FORTY-SIX

FORTY-SIX

The Forgiveness

- RAQUEL -

New Year’s Eve

Time flies by.

After Halloween, Ares and I hung out several times a week before he went on a Thanksgiving trip with his family. The more time I spent with him, the more I got to know him. I was able to catch those little things, like what a perfectionist he is whenever he does something for school, or how responsible he is with his soccer team, never once missing practice and always giving his best. Ares has amazing discipline, and it’s kind of rubbing off on me. Not that I’m undisciplined, but I could definitely work on being on top of things like he is.

And what better example is there than what I’m doing right now: trying to write an essay I should have submitted before Christmas break. My literature teacher gave me extra time to work on it; however, it’s not coming along well. Yoshi used to be the one helping me with essays. God, I miss him. The worst part is that from all the topics offered, I chose to write on forgiveness. I’m an idiot. I start typing on the Notes app on my phone:

I’m sorry . . .

Forgive me . . .

I never meant to hurt you.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

Asking for forgiveness can be so difficult. It requires maturity and courage. Admitting that you were wrong means facing yourself. It means facing the fact that you are not perfect and never will be, and that you are capable of making mistakes like everyone else.

To make mistakes is part of being human, to admit them is part of being brave.

The worst mistakes are those that you can’t erase. No matter if someone apologizes, no matter how much they do, it leaves a scar on your heart. Scars that still hurt when you remember them.

I stop because I’m getting emotional. New Year’s Eve has a way of making me feel sensitive, of making me reflect on everything I’ve done, and what I haven’t. I’ve been through so much this year, and the last six months have been a roller coaster of emotions for me.

The clock shows 11:55 p.m. My eyes fill with tears, and it doesn’t surprise anyone. I’ve always cried when midnight approaches on New Year’s Eve, whether out of sadness, joy, nostalgia, or a combination of emotions that even I can’t figure out.

My mother puts her arm over my shoulder to hug me sideways. We’re sitting on the couch at her closest friend’s house. Helena has a large family, and we always spend New Year’s Eve with them. I guess my mother has never liked the idea of us spending it alone, and neither do I. My mother caresses my arm, resting her chin on my head.

Helena appears in front of us, holding her three-year-old grandson in her arms.

There are about fifteen people in this small room. The host on the TV screen starts counting backward.

Ten . . .

Dani’s laughter . . .

Nine . . .

Carlos’s foolishness . . .

Eight . . .

Yoshi’s nerdy arguments . . .

Seven . . .

Apolo’s innocence . . .

Six . . .

My mother’s disappointment . . .

Five . . .

Ares’s hurtful words . . .

Four . . .

Ares’s sweet words . . .

Three . . .

His beautiful smile when he wakes up . . .

Two . . .

The deep blue of his eyes . . .

One . . .

I love you, Witch.

Everyone is shouting, hugging, celebrating, and I can’t help but smile, even though thick tears are streaming down my cheeks.

I miss Ares a lot. He’s spending Christmas and New Year’s on an exotic beach in Greece because, apparently, they have family there. I couldn’t help teasing him about the Greek gods going to Greece. Ares asked me over and over again if I wanted him to stay, but how could I allow myself to take time with his family away from him? I’m not that selfish.

My mother hugs me, bringing me back to reality.

After a few hugs, I sit on the couch. I have nothing to do—the reality of it takes me by surprise. After welcoming the year, Joshua would always come for me, and we would go out and wish happy New Year all over the streets, with everyone awake and celebrating. I glance at my phone at the opened note on forgiveness that I haven’t finished.

Joshua has always been by my side, and these last few months have been hard without him because we have so many of our own traditions. We used to go out to play in the first snowfall of the year, welcome the kids in scary costumes on Halloween, have marathons of our favorite series, and buy different books so that when we were done reading them, we could exchange them. We had board game nights and bonfires with horror stories next to my house. We even set the yard on fire once, and Mom almost killed us.

I smile at the memory.

What am I doing?

I may not be able to trust him so easily, but I can forgive him. There’s no room in my heart for a grudge.

Without much thought, I grab my coat and follow my heart. I run out of Helena’s house and the cold of the newly arrived winter hits me, but I run down the sidewalk, waving and wishing happy New Year to everyone I meet along the way. Christmas lights decorate the street and the trees in the gardens in front of the houses. There are children playing with sparklers and others making snowballs to throw. The view is beautiful, and I realize that sometimes we get so focused on our problems that we don’t see the beauty of simple things.

Hugging myself, I start walking faster. I can’t run through the snow, I don’t want to slip and break any bones; that would be pathetic. My foot gets buried in a pile of snow and I shake it off to continue, but when I look up, I freeze.

Joshua.

With his long black coat, a black cap, and his glasses slightly fogged by the cold. I say nothing and just run to him, forgetting the snow, the problems, the emotional scars, I just want to hug him.

And I do, linking my hands around his neck and pulling him tight against me. I smell the scent of that soft cologne he always wears, and it fills me and soothes me.

He presses me against his chest.

No.

That’s not what happened.

