convinced I was sick. I didn't understand why until I passed by a mirror and saw what a mess I looked like. My face was puffy, my eyes were bloodshot, and my nose was red as a tomato.
Mum made me some chicken noodle soup, and I ate it at the dining table, staring out the window as I tried to will Juliet to my house.
By the time Mum was leaving for work, she was surprised to see that Juliet still hadn't arrived. On the weekdays, Juliet usually got to our house long before Mum left, so this was way out of the ordinary. Mum decided to ring her phone for good measure, but her call went to voicemail on the first ring, and as she left the house that day, I could see the cloud of worry following closely at her tail.
I spent the day back and forth between my bed and the window, feeling a kind of low that I hadn't felt in a while. I wasn't sure what was up with Juliet, but I knew it couldn't have been good if she'd gone this long without even a text to say hi.
I went to school the next day, deciding it was better to be miserable out there where I actually had things to do than at home where there was nothing to distract me from it. Where every room I turned to reminded me of her. And by the time the weekend rolled around again, I found myself physically itching to see her. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I damn near couldn't think. I just wanted to see her. To be sure that she was okay.
That Saturday, Juliet was a no-show again. Mum told me that she hadn't come by all week, and that was when I began to really worry. Before I just thought that maybe something was going on at home and she was too occupied to carry on with her regular schedule, but two whole weeks? Now I began to wonder if something bigger was wrong. If Juliet was even safe.
And as thoughts of her safety began to flood my mind, I realized just how little I really knew about Juliet. I knew her name and her other name, sure, but that was it. I didn't know where she lived, I didn't know her brother's name, I didn't even know who her flower supplier was. There was no way for me to even begin to start looking for her if I wanted to. And I did want to. I wanted to show up wherever she was and let her know that I was committed to her—to this. No matter what happened.
It was on the third week of Juliet's absence that I began to wonder if maybe she wasn't in trouble. If maybe, she'd just decided to stop coming to Winter's Grove so that she could have a clean break from me.
I found myself thinking about our last encounter all those weeks ago. The way she'd looked at me as she said goodbye. As though she actually wouldn't be seeing me again. I thought about that last conversation we'd had on the phone a few days later. How everything she'd said had seemed so ominous.
She had called me late at night—later than we usually spoke—waking me up out of my sleep with a question:
"Miles, if today was your last day with me, what's something you would want me to know?"
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I had sat up in my bed, confused. I was half sure I was having a fever dream until Juliet spoke again.
"Oh no, did I wake you up?" she asked, and I smiled. I could just see the face she must've been making—eyes wider than the ocean, mouth parted into a small 'o'. "Oh God, I'm sorry I just—"
"No, no, it's okay," I said, chuckling softly. "I wasn't really sleeping anyway. I think I needed to hear your voice first."
"Oh," she said. "Well good. Then you're in luck."
"Don't I know it."
The line was silent for a few seconds until I spoke again.
"Ever since the first time I saw you, I knew you'd be the death of me, Juliet."
"What?"
"I'm answering your question."
"Oh." There was a pause, and I held my breath, only exhaling once I heard the sound of Juliet's laugh. "Wow, Miles," she said, a smile in her voice. "The death of you? That's intense."
"I know," I said. "But it's true. I fell in love with you before I ever even touched you, and I'd want you to know that. I'd also want you to know that you're...hmm...I don't even know, you're like a blinding light within a sea of darkness. You give me hope for the future. Our future." Plus, ever since we had sex, I can't even think about you without getting a stiffy. It's kind of a problem.
Juliet didn't say anything for a moment, and I wondered what she was thinking. If maybe I had said too much too soon. But what kind of answer could she have expected, dropping a question like that on me? She must've wanted to hear the truth—to get to the real meat of things.
"Mind my asking what brought on the question?" I finally said, slicing through the silence between us. "It's kind of a strange thing to ask. Not that I minded or anything, but...yeah."
I heard Juliet's heavy breathing from the other end of the line, and the sound of it made every hair on my body stand at attention.
"I don't know," she finally said. "I guess I've just been thinking about things...contemplating...looking for some clarity."
"Did I give you any?" I asked.
"No," she said. "But it's not your fault. I don't think I'm asking the right questions. I don't think I've figured out what those are yet."
