I feel no different the next morning, so I sit up to go get water for the pills but my phone’s blinking notification light catches my eye. There’s a new email in there, the first email I’ve received in as long as I can remember.
I tell myself I don’t care, but I know I’m lying. Someone wanted to contact me and I want to know who it was.
Sure it’s probably just junk mail, I pick up the phone and check.
Dear Valerie,
I’m emailing because I don’t think you’d take my call.
I wouldn’t take it, if I were you. You told me something big and scary and I bolted. I think now maybe I know how you felt after I showed you that painting. Maybe we felt the same way - like staying there in front of something we couldn’t accept was too much to take.
I went straight back to the studio after our coffee and looked at the painting again. I looked for ages. I’d thought Gloria was reaching down to rescue Anthony but I see now she was dropping the balloons after taking them from the mantel. You’re right, and you’re not a monster. I should never have said that.
I hate that Gloria did that to you, but it does fit with how unhappy she was lately. I think she made the painting for you, so she could show it to you and admit what happened and tell you how sorry she was. Though I know it was horrible for you to see it, I’m glad she did it because at least now you know the truth. I have all of her paintings in my apartment now, and you can have any or all that you want. I hope maybe you can come to forgive her someday.
And forgive me. For not telling you about the painting before, for running away, and for earlier too, for that night we went out for dinner and you didn’t know I’m gay. I should have told you before then so things wouldn’t have gotten awkward, but the thing is that my family handled it so badly I was afraid to tell you, with everything else that was going on, when I didn’t know how you’d react. I’d tell you it’s hard to have your family ripped apart like that but I know you know. I was scared, I guess, that you would hate me for it too.
Anyhow, I’m rambling, and what I really want to say is how sorry I am. I know you’re not eating, and I feel terrible. I thought you were too skinny at Gloria’s funeral, and even more so at the coffee shop, and me being gay and having to shoot you down might have contributed to that. Then upsetting you with the painting probably pushed you further in that direction and I hate myself for that too. I think I’m responsible for everything falling apart for you and I am so so sorry.
If you are willing to call me or see me, or even email me back, I’d love it. I want a chance to fix the mess I’ve made of things for you. If you won’t, I understand, but I hope you will.
Remy
I read this twice, then shut off the phone with a sharp smack at the power button. Some ego, assuming everything that goes wrong in my life is because of him. How stupid is he to think my screwed-up life is his responsibility?
I feel like I’ve been smacked instead of the phone.
How stupid is he?
How stupid am I?
I look down at the phone in my hand but see my hand instead, all the bones in it and my wrist standing out in sharp relief. I’m a skeleton covered in skin. There’s no substance to me, just as there’s no substance to my life.
The phone slips out of my hand onto the bedside table. I can’t deny what I’m seeing any more. Things are very wrong. And I did this to myself. All of it. I locked myself into this bony prison.
And why?
Because I made Gloria’s assault my responsibility. I took on a goal that had nothing to do with her to feel like I could do something, and I’ve continued doing that something even now that she’s gone and I’m probably not far behind given how awful I feel every day.
And before that I made Anthony’s death my responsibility. Even if I had been the one to drop the balloon, it was an accident. A horrible one, but an accident. I couldn’t accept that, so I took the blame on myself, the blame and the responsibility. I locked up every aspect of my life to prevent another accident.
But of course that didn’t work. Accidents don’t care who’s to blame, and they happen no matter how responsible you are.
I couldn’t let myself see that, though, or I’d have to also see that the world is full of random events and that sometimes bad things happen no matter how careful you are.
Instead, I took on all the responsibility so I could delude myself that I could have all the security I wanted and needed.
And when anyone tried to take a bit of that responsibility from me, like Mara and Nico had done, I shoved them away to protect my security.
All because I wanted control.
Well, I have it all right.
And it sucks.