October 22, 2016

What to write when you do not feel like writing at all?

I have had a lot to think about and it is all because of one stupid advice from someone I should not even have given a second of my time.

I was already beating myself up internally over my sort of relationship.

It has been almost two months and Cecilia is still joking about how I am her hot young neighbor she is screwing, and I am starting to come to terms that is all I will ever get to be for her.

Was it stupid of me to think we were more, or at least had the potential to be more?

With no one to ask those sorts of questions I felt hopeless about ever getting the answers I so desperately need.

I could not possibly talk about this with Evelyn or Lucy, obviously, and the only other people Cecilia and I had in common was Nero and, sort of, my mother, but not like I would ever talk about that with my mother.

I knew the second I told my mother how insecure I was feeling about Cecilia there would be no turning back and she would forever hate my former professor—even if my hopes were fainting about Cecilia and I lasting, they were still there, in the back of my mind, which meant there was no way I would risk my mother not getting along with her.

And then there was one.

Nero should be my go-to, right? He was someone I had confided in many times before. The father figure I was left with since my own dad had passed, and yet, now that he was in fact in the position of being a father figure I seemed to need so much, I did not feel comfortable talking about my angst with him.

He was no longer the family friend who then turned out to be my professor, and later my mentor. Now he was my mother's boyfriend, and I had no idea just how open they were with each other.

There was still one person, though. One person I had in common with Cecilia, but not someone I would have ever even fathom to ask for help. Yet she found just the way to come back in our lives—well, more like my life—, and mess even more with the thoughts already going on inside my head.

I really thought I would never have to deal with one Miranda Myers ever again, but that was clearly wishful thinking on my side.

Our city was not all that small, but the economic and social circles we belonged to should have been reason enough for me to at least be aware of that possibility—not like I would have expected to cross paths with her the way I did thought.

I had a doctor's appointment a couple days ago, and there she was, at the waiting room with her younger daughter. I could understand what Cecilia had seen on the woman. Even if she had been an asshole to the professor, it was clear that single action did not define her.

She was caring to her daughters, at least that was what I gathered from watching her from afar. The kid was clearly nervous about being at a clinic, how ironic though, to have a doctor for a mother and yet fear going to a doctor's appointment.

They were using matching sundresses—kinda corny, to be honest—, and if I did not know any better, I would say that woman would not ever be able to hurt someone.

Miranda's eyes matched the smile on her lips as she watched her daughter play with her mother's hands.

Maybe it was the staring or the fact the receptionist got my attention by calling me by my name, but nevertheless, she noticed I was there.

Our eyes met and although I was half expecting her demeanor to change when she acknowledged my presence, it did not—at least not in the way I would have expected it to.

She half smile at me, there was something in her eyes I couldn't quite grasp, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was something to do with regret.

I tried to cut our interaction short by looking for some other available seat that not the one beside her, but then again, when was I ever lucky like that?

We said our hellos before sitting in complete silence beside each other. I do not know why, but in that moment, I felt guilty. I felt the guilt consume me because even though Cecilia and she were over, I still felt like I had stolen the professor from her—stupid, I know.

I did not think she would have the balls to ask me about Cecilia, especially considering everything, but she did it anyways.

"How is... how's she?" It was not hard to guess who she was inquiring about. It was also not hard to see she still cared about the professor.

"She's doing great." I was not lying nor was I trying to rub it on her face, but to be honest it felt like Cecilia did not even remember about ever being hurt by the doctor, there just seemed not to have any emotional scars left to tell their story.

"So, I guess it's true, she did end up going after you." How she came to that conclusion out of the few words I had said, I could not understand. I guess my surprise was reason enough for her to believe she had guessed right.

"I'm glad for you two." She did not seem though, but she also did not seem spiteful over it, it was more like she was just... sad, I guess.

"Here honey, why don't you watch something on mommy's phone for a little?" Miranda said handing her phone to her daughter who sat on her mother's lap as she put the headsets, that clearly did not fit her properly, over the top of her head, and just like that the world around her was muffled for a while.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you, especially since you were my patient. Sorry I let my emotions get in the way of that. It was just too much for me. To see her look at you the way she did, and talk about you all the time, and the longing in her eyes whenever you were with someone else. It was hard to compete against an ideal." To that, I was left confused.

"What do you mean, an ideal?" If I had known any better, I would have just kept my mouth shut—maybe then my thoughts would not be all over the place.

"I think she told you how we met?" I just nodded, eager for her to say what she meant to say.

"So you know I have known her for many years, and before we even had anything close to a relationship, we were friends, the closest of friends. I have known her all throughout her many attempts of a healthy relationship. I have seen her fall in and out of love and every time it happened it was like she was never in love at all." It scared me to hear something like that, because it was just how I viewed Cecilia's coping process to their breakup.

"I see. She was like that when I left, right?" But I did not have to answer, it was not a real question if the person asking it already knew the answer.

"I honestly don't know what to expect of you two in a relationship, because you're different somehow, and I truly hope this time it's different. There is this sort of an ideal she always seemed to aim at in her life, when it came to pretty much everything, her job, where she lived, her love life... She just seemed to always aim for a certain feeling she felt once upon a time in another life." Rome, she meant Rome.

What did that even mean thought? Was it good, or bad? Did that mean Cecilia had found what she was looking for? I was different, Miranda said, but how?

"She told me about Rome, and how I made her feel like she felt back when she lived there. But I don't know, maybe that feeling is gone, or maybe she realized it's not all she thought it was." I had to be pretty desperate to confide in the one person Cecilia would hate for me to even talk with.

"Don't blame yourself for it, don't try too hard with her. Because for Cecilia Bailey, it's all about the chase, and once she reaches her prey, the adrenaline washes away." After that they called her name and I was left with more unanswered questions, and just one thing on my mind.

I could not help but remember the first coherent thought I had about her, she was just like the fox. Cecilia had chased me and won. She had finally gotten the prey.

And before I knew it, she would be after her next hunt and I would be left to pick up the pieces of myself scattered all over the place, the only sign she was ever there.

Our relationship that was apparently not even a relationship at all, had an expiration date just like the one before. And I was left to figure out by myself how to either find a way to fix what would soon be broken or to prevent it from breaking at all.

It seemed that after months of a smooth treatment path for my migraine, my medication had finally found a worthy opponent, and even if she was not a drug, she was just as addicting, and to top it off, it seemed I would soon have to face an unwanted detox.

After Miranda left and I was once again alone, I realized for the first time in a very long time, the lights seemed brighter, and the noises seemed louder, and my head felt like it would explode. At least I was at my doctor, and maybe he would be able to figure out how to mend a soon to be broken heart.

And because I did not know any better, I was left to wonder while I pretended to the professor and myself that everything was fine as Cecilia slept beside me on my bed, with her bare back facing the ceiling and a clueless smile playing on her lips while I wrote my worries away.

But I did not write them away, I just wrote them deeper inside my brain.

Maybe I am just overthinking, maybe Miranda is wrong, maybe she played it nice so that she could plant an evil seed on my already troubled thoughts. Either way, I better figure out what to do next.

Remi

You know what comes next, you knew all along and yet you did not care at all.