"Hmm." I thought about that for a moment. "Okay," I said. "Well if it was your last day with me, what would you want me to know?"
Juliet laughed. "Miles, I could fill a whole book with all the things I want to tell you."
I smiled. "Well good thing you don't have to, cause I'm right here and we can take as much time as we need. We can go chapter by chapter until we get through it all."
The line remained silent for a little bit too long, and just as I was about to ask Juliet if she was still there, she spoke.
"Miles," she said, her voice sounding a lot more pained than it had only seconds ago. The sound of it scared away any lingering remnants of sleep I still had. "Miles, I'm...I need to..."
"Juliet, what is it?" I asked, worry oozing from my voice. "You need to what?"
She took a deep breath. "Nothing," she said. "I just—thank you for always answering when I call. I really do love you."
I sat on my bed, replaying that conversation in my mind, over and over again, wondering if it was something I said. If I really was the reason that Juliet was now gone. I had known something was wrong but I didn't press the matter. I just let it go as though the feelings of the woman I love weren't my concern.
God. How is it that I managed to become more and more of a dipstick with each passing day? I'd spent two weeks convincing myself that Juliet was sick or dead in a ditch somewhere, when the reality was that she just wasn't that into me. It was clear as day.
At first, maybe she thought I was cool, but she'd gotten to know me better and quickly realized that I was just as boring as I seemed. I don't know why I'd ever shot so far out of my league. As though a guy like me could really ever be enough for a girl like her.
And just as I was beginning to fall headfirst into a dangerous rabbit hole of worry and self-loathing, the doorbell rang. I knew that Mum was still at Stacy's art showcase, and so it couldn't have been her, which meant...
I jumped up from my bed, bounding down the stairs and nearly falling flat on my bum as I scrambled to the door and threw it open. I was heaving as I prepared myself to, once again, lay eyes on the girl I loved, but it wasn't her.
I opened the door and, instead, found a man that clearly wasn't Juliet, but that looked enough like her to make me take pause.
The man had the same golden-brown skin as Juliet, the same dusty brown hair that blended so seamlessly into skin that, at first glance, I thought he was bald. He had the same little frame as her, the same wide eyes—just a little too far apart—and he even held a bouquet of flowers in his hands. A bouquet that, as soon as I laid eyes on, I knew Juliet had arranged.
The man had a sad, sullen energy surrounding him. And a contagious one at that. The longer I stood before him, the more I found my shoulders slumping, my head growing heavy.
"G'day," the man said. "Are you Miles Lee?" And as soon as I heard his voice, I knew who he was. He sounded too much like her. The way he spoke—the way he said 'Miles Lee,' like he'd never heard either of those names before.
I nodded silently, not sure what to even say. What was Juliet's brother doing here? Did something happen to her? Maybe she sent him to break up with me so she wouldn't have to do it herself.
"I'm Koen," he said. "I think you know my sister Juliet, right?"
I nodded again, and Koen extended his arms, handing me an envelope and the bouquet of flowers that he held.
"Here," he said. "Juliet wanted me to give these to you." And something about the look in his eyes made my bones grow cold.
"Where is she?" I asked, not taking the things Koen was handing to me. As though if I were stubborn enough, I could change what we both already knew was true.
"Miles..." Koen's voice cracked, and when he looked up and met my eyes once more, I knew. "Juliet passed away," Koen whispered, tears brimming at his eyes as he spoke. "Nine days ago."
I fell to my knees as a sound that I couldn't comprehend escaped my lips, echoing in the empty streets around us.
"She wanted me to give you these," Koen repeated, handing the flowers and the envelope to me once more. "She wrote you a letter, and these flowers are from her funeral arrangement. Chrysanthemums."
I could hear Koen talking, but I couldn't understand any of the words he was saying. My brain was broken.
After a while of me not reaching out to accept the flowers and the letter, Koen placed them both down on the mat in front of me, and the sight of it gave me an intense déjà vu. I was transported back to a few months prior, when Juliet had done the same after I refused to accept a sunflower from her.
I crumpled to the ground, not caring how it must've looked to this man that I'd just met. I couldn't hold myself up and longer, I didn't have the strength.
