Trying to live

Chapter 9 (Edited)

I knew my heart wanted answers about why he had done what he did. But it was already too late. I had moved on, and so had he. Everyone could see that. There was nothing left to do, and I certainly didn't want to dig into the past and talk about it. Our breakup was a closed wound, one that had already healed. I wanted nothing more from Henry Avilla—he was a closed chapter, and he would stay that way.

Mrs. Avilla's voice cut through my thoughts again. I had completely forgotten she was speaking. "I could arrange the room again for you if you want."

"No, no. That's not necessary. It's better if I have another room, and I won't be staying long," I said.

"Why do I have the feeling that you don't want to stay at all?" she asked.

Because I don't, I thought. I shrugged. Mrs. Avilla sighed. "Why do you think that? You know, I'm really disappointed in you."

I stared at her, bewildered. "You're disappointed in me?" I asked, letting out a harsh laugh. "How can you be disappointed in me when I'm disappointed in you? How can you say that when you showed no interest in me last year?"

I didn't care if my voice grew loud. I was angry that Mrs. Avilla claimed to be disappointed in me. She had no right to say that. We hadn't talked much since the breakup, just a few casual greetings. How could she expect to have a meaningful conversation with someone she had barely interacted with after ending things with her son?

But even if we had broken up, that didn't mean everything should be left unresolved, a small voice in my head whispered. A voice I hated because it was often right. And if I was honest, I needed Mrs. Avilla last year. I wasn't okay when I came back, and the weeks leading up to junior year were hell. Having Mrs. Avilla with her kind nature and comforting hugs might have made things less painful, I guess.

Mrs. Avilla's eyes widened. "Em—"

I shook my head, realizing I shouldn't have said that. "I'm sorry. I... I got carried away. I didn't mean it like that."

"Why not?" she demanded. "You have every right to be angry, and I shouldn't have said I'm disappointed. Not after what you've been through—not after the truth that I had ignored you initially, only because I thought Henry was heartbroken after your breakup. And as a mother, I felt obligated to lessen the pain of my child."

She looked away, as if the next words she spoke made her feel ashamed. "He was... he was sad that it ended, you know. But then he suddenly brought Juliette around, and I didn't understand. I mean, Juliette visited him often when you weren't here, but Henry always said they were just friends." She looked at me, her troubled expression softening my heart as if she had never left me. "I believed him."

Mrs. Avilla's expression shifted to one I knew well—shame. She was embarrassed for not having seen the signs of her son's changes. I sighed and reached out, gently taking one of her hands, which was gripping tightly, turning white from the pressure. "And that was the right thing to do, Mrs. Avilla. That wasn't the only reason for our breakup," I said, trying to soften the truth. It was a significant reason, but not the sole cause.

Mrs. Avilla clasped my hand with a firm grip. "Suddenly, they were together. I tried to talk to Henry, sure he was hurt, but he never showed it. You know how he is—he never reveals what's inside his head or heart, never lets on how much things can hurt him too."

"I know," I thought.

"And then one day, I saw how you looked at them—not with hate, not with rage, just pain and something else that broke my heart. I followed you that day to the lake. You cried."

"I did," I whispered, recalling the painful memory I wished I could forget.

It had been a tough day from the start, beginning with my mom. Seeing Juliette and Henry together had triggered something deep within me, and I drove to the lake in a desperate attempt to escape. I cried, my tears flowing freely in the absence of any comforting words. The loneliness was overwhelming until I felt two arms around me, holding me tight. I thought it was someone else, but it wasn't, and I should have known better. Yet, I was grateful for Mrs. Avilla's embrace, which only made me cry harder.