The Love We Left Behind

What have I ever done to you?

Lexi

The rest of my shift went by in a haze.

I held it in for as long as I could; all the pain and the hurt his words elicited in me, I shoved it all down in the same dark corner where I kept all of my agony. It seemed that was all there was to me lately, like I was nothing but pure suffering, and one day soon, that darkness would spill out of my very soul and drown me.

Carson was my whole life at one point. He was everything I had ever wanted. He was my best friend, my saviour, my first love. Tori and I were inseparable, two peas in a pod, and Carson was our third musketeer. I never thought there would come a day when he would look at me with so much hatred, so much disdain. But then again, I never thought I would ever lose Tori either. I had made a home out of both of them, and now I was left drifting in the harsh storms, all by myself.

The second my shift ended, I slipped on my coat and scarf and headed out the door. The bouquet of red roses felt like a bag of stones in my hands, and I contemplated throwing it away for a second. Everything seemed pointless after that conversation, but despite my hurt feelings, I wasn't going to ditch my best friend. Mrs Lee had gone through the trouble of delivering the bouquet herself earlier, and I wasn't trashing her beautiful work. The familiar stone road shimmered under the light rain, the faint sunlight bouncing off different store glass windows. The street was almost empty, everyone no doubt preparing their Thanksgiving dinner with their loving families and their perfect lives. I scoffed bitterly, hastening my steps. I was supposed to have a perfect life, too, but some people were doomed from the beginning.

The small metal gate creaked as I pushed it open, the squeak grating on my nerves. My hands were clenched tightly in fists that the rose stems were almost crushed, and I willed myself to calm down.
The grey headstone stood alone in an empty plot of land, the name ‘Tori O'Connor’ carved into the stone. Mrs O'Connor had explained to me after the funeral that the whole area was a family plot, which was why it was so empty. She had said through gasps and tears that her and Tori’s father were supposed to go first, but instead, they were burying their baby girl before she turned 18.

I wiped the stray tear that ran down my cheek, sitting down in front of the headstone. I placed the roses on top of her grave, and a sad smile replaced the frown I had all day.

“Hey Tori, happy Thanksgiving.”

Shoving my hands inside my coat pockets, I looked beyond the cemetery to where the sun was setting. The light drizzle had stopped, and the clouds had cleared from the sky just in time for the beautiful colors of the sunset to paint the horizon. Streaks of pink, yellow, and orange danced above us, and I laid back next to Tori to watch the scene together.
“You're never going to believe what happened today,” I whispered, afraid to ruin the serenity of the moment. “Carson came by the bookstore. He looks even better than he did all those years ago.” I giggled, picturing Tori rolling her eyes at me from the heavens. “He's taller now, and boy did his muscles double in size. His hair is longer, too, like it was when we were kids.”

I sighed, remembering the feel of his blond locks when he would lie down in my lap and ask me to play with his hair. His blue eyes would soften as soon as he saw me back then, nothing like the icy look he gave me today.
“He hates me, Tori.” I turned around, her smiling face gazing back at me from the picture on her headstone. Forever seventeen, frozen in time with a beautiful smile on her face. The tears ran down my face before I could stop them, my heart squeezing painfully in my ribcage. “I don't even blame him. I hate myself, too. If I hadn't gone to that stupid party, if I had stayed back with you and watched your favorite show instead, none of this would have happened.” A painful sob tore itself out of my chest, followed by a dozen others. The feeling of agony I pushed down earlier at the store came back with a vengeance, demanding to be felt.

I found myself here often after I came back from university. Every chance I had, every free time, I would be in this cemetery, alone, sobbing. It was pathetic, but I didn't know what else to be.

“He thinks I'm useless,” I croaked out, my voice breaking on my own words. “He thinks I'm useless, pathetic, and pitiful. I spent seven years trying to talk to him, to make things right, and he wants nothing to do with me.”
I brought myself up by the elbows, facing her grave once again. Wiping my tears away, I took a few deep breaths to stop the avalanche of bitterness flowing out of me. Digging my nails into my palm, I focused on the pain until it ripped me out of my mournful state. Rising to my feet, I cleaned the dirt off my coat before grabbing my purse.
“I'm sorry I ruined the mood.” I giggled, patting her headstone. “Next time we'll talk about something more fun, I promise. But I have to get home now.”

I waved at my best friend's final resting place, the familiar choking sensation rising in my throat every time I left her behind. Shutting the gate behind me, I hurried home, mentally preparing a list of meals I could make for my mom and I with what I had at home. Darkness enveloped the streets, the rain coming back with a vengeance. I ran the rest of the way back, shoving the keys in the door and treading up the stairs to change out of my wet clothes.

Once I was done, I went into the kitchen, ready to start making dinner when I found my mom already at the stove.

“You shouldn't be up, mom.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my head on her shoulder. I peaked over her tiny frame, watching as she chopped some vegetables and tossed them in a salad bowl.

“Don't worry about me, baby. I feel fine.”
It was the norm for my mom to fluctuate between low energy and high energy days. A week or so after her chemo sessions, she would be up and running, trying to cook or clean or do anything that didn't require lying in bed for days on end. Then, her sessions would come around, and she would not have enough strength to lift her head off the pillow.

“I know you do,” I said, steering her away from the kitchen, “but how about you watch some TV instead while I finish up here?”

She sighed in defeat before turning around in my arms and giving me a hug. “Happy Thanksgiving, my sweet girl.”

I rubbed her back, burying my head in her neck.
“Happy Thanksgiving, mom. I'm sorry we don't have a turkey this year.”

She waved me away, heading into the living room. “I never liked the taste anyway.”

I knew she was lying for my benefit, and it made me feel even worse. Between driving her to the hospital and trying to keep my job at the store, I didn't have the time to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. Not that I could afford one anyway.
I was about to start on some soup when the bell rang. I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel, heading to the door. I wasn't expecting any guests. We didn't get many visitors these days, and a sense of dread slowly rose to my chest.

I opened the door, immediately regretting my decision not to look through the peephole.
Right there, on my front porch, stood the last person I wanted to see tonight. Familiar blue eyes stared daggers into my soul, a cruel smirk on his lips.

Carson.