It took me a little too long to realize that on the fair's night, as Yann confessed his gratefulness to me, that he was actually saying goodbye. Of course, I didn't get it until after he left. It just hit me in the face the moment we entered his house – my old house – and it was empty. As empty as my heart.
That night, the second the realization slapped me hard in the face, I sank to my knees. It was suddenly too much to stay up on only two legs. I felt like I needed a dozen more to support me and even then, I'm not sure a dozen would have been enough.
I thought that night, as I begged him not to leave, was the night I lost Yann. But I was wrong. I had lost him way before that and I didn't even know it. We hadn't spoken after that, had barely looked at each other for the few more days he was still there.
I still remember as if it was yesterday as I heard the pounding on the door, excited and apprehensive at the same time, thinking it was him, thinking he was coming back to me. I still can see Ellie's tears and feel Will's anger. I still can feel my own heart shattering. It still shatters every day at the thought of him and I wonder how come there's anything left to be shattered when it's been breaking every single day for three months now.
It was three months ago yet it feels like yesterday. Heck, it feels like today. It all hits me with the same force, gets me out of breath, squeezes my heart in my chest and leaves me panting. The tears are suddenly there, and it's like they and I have an unspoken agreement, like a rendezvous at the precise second when my throat closes. I can't swallow, I can't breathe. It always feels like I am suffocating, like I am dying.
I thought I would be over it, over him but each day, I'm proved that I am not there yet. I try to fight it back, I do. But when it comes, it takes over my whole being, it consumes me till all that's left of me is a flimsy shell holding memories that are long gone, memories that probably didn't mean anything.
Now three months later, all I'm left with are those last memories of us together. That last kiss. It's what I hold on to the most, the tightest. I try not to think of that night when we'd almost made love, where I almost gave myself to him but pulled back, of how we'd fallen asleep next to each other, of his face the next morning, his smile, his lips, his hair. I try to push it all away but sometimes, the memories come assaulting me and I am just too weak to fight them, too hurt.
Like right now.
"Tracy!" Lucy calls behind the bathroom door. "Come on, get out. I'm hungry! We're waiting for you."
I lift my head to the mirror and look back at my reflection. I recoil in disgust, hating the face staring back at me. I wipe the tears away before they can come falling and pinch my cheeks to try and bring some color back to my face. I look a little better and hopefully, no one at the table will ask questions.
As I step into the dining room, my mom says, "Finally."
I roll my eyes at her and smile, "Gee, a girl can't even go pee," I complain and sit down. Of course, I fool my mother and Lucy, but not my dad and Ollie who give me quizzical looks.
We all hold hands around the table and say our blessings. Once the prayer is over, I can see Lucy grinning happily at the roasted turkey before her. It's larger than her head and it makes me laugh a little as I can barely see her over the golden meat. My sadness is momentarily forgotten at the sight of her, at her innocent little face.
"What?" She asks, confused.
I laugh a little more and manage to say in-between bouts, "Your head is just so small." She pouts, thinking I'm making fun of her. "I'm not making fun of you, Lu. You're just so tiny and adorable."
"I'm not tiny," she scoffs with a frown. "I'm a big girl."
Next to me, Oliver laughs and agrees with my little sister to placate her. "Tracy's wrong, Lu. You are a very, very big girl," he says and she smiles brightly at him.
I roll my eyes at him, knowing he has a soft spot for Lucy. She could ask him the moon and he'd go there and bring it back to her.
"Thanks, Ollie," she says.
Soon, our Thanksgiving dinner begins and chatter fills the dining room as we pass dishes around the table. Like every year, my heart swells at the sight of Ollie here with us, an added member of the family for five years now. No, a member of the family, period. He belongs there, with us, like a son to my parents and like a brother to Lucy and me. I wouldn't have it any other way.
He starts talking about his first year of pursuing a master's degree and we all listen, rapt, as he talks about what can be done with artificial intelligence. His eyes are alight with excitement, so different from the dull and lifeless ones that stared back at me that day I bumped into him. His back is no longer hunched like he's bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders and now he's got a more stately demeanor. Yes, he's a different person, a happier person. He just needed a family.
"So," Ollie says once he's done talking about computer science and other things related, "you're gonna apply for internships this year?" He asks me.
I nod, happy as I think of the places I've selected for my internship. "Yes, figured it would look good on my résumé," I say. "Plus, I'm saving to try and see if Ellie and I can afford a place next year."
Ollie smiles, obviously proud of me. "That's great. You're looking for one in NYC or out of the city as well?"
"Mostly in the city, I don't feel like taking the train or anything. It's tiring."
"I thought we could go back to Harlem next year."