No matter how much I wished that had happened, it won’t change the reality.

Reality is me running through the snow with tears on my cheeks, with no coat, and clutching my cell phone so tightly in my hand that it might break. My lungs burn from the cold air, but I don’t care. My mother runs after me, yelling at me to calm down, to stop, to put on my coat, but I don’t care.

I can’t breathe properly.

I still remember how quickly my smile faded when I got the call. Joshua’s mother sounded inconsolable.

They didn’t know if he was going to survive, his pulse was so weak.

No, no, no. Joshua, no.

Everything begins to flash before my eyes. What did I do wrong? Where did I fail? Why, Joshua? Guilt was the first feeling to fill my heart. It had never, ever crossed my mind that he could do something like this. He didn’t look depressed, he didn’t . . . I . . .

Arriving at his house, the ambulance speeds past me, and I fall to my knees in the snow. Joshua’s neighbors come over and put a coat over me. I clutch my chest, breathing heavily. My mother hugs me from behind.

The taxi ride to the hospital is silent, except for the sound of my sobs. With my head on my mother’s lap, I pray. I pray that he survives. This is not supposed to happen. This is a nightmare. My best friend couldn’t have done that, my Yoshi . . .

Arriving at the emergency room, I run over to his parents. They look devastated. Their eyes are swollen, and the pain is evident on their faces. As soon as they see me, they burst into tears. I join them, hugging them.

Wiping away my tears, I softly push away.

His mother shakes her head.

The agony and pain reflected in their faces are so hard to see. I can feel their despair and guilt. Where did we fail? What didn’t we see? Maybe everything or maybe nothing. Joshua might have given us signs, or he might have given us nothing, but still this feeling of guilt, of failing him, eats away at us all.

Suicide . . .

An almost taboo word. One that nobody mentions and no one likes to talk about. It’s not pleasant, much less comfortable, but the reality is that it does happen, that there are people out there struggling who need help. And I was naive enough to think that it only happened to other people, that it would never happen to someone close to me.

I never suspected that Joshua would do something like this.

Please, Joshua, don’t die, I beg, closing my eyes. I’m here, I’ll never leave, I promise. Please don’t go, Yoshi.

Minutes pass, hours, I lose track of time. The doctor comes out, with a face that makes my heart clench in my chest.

Please . . .

The doctor sighs.

Relief floods through my body. If it wasn’t for my mother holding me up, I would collapse to the ground. The doctor talks about referring him to a psychiatrist and a lot of other things, but I just want to see Yoshi and make sure that he’s okay and that he’s not going anywhere. I need to talk to him and convince him that he can never do anything like that again, and to apologize for pushing him away, and for not trying to make things right between us.

Maybe if I had been . . . he wouldn’t have . . .

Maybe.

The doctor tells us that Joshua will be unconscious for the rest of the night, and that we can go rest and come back in the morning, but none of us move. My mother gets us an empty room where we can rest. This is her hospital, and everyone knows and respects her. She’s one of the longest-serving nurses in the place.

My mother caresses my hair as I rest my head on her lap.

I don’t say anything. I just stare at a window in the distance, watching the snowflakes fall. My mother caresses my cheek.

My eyes burn from crying so much. I close them to try to sleep a little, to forget, to forgive myself.

Carefully, I climb down the tree. When I’m standing on the ground, Joshua touches me and runs away.

He ignores me and keeps running, and I have no choice but to chase him.

A squeeze on my shoulders wakes me up, ending that pleasant dream, full of games and innocence. My mother rubs my arm and offers me a coffee with her other hand.

Caramel macchiato, my favorite.

It reminds me of Ares and our first date at the hospital. I haven’t dared to call him, to say anything to him, because I know he’ll come running, and I don’t want to ruin his New Year. I know that’s the least of it right now, but I don’t want to involve anyone else in this painful situation.

My heart clenches, and my chest burns.

My hand shakes on the door handle, but I turn it, and step inside. My eyes are fixed on the floor as I close the door behind me. When I look up, I cover my mouth to stifle my sobs.

Joshua is lying on white sheets, an IV hooked up to his right arm. He looks so pale and fragile, like he could break at any moment. His honey-colored eyes meet mine and immediately fill with tears. With big steps, I approach him and hug him gently.

When we separate, Joshua averts his gaze, wiping away his tears.

I step back, staring at him, but he doesn’t look at me.

Where had that bitterness in his voice come from? That disinterest in life? Had it always been there? I remember my mother’s words: asking for help makes no sense because life has lost meaning. Maybe nothing mattered to him anymore.

I approach him.

He shakes his head, and I take his face in my hands. “Look at me!”

His eyes meet mine, and the emotions I see in them break my heart: despair, pain, loneliness, sadness, fear . . . lots of fear. Tears come to my eyes again.

Joshua’s lower lip shakes. There are tears escaping his eyes.

He hugs me, burying his face in my chest as he cries like a child, and I can only cry with him.

He’s going to be fine. I have no idea how to make him fall in love with life again, but I will breathe for him for as long as it takes.