I could see both the empathy and the frustration battling in Koen's eyes as he watched me. A small part of me felt shitty for making him have to witness me falling apart when he was probably trying so hard not to do the same. He'd just lost his sister after all. As hard as it was on me, I knew it was harder on him. But still, the rest of me didn't care. Didn't care about anything except for the growing void within myself that I feared would keep chipping away at my soul until the day I, too, died.
Until the day I got to reunite with Juliet.
Koen left silently, not looking back at me as he exited my house and then exited Winter's Grove, leaving me on my porch, on my knees, with my head to the ground as tears streamed down my face and I screamed into the abyss.
"FUCK!" I yelled. At nobody, at everybody, at God himself. "FUCK! I just got her! JUST! I just..." My cries turned into a blubbering and incoherent mess as I started sobbing uncontrollably. My chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself.
I'd wanted this girl for months and I just got her and now she's dead??? What kind of sick and twisted game was that?
I wanted to be mad at Juliet, at Koen, at Mum, at Ben, at the whole world, but really, the only person I was mad at was myself.
She'd been coming by my house for over a year. Over a goddamn YEAR! We could've had so much time together, but I was too stubborn to just answer the damn door.
Why didn't I just answer the bloody door?
~
Hey Romeo,
If you're reading this, then...well, you already know. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I'm sorry our story had to end like this. I've been sick for a while, and I know I should've told you, but I just couldn't. I wanted to enjoy the time we had together until the very last minute, and I know we wouldn't have been able to create such beautiful memories if you'd known. I'm so sorry, Miles. I'm so sorry.
I could apologize forever, but I'm honestly not writing this letter to apologize to you; I'm writing it to tell you something important, Miles. I'm writing this to tell you that I love you. And that part of the reason why I love you is because you're so real. A lot of shit in this life is fake, but not you. You are yourself with every word, every look, and I fell in love with that. Yeah you're weird, but who doesn't like a little weird? I know I do.
I also love how kind you are, how loving you are, how you trusted me so quickly, and gave yourself to me so completely. I loved that.
I want you to know that you're completely whole on your own, Miles. You were whole before you met me and you'll be whole after I'm gone, even though it may take a while for you to realize it.
I don't want my death to be a sad thing, please. I died happy, Miles. I died loved. And I'm so grateful for it. So grateful for you. You need to know that you gave me the best parting gift that you possibly could have, so please, please don't be sad. Even when I'm gone, I'll still be with you. In your heart, in your memories...
I wish we'd had more time, but I'm still grateful for the little we had. Grateful for how quickly and naturally our relationship grew. How I could always be myself around you.
There's so much that I could say, but I'm not sure any of it would make a difference. At the end of the day, I'm still dead, and I know it hurts. Thinking about having to leave you even in this moment hurts so bloody much, Miles. I wish I could take you with me. Put you into my pocket and carry you with me to the afterlife.
And I hope you were wrong about that. About the afterlife.
I hope that in the end, I don't get what I deserve, but that I get even more. Like in life. I didn't deserve so much of the love I got, but I got it anyway. I didn't deserve you, but I got you anyway. And it seems like the things I didn't deserve are the things that changed my life the most. I hope that death is the same. That I get everything I'm undeserving of, that I'm able to still check in on you from time to time, make sure you're okay.
I wish we'd had more time. I know I already said that, but it's true. I wish I'd had more time with you—time to explore you. Your heart, your mind, your body. Especially your body... You're so sexy, Miles, and I definitely didn't get enough of that, but it's okay. I fantasised about you enough to last me a lifetime. Enough to tide me over into the next life, so thank you. Thank you for everything. For loving me, for taking your time with me, for seeing the beauty in me, for being gentle with me. Thank you, Miles. You don't know the kind of peace you gave my soul. You couldn't even begin to understand how much you've done for me. You created an urgency within me. An urgency to love you and to really experience life in every moment.
Thank Miss Lee for me too. She was like the mother figure I'd always wished I had. Please tell her that I was thinking of her in my last days. That I care deeply about her.
I miss you already. I wish it didn't have to end like this, I really do. And I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. It was selfish of me, but I needed to be selfish just one last time, so that I could go peacefully.
I still love you. I always will. Even after I die, I'll love you, Miles. And I wish I could kiss your cute little face one last time, but I can't. So instead, I'll kiss this paper, and after you've read it, I want you to kiss it too. For me. Right on the x.
X
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