My head snaps at Lucy who's pouting before me, a pleading look on her face upon hearing my plans. As I look at her, I want to promise her we can go. It's the first thought that crosses my mind. Of course we can go. That's because no matter how annoying she can be, I'd do anything to put a smile on Lu's face, to see her happy. But Harlem is full of ghosts to me. Or rather, of a ghost. I can't go back there, can't bear to be reminded of it all.
My dad – along with Ollie – notices my hesitation and he replies to Lucy for me, "Not next year," he says soothingly. "You heard your sister has an internship."
Lucy keeps pouting, obviously disappointed. She pokes her food around listlessly on her plate and remains quiet for a moment before our dad cheers her back up with the promise of pizza every week until the end of the year. It's not much – there's only a few weeks left – but it's enough to Lucy. She soon turns into a radio as she talks nonstop about the different pizza she'll have every week and I'm relieved to see that her cheerfulness is back.
After dinner, my family congregates in front of the TV but I have an inexplicable headache and all I want to do is go lie down. Climbing up the stairs, I pass my bedroom – which is always Ollie's for the holidays – and go to Lucy's room which I share with her meanwhile. Gracelessly, I let myself fall on the bed and pull the covers over me.
I take my phone and think of calling either Ellie or Will but they must be enjoying Thanksgiving with their families now so I only leave them a message, asking them how the holidays are going so far. I put the phone on the bedside table and close my eyes, desperate for sleep to claim me.
However, my head hasn't been on the pillow for five seconds that the door to the room opens. Soft footsteps echo behind me and I can picture Lucy standing in the middle of the doorway, about to throw her heavy self on me.
"Lucy," I say in exasperation, "out."
I expect her to reply with, it's my room, but those are not the words I hear. It's not even Lucy's voice that speaks. "I know you're not alright."
Ollie.
I keep my eyes closed and sigh into the bed. "Go away, Oliver."
I hear his footsteps getting closer and I curse into the pillow. Soon, the bed dips as he sits on it and I feel his hands on my face. "Does it have anything to do with what happened Harlem?"
My eyes snap open at that. "What do you mean what happened in Harlem? What do you know?" I ask, suspicious.
He shrugs. "Not much, you didn't say anything that first time you called," he says and I'm reminded of that first time when I called him after arriving.
"Wait," I say when a detail comes back to me, "I told you it was mom."
Ollie rolls his eyes at me. "Did you really expect me to believe that?" When I don't answer as there's no point in lying anymore, he says, "What is it?"
I consider telling him to back off, to let it go but I know he won't. He will pry it out of me at some point during the days to come so I might as well get it over with.
"Yann," I say. "I met him during the summer."
When I keep quiet there, Ollie gives me an annoyed face. "And you expect me to magically guess what happened next?"
I smile at the sarcasm in his voice. "Maybe," I tease. He remains serious however and I sigh, "I fell in love and he left. End of the story."
Ollie shakes his head at me and climbs into bed with me, under the covers and stares at me intently. "I wasn't asking for the short version," he says.
I smile at him, smile at this friend who loves me unconditionally and – even though I suspect he loves Lucy more than me – would do anything for me. I think of how available he is, how comforting his words always are, how his empathy always makes me feel like I'm not the only one hurting as if he's sharing the burden with me. Yes, Ollie is a true friend, the rare kind and I'm grateful to have him in my life.
So I launch into the story. I don't leave out any details. I talk of the relationship between Yann and me from the very beginning to the very end. How we strongly disliked each other, how he reminded me of Oliver, how I vowed to look past the mask, how I started caring at first, then how I started caring a little too much to the point where I couldn't make the difference between friendly feelings and romantic feelings.
When I get to that one special night, I consider skipping it but I don't. It's one of the most meaningful moments I spent with Yann, not because of our endless kissing, but because it was the first time he really opened up to me. It was the first time our souls really connected.
Then I get to the most difficult part. The part where I realized he was gone. It's the end of the story, it doesn't take that much time to tell it, it doesn't take that many words to explain it but somehow, it's the one that hurts the most.
All the while, Ollie stays perched up on his elbow, looking at me intently, never interrupting once. He's a good listener, there's no doubt to that. He smiles when I smile because he's happy that I'm happy, then he frowns when I frown because I'm sad. And when tears stream down my face without my consent at the end of my story, tears are shining in his own eyes.
Without any warning, he reaches across the bed to me and pulls me to him. Defeated, I let my head rest on his chest and sob quietly in his shirt. I grip it tightly between my fists, wrinkling the material, grasping it so tightly I might tear it but Ollie doesn't seem to mind. He holds me even closer, even tighter and it feels like the tears are being squeezed out of me, like a sponge full of water being wrung out. It feels awful but oddly relieving. I feel like I'm letting all the hurt out. And I tell myself that one day I won't cry anymore, one day, all the pain will be out.
But really, I've been crying for three months now. Who knows how much sorrow there's still left?
