Say When

T H I R T Y - F I V E

"Face forward."

I winced at the sound of multiple camera shutters. I shifted from one foot to another on uneven ground.

"Okay, now turn to the side."

We all pivoted in unison as if we'd rehearsed this. I stood in front of a sea of cameras. It seemed unnatural for this moment to be captured. Like taking a picture at a funeral. Too private and too filled with grief to want to keep a visual record of. I didn't want this moment captured to reflect on. I knew that looking back at this photo-- with Rita standing next to me beaming and gently rubbing my back to remind me to smile-- I'd only remember that this wasn't at all how I dreamed it would be.

If I had my way, the hand wrapped around my waist resting lightly on my right hip would belong to Yuri, instead of one of David's friends who nicely stepped in to accompany me to prom so I wouldn't be alone. Our dresses shimmered and blew gently in the humid summer wind. Smiling faces. The black stretched Cadillac Escalade behind us. It all screamed celebration. The broken part inside of me screamed back.

It'd only been seven days since I was a trembling mess in Jules' office; my future hanging in the balance. Seven days since I'd seen Yuri's face or heard his voice. He'd banished me to the world where ignored texts and calls go to die. With my phone useless to reach him, I watched his house from my window. I just wanted to see him, to lock eyes with him. Then I'd know whether this could be salvaged or not. But I never did see him come home. I'd watch for hours and then suddenly a light would come on in his room. I figured he was cutting through the alley behind his house and going through the side door. I closed the curtains and cried sloppy tears into my pillow.

I was grieving. And I didn't want to be in a fucking ball gown doing it.

But this year I'd been through a hell of a lot. More than I'd ever imagined and the same part of me that cried out for Yuri also desperately wanted to experience this teenage right of passage and bid farewell to High School by drowning myself in spiked punch. The dress had been purchased, the limo paid for, and a backup date had been arranged so I was going.

Both our Dad's stopped taking pictures but Rita's mother continued to click away. My mom stood at my father's side. A smile plastered on her face, taking the scene in with her own eyes and not through a camera lens. I offered her a weak smile. She winked at me.

I visited her room last night. Prom was weighing heavily on me. This was supposed to be me and Yuri's prom.

How could I do our prom without him?

I needed someone to talk me down; I was seriously considering walking down the block and knocking on Yuri's door at one in the morning. Begging him to speak to me. But then I heard my father and her come back from their 'date' and when I crept up to her room she was still up, sectioning and moisturizing her hair before linking her kinky tresses into neat twists. Her room was clean and smelled of pine floor cleaner. Everything neat and in its place. My dad was nowhere in sight. Likely, she was still holding firm to her decision to take things slowly with him and date all over again. He continued to sleep in the spare bedroom.

I collapsed on her bed and the proverbial dam broke. I jumped from emotion to emotion. From acceptance to defiance. From strength to wafer-thin resolve. I wanted her to tell me what to do to get him back. Give me the blueprint for making it right. I was willing to do whatever it took. She rubbed my hand, seeming to ache for me herself. I waited for her to give wise direction.

But she didn't. Instead, she reminded me that taking responsibility meant taking the consequences as well. She assured me that Yuri knew how I felt about him and that when, and if, he decided to talk to me again, it would be his decision and his decision only. I deflated back into a heap on her bed. But sometime over the next two hours, I reached a place where even though it didn't feel good, I could deal. It'd dipped a toe into the waters of acceptance.