Talania - a Trip Down Memory Lane... (12 page)

My memories are here! I start struggling with my keys, finally managing to get the door open. I drop my bag in the doorway to retrieve my boxes of memories. I drag all the boxes to the family room and notice I left the front door open. I walk over, shutting it.

Wine…that is exactly what I need; wine or some kind of alcohol. I kick off my shoes and head to the kitchen. I spot the wine fridge first thing and thankfully, it is full of what I am looking for. I open the door, grab the first bottle my fingers touch, and slam the door shut. I snag a wine glass hanging upside down next to the fridge. I open drawer after drawer until I find a corkscrew.

I don’t even know where they keep the damn corkscrew!

Making it back to the family room, I stop hugging the bottle of wine tightly to my chest. I want this, right? I want these memories.

Why? Why am I so confused? I stare at all these boxes, not knowing what to do with them. Falling to the floor on my knees with tears streaming down my face, I pop the cork on the wine, but stop before I pour it into a glass.

Why do I need a glass? I start drinking it straight out of the bottle.

After guzzling half the bottle, I set it on the table beside me. On my knees, I inch myself closer to the boxes. Taking a closer look at the box in front of me, I notice my handwriting. What the hell?

It is labeled with Tristan's name. I unfold the flaps. Right on top of everything in this box is an envelope addressed to myself in my handwriting. I open the envelope slowly and begin to read.

If you are reading this, then that means you have completely lost all of your memories in this box. As I write this, I still remember some things, a lot of things actually, but with the surgery coming up I am not taking risks. The doctors informed us that it would be best to pack up everything so I won't dwell on these things during my time of healing. The date today is September 16, 2008. I left Tristan and the Monroes on August 16, 2008. This all happened in a very short period of a time, in only one month! One month was all it took for the migraines, blurred vision and memory loss to start kicking in. The surgery I am having is in the part of my brain that holds memories. The tumor is laying on top of that part. I am trying to keep up with the medical terms. It’s no use. I am already withering away into nothing. I am so weak. Mom said she would let Tristan and the Monroes know before Thanksgiving. That is when I am supposed to see Tristan again.

I can’t even imagine what he is going to be like when I don’t return his phone calls, texts, emails or letters. This is going to rip his heart out. Actually, I am sure it has already been ripped out because I have been ignoring him. Tristan would want me to listen to my parents and my doctors and do what is best for me. Tristan always wants what is best for me. He always puts me first. I love him. What I feel for him is not some silly childish love. I love him with everything I am. That is why these boxes are going to be labeled. If one day I happen to run into him again and I can’t remember anything that has happened then I want backup. I am also putting a letter in here for him as well. I am telling you Self, you want this! You want to remember these years! DO IT!

I gasp. It is like my sixteen year old self knew exactly what I was going to go through. I guess it is true when they say nobody knows you better than you know yourself. I pick up Tristan’s letter and put it to the side. I don’t want to read it. It is for him. I gulp some more wine before digging into the box when I hear my doorbell. My fingers shake. I already know who it is before I get up.

I take a deep breath for encouragement. My bottle of wine and I get up to go let him in.

I unlock the dead bolt, leaning my head on the door for another breath, and open it all the way before walking back into the family room. I don’t want to look at him just yet. I keep my eyes to the floor the entire time. His look. His touch. His voice. Everything about him is too intense right now.

I feel his presence behind me. I go to take a sip of my wine and notice that it’s all gone. “Shit.” I pick up Tristan’s letter and hand it to him without looking. Once I feel his hand’s weight on the envelope, I leave to get more wine. We are so going to need it.

“She’s not answering my calls,” I throw my phone, yelling.

Drake looks up at me, shaking his head, letting me know that she isn’t answering his calls either.

“I don’t understand Drake. This is not like Ev. She doesn’t just disappear. Even her parents aren’t answering their phone.”

My whole body is shaking. It’s been months since I’ve heard anything from her. The Laguna house is packed like they just up and left, going back home from vacation. Where the hell are they if they aren’t in Laguna or at home? It’s fucking Thanksgiving and I haven’t talked to my girlfriend in three months!

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” I punch the wall again, growling and crying out my pain, not just the pain in my hand, but also the pain in my fucking heart. It feels as if there are a thousand damn needles jabbing me over and over again.

I am not a pansy. This is the love of my life we are talking about here.

My parents have been quiet; they don’t know what to think either. They also can’t get a hold of any of the Beaumont’s. Mom has been trying everything to help me, but I can’t stand the look in her eyes. It’s like she feels pity for me or something. She’s just as upset as I am though. I know she is. She loves Evelyn just like the rest of us do. Mom comes into the room sighing, her sadness apparent in her eyes. I’m a seventeen-year-old fucking kid with a broken heart. Her oldest son in pain and there is nothing she can do about it. If I ever have kids, that is one look I hope they never see from me.

I get even angrier. We were supposed to go to Talania Community College together, get married, start another band and have three babies, but she’s breaking our fucking infinity promise. I punch the wall again.

“She broke her fucking promise to me. I promised her and she fucking promised me,” I growl, making a new hole in the wall.

“I know son, I know.” My mom’s soft voice answers back. “Drake, leave me and Tristan alone please.”

I turn around towards my mom, wiping the blood from my hand onto my shirt.

“Come here and sit down son,” she says as she pats my bed.

I use my good hand to wipe the tears streaming down my face.

“What I’m about to tell you is going to make you feel ten times worse,” she sighs, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“What is it Mom? Nothing can be worse than Ev disappearing on me.”

“Your father went to the Beaumont’s yearly home and found it completely empty and on the market,” she sighs out, rubbing my upper back in calming circles.

Those fucking calming circles that used to work aren’t working this time. She took my life. She took my soul. She took my heart and she took my calming circles. She took everything!

All at once, it’s like the walls of a giant fortress come slamming down around the hole where my heart used to be. It was there. It was being stabbed to death until Mom said they sold their yearly home. Now… now it’s just fucking gone.

Even though my heart is gone, I still bring my knees to my chest and cry into them. Who knew those promises were just lies spurting out of her beautiful mouth? Who knew? I sure as hell didn’t.

“Let it all out son,” Mom coaxes me.

I let it all come out. The grief seems to take forever to pour out of me. It feels like hours have passed since I stopped throwing my fist into the wall and hours since I started crying. My eyes feel like they are swollen, my hand is throbbing and there is an aching hole in my chest. She. Left. Me.

It finally sinks in; she left me and didn’t tell me where she was going. She isn’t answering the phone, returning my texts or writing me. She isn’t showing up this year in Laguna for Thanksgiving. She’s gone. When I finally make that connection with that fucking aching hole in my heart, I vow never to love another fucking woman again. If this is what love does to you, I don’t need it nor do I want it.

“What do you want to do now son?” Mom asks after I stop sobbing.

“I want to forget she ever fucking existed,” I growl out in anger.

“Now son, that’s no way to live. Follow me.” She gets up and walks to my bedroom door.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I get up to follow her.

“I think we should put your past away for a little while.” She takes my hand, pulling me to the spare room.

“What are we doing in the spare room Mom?”

She walks to the end of the bed where the huge trunk is.