In my heart, I was always afraid Eli would falter. I knew that if something more serious happened to Daniel, something worse than this, I would lose him. I also understood that someday, eventually, my bubbly personality and the fact that he told me he loved it might become too much for him.
Maybe a few days could make him consider how hurtful his behavior has been, or he might not think about me at all.
It doesn’t matter, I know I’ll be thinking about him.
“I’ll bring you back some honey from my mom and dad,” I say, refusing to let go of him so easily.
He nods, almost dismissing me like I mean nothing.
“Elijah,” I begin, doing my best to hold it together, “I know you’re hurting, but that doesn’t mean you have to spread the pain by saying harsh things when I know deep down you don’t really mean them. I love you, Elijah, warts and all, and I would never use your worst fears, which you told me in confidence, against you. But what you just said was cruel. You didn’t just criticize my insecurities; you made them worse, making my fears feel so much bigger and bringing them all to life. I hope this weekend gives you time to consider what you want.” Because I’m not sure it’s me anymore.
“Bye, Elijah. I’ll be back on Monday.” I bolt out the door, a lump forming in my throat as emotion builds, and I stride with force to stop myself from crying. Swallowing loudly, I breathe in deeply in a desperate bid to keep the tears at bay.
I don’t want to cry. I will not cry.
I’ve heard worse things said about me before, especially regarding my bright personality and how some people think I’m faking it or hiding depression, but none of that is true.
But those things he said, coming from him, the man who claimed he loves me, and who hasn’t said it since, hurt more deeply, all the way down to my marrow.
My volume is too loud for him when all he wants is silence.
I’m too colorful for him when all he wants is gray.
The truth is, I’m too much for him, but I don’t know how to be less.
42
SAPPHIRE
Judder, squeak, scrape… The wipers grind against the windshield noisily, trying their best to do their job, but they fail, flapping noisily back and forth, as the rain falls in sheets.
Even on the highest setting, I can hardly see a foot in front of me.
“Okay, Sapphire, take it slow, you’ve got this.”
It’s been over a year since I’ve driven anywhere in the rain, and my knuckles have turned white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.
The weather report this morning never mentioned rain. Although, come to think of it, I didn’t check the weather for the Sierra foothills.
“Why didn’t you check, Sapphire?” I ask myself in the empty car.
Another low rumble echoes through the valley as the wipers squeal, desperately trying to sweep away the rain that’s falling even harder, making it look like a curtain of glass.
At first, I thought the rumble was thunder, but the ground gave a subtle, sickening shudder that makes me think it’s something much worse. An earthquake, maybe.
I press the accelerator a bit more, the wipers now catching on the glass, stuttering like my breath.
Ahead, the glimpses of asphalt resemble a sea of dark, slick oil.
There’s another rumble, a low one, closer than before.
“That’s not thunder.” I duck my head, trying to see if I can make out what it is, but it’s useless. The rain is too heavy to see through.
Squeal, stutter, squeal, stutter, the rubber drags against the glass as leaves from the trees and spatters of mud smear the windshield, blurring my vision even more.
I’ve already had a rough day, starting with waking up alone, then cycling halfway across the city trying to find Eli, only to find him at his desk where he basically told me he didn’t want me around, and now this.
I could do without a biblical flood. What’s next? Locusts?