I don't know how long it is until I finally calm down. My clogged up throat seems to open again and the air travels more easily from my nose to my trachea, fewer tears come coming down and I sniffle less frequently. Better, I'm doing better. Or relatively so.
Even so, I stay in Ollie's arms and let him hold me. His grip on me doesn't lessen and I stay safely buried there. His hands are brushing up and down my arms, soothing and comforting.
"If he loves you, he'll come back," Oliver says when I've gone completely quiet.
I shake my head against him. "He doesn't love me."
"For his sake, I hope he does." I laugh a little at the threat in his words. I can't imagine nice little Ollie beating someone up and I tell him so. "You'd be surprised at what I'd do for you, T."
I smile up at him and he gazes down at me with affection. "Oh, really?" I tease.
He nods, solemn. "Yes." He says, "Really."
I laugh again and say, "Don't you have another damsel in distress to save?" At my words, he looks away and blushes. My eyes widen and I ask, "You do?"
"No, I don't." When I give him a poker face, he sighs. "We're just talking and she's nice."
I punch his shoulder. "You never said anything."
"That's because I don't..."
He doesn't need to finish it. I know, He doesn't want to get his hopes high and have her walk away. He doesn't want to be abandoned again.
"But if you never try, you'll never know," I sing Coldplay's Fix You.
Ollie rolls his eyes, knowing I am obsessed with this group. "Thanks for the advice, Tracy."
When I notice he's about to close off – he still does that sometimes once in a while – I say, "I'm serious, Ollie. Not everyone you meet is going to stay. But remember that I stayed, Mom and Dad did, Lucy did. And we're not going anywhere. You have to try. Just don't let yourself fall too deep and too quickly."
He sends me a wan smile, "You're talking about yourself here, aren't you?"
I shrug and look away. I did fall too deep and too quickly. "Don't worry, I've learned my lesson," I tell him with the strongest smile I can muster up.
He's about to say something when Lucy comes bursting into the room. "Tracy!" She screams. "Yann's on TV!"
At his name, my heart skips a beat and I don't hear the rest of what she says. "Yann?"
The word comes out dreamy, and it almost sounds as if someone else said it for I don't recognize my own voice.
"Yes," Lucy says impatiently. "Hurry up!"
Then at last, what she's said sinks in and I frown in confusion. "On TV? What do you mean on TV?"
She doesn't answer and only tugs me violently out of the bed as she grabs my hands. I tumble out of the sheets behind her and try to keep up with her fast pace.
"You're not making any sense," I tell her as I try not to miss any staircase. "Jeez, slow down, Lucy!" I exclaim when I almost fall face first at the bottom of the stairs.
We both stumble into the living room, Ollie behind us. My parents are sitting on the couch, my mother facing the TV but my father, looking at me. At last, I tear my gaze away from them and look at the TV screen.
The anchorman is talking about effervescence and happiness and other litany of words I don't really pay attention to. He soon turns into a small square at the top of the screen and a bigger image appears. I can see people running out of a car and into a house as cameras flash incessantly and journalists throw questions at them, pointing their microphones in hopes of an answer.
I look at the people, seeing a couple sheltered by an army of bodyguards. The circle is so tightly kept that it's hard to really see the faces of the people who are being protected by those large bodyguards. They're shorter and almost impossible to spot if it wasn't for the top of their heads sticking out a little. But one person is taller than the rest, one head sticks out more than the other heads.
I don't need to see his face. I can recognize that hair and that beard anywhere. The way he tucks the locks behind his ears as the wind blows them into his face.
My knees buckle and I brace myself against the couch, seeking immediate support before I fall to the floor. And as I recognize him, it feels like there's a storm raging on inside of me suddenly, a whirlwind of emotions, a tornado, wild and merciless.
Yann.
He's walking away, out of the cameras' reach, close to those bulky men in black. My eyes catch the face of someone next to him and I gasp in confusion. It's Mrs. Badred, and I suppose the man next to her is her husband. It's the rich couple who has been looking for their son, Kaeleb, for the past four years.
I don't get it. What would Yann be doing with them?
That's when I finally look at the bottom of the TV. The headline says, The Badred Son Returns.
Despite my emotions and sudden lightheadedness, I frown. Badred son? No, it can't be. Yann isn't the Badred son. Immediately, my heart goes back down in my chest as I realize I've gotten worked up for nothing. It's not Yann. Lucy was wrong. I was wrong.
Then, for a fleeting second, the man turns his face to the camera before disappearing and my breath catches again in my throat. Any doubts I had a nanosecond ago vanish the second my eyes land on his features.
It is Yann.
And it finally dawns upon me.
Kaeleb Yann Badred.
•••
Another weekly update! Hopefully I stay on track until the end of 2019 :)
Gahhh, did anyone suspect? I didn't really give any hints lol but did any of you expect that? Excited to see what's gonna happen next (even though it's my story lol) :)
Much love to all of you guys ❤️