“Fuck it, you’re not going. I’m not letting you leave me,” he says stepping back and grabbing my bag. I pull it back and put it to my chest.
“I have to,” I reply in a small voice, not looking up to see his eyes. They will haunt me, of that I’m sure.
“Tell me you will call?” he demands, tipping my head up, so I meet his eyes. I nod my head. “Tell me, Nani?”
I don’t want to make any promises that I may not be able to keep and I don’t want to hurt him more than I am.
“I will call you,” I don’t say when, that’s the only way I can get away with telling him that. He leans in and kisses me on my lips, soft and passionate, but not sexual. I will miss his kisses.
I walk to the cab, feeling his eyes on me watching as I go. He doesn’t wave or say goodbye, he just watches.
It goes to follow… lack of sleep may actually hurt your ability to create new memories.
The years have been hard, so hard that sometimes I would rock myself to sleep. The memories still haunt me in my sleep, in the form of nightmares of my father. Doctor Walker helped. He helped so much that I remember every detail that I had blocked out. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. I tried harming myself on more than one occasion when the memories would come back. I understand completely why I had to be in that facility. It was not just to help me, but to protect me from myself and possibly to protect others. I’ve been living by myself for two months now, working at a local coffee shop and seeing how I do with functioning as a real person.
It has gone well. Tyke, well, he was never real. He was something I hallucinated. It took me a while to come to terms with that. He played a role in both my life and my alter’s. For me, it was something new and exciting and for her it was a way to do what she wanted. There were a lot of doctor’s terms that flew straight over my head at the time, but eventually I was able to come to grips with it all.
Kayla is a part of me, she is me. She may not come to life anymore, but I feel her inside of me, giving me strength when I need it. I haven’t spoken to Kai since I left. I know I said I would call him, but I never did. There were many times I wanted to just hear his voice. Hear him tell me that I can do it or swear at me and tell me to get my ass back to him. I think if I heard his words, I would have. I know I would have in those bad times. When my heart would break, I would have gone to him and asked him to fix my wounds, to make me better. He is someone I know can do that.
I still speak with Julia and I think she will always be my friend. She’s in a relationship with Jimmy the bouncer and is currently getting ready for her trip to Bangkok for her final surgery. As I enter my small apartment in New York, my cell starts to ring.
What do they say? Speak of the devil and she appears?
“Hello.”
“Hey Sugar, I want you to come home for the weekend. Jimmy is going to propose and I want you here with me to celebrate.” I laugh at her. She tries every move in the book to try to get me to come home.
“Are you sure this time?” I ask as I unlock my apartment door and enter. It’s very small. My kitchen is basic with a sink, just enough room for my fridge and little cupboard space. My bedroom is open. I don’t have a living room, so my bedroom is basically the living room.
“Oh my God, I found it this time. I found the friggin’ thing, it’s huge. Just what I like and he asked me to invite some friends over tomorrow night. So you need to get on that plane, now,” she screeches the last part. I pull the cell away from my ear and smirk. Then my smile falls when I think there’s a possibility I may see him.
“Okay, I’ll look for a flight.”
“No need, I booked you one. Get your ass to the airport, your plane leaves in three hours.”
“Julia,” this time, it’s my turn to screech into the cell.
“What? I knew you couldn’t say no forever. Plus, you love me and I have some men coming so you can get your pipes cleaned, girl.”
“Okay, I have to pack,” I tell her and hang up the cell. She emails me right away with the all the details and I pack a large bag.
My take on life is somewhat different than what it used to be. I don’t dress down anymore, and my hair is cut short in a neatly styled slick. I wear makeup now. Not every day, but I take joy in putting it on and bringing out my facial features that I once tried so very hard to hide.
I even speak to my grandmother. She visited once when I was in therapy, which surprised me so much I broke down and cried. She blamed herself for what happened to me. It was her son. She drank to get rid of the guilt that plagued her, because she knew he wasn’t a good man. My mother tried escaping and taking me with her the night they died. My mother called Grandma and she came to get me. My father was furious and took off in the car just as my grandmother got me out. I don’t need to tell you the end of that story as obviously it’s not a happy ending.