87. Start of the Breakdown

Man, my faith is weak.

That feeling I had sitting in the pew got washed away with this morning’s rain.

The vast, open, endless blue seems to be forgotten underneath this ceiling of gray.

Something about today is different, and I don’t know what.

Something about Kelsey is different.

Every day we pass and smile and say hi, but that’s it. She’s waiting but doesn’t understand why. And I know that one day I’ll be able to tell her more of the story, but I can’t. Not just yet. So I wait, and the days and the nights morph and then suddenly I see her on this gloomy, wet morning as I’m trying to dry off from my wet morning ride.

I see her talking to some other guy and smiling.

I see her smiling and laughing.

I try not to let her see me, but maybe she does. Maybe she wants me to see her.

You don’t understand, Kelsey.

But later when I pass her in the hall, she doesn’t smile or say hi. She just looks away.

Is this how it starts?

When one morning is enough, and that day is the day to change. When the hurting has morphed into something more. When the temporary break turns into a full-fledged breakdown.

I look for her at lunch, but she’s not in her normal place.

I look for her by her locker later, but that doesn’t work either.

She’s deliberately avoiding me.

Don’t give it away, Chris, don’t let them see you still care for her.

And then later I see her walking with her bodyguard Georgia. I start toward her, but then I see the same tall guy come up to her. A younger guy, a junior I think, but a jock and good-looking and so freaking tall.

I don’t understand you.

I let them go, and I let this day go.

This day in the middle of April when I’m trying to just be patient and wait.

But maybe she’s no longer waiting on me.