Echoes Of A Lost Love

The Paper

I unconsciously slammed the glass of water in my hand onto the dressing table.The sharp c***k shattered the silence.Water leaped from the glass, splashing across the polished wood and running toward the edge in tiny streams. The sudden noise echoed through the bedroom.

Then, the door opened with a long, slow creak. I jerked upright so violently that the chair scraped harshly across the wooden floor.

The folded paper slipped from my left hand. For one suspended heartbeat, I watched it drift through the air before it landed at my feet. My breath caught.

No...

Not now.

Not today.

My pulse pounded so violently that I could hear it drumming inside my ears. It felt as though someone was striking the inside of my chest with a heavy hammer, each beat harder than the last. I instinctively pressed my right hand against my racing heart while struggling to steady my breathing.

"Susan?"

My mom's voice floated gently into the room. I looked up.

She was standing in the doorway, one hand still resting on the brass doorknob while the other balanced a basket of neatly folded laundry against her hip. A warm smile had been resting on her lips when she opened the door, but it disappeared the instant her eyes dropped to the wet table, then to the crumpled paper lying on the floor.

Panic shot through me. I quickly dragged the sleeve of my shirt across my face, wiping away the tears that had soaked my cheeks only moments earlier. I rubbed harder, hoping to erase every trace of them before she noticed. Then I inhaled deeply through my nose, forcing my lips into what I prayed looked like a normal smile.

It didn't feel convincing. It certainly didn't look convincing.

My mother tilted her head slightly. Her eyes lingered on my face longer than usual. Then they drifted to the paper again.

The room fell silent. I could hear the ticking wall clock. The distant hum of traffic outside. Even the slow drip of water sliding from the edge of the table onto the wooden floor. Neither of us moved.

"What fell?"

The question was gentle. Too gentle. A painful knot tightened inside my throat. I tried to swallow. Nothing moved. My mouth had gone completely dry. I swallowed again, harder this time, feeling the tightness scrape painfully down my throat.

"N... n... nothing."

The word stumbled out awkwardly. Even I didn't believe it. My mom's eyebrows drew together ever so slightly. She didn't challenge me immediately. Instead, she quietly set the basket of laundry on my bed without taking her eyes off me.

She knew. Maybe not the whole story. But she knew something was terribly wrong. She took one slow step forward. Then another. Each step seemed louder than the last. I fought the urge to snatch the paper from the floor before she reached it.

'Don't. Please don't look at it.'

My mom stopped only a few feet away. Her eyes searched my face.

Not quickly.

Patiently.

Carefully.

The way only a mother could.

"Susan..."

My name came out almost as a whisper.

"What happened?"

I forced a laugh that sounded painfully unfamiliar.

"Nothing happened."

The smile I tried to hold collapsed almost immediately. My mom said nothing. She simply continued looking at me. That silence frightened me far more than questions ever could. I lowered my eyes. The paper was still lying between us.

Waiting.

Accusing me.

My mom followed my gaze. Her eyes settled on it. Then she looked back at me.

Finally, she bent slightly, reaching toward the floor.

"No!"

The word escaped my lips before I realized I had spoken.

Mom paused. Slowly, she straightened again. Now she wasn't looking at the paper. She was looking directly into my eyes. The concern in her face deepened. My chest tightened.

"Why did I say that?' I asked myself.

Now she'll definitely suspect something. I quickly shook my head.

"I... I mean..."

The words refused to come together. My tongue suddenly felt too large for my mouth.

"I... it's..."

I was confused, not knowing what to say. Not even a single complete sentence. Heat rushed into my face. Embarrassment burned through me.

My mom remained perfectly still. She didn't interrupt. She simply waited. That patience made the guilt even heavier. Finally, she crouched down and picked up the folded paper. I instinctively reached toward her.

"Mom..."

My voice sounded small. Almost pleading. She unfolded it. Her eyes moved slowly across the single sentence written in blue ink. The tiny crease between her eyebrows deepened. She read it again. Then she lifted her gaze toward me.

"Who wrote this?"

The question struck me harder than I expected. Another knot formed in my throat. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

My vision blurred. I lowered my eyes, hoping she wouldn't notice the fresh tears gathering again.

"Think. Say something. Anything." I said to myself.

"It's..."

The single word caught in my throat. I swallowed hard.

"It..."

Again my voice failed me. I could hear my own breathing growing uneven. Each breath entered my lungs too quickly and escaped too slowly. My fingers curled tightly against my palms until my nails pressed painfully into my skin.

"Who wrote it, Susan?"

My mom's voice remained calm, but there was a quiet firmness beneath it now. I looked everywhere except at her.

The window.

The dresser.

The wet table.

The family photograph hanging above the fireplace.

Anywhere but her eyes.

Because I knew if I looked into them...I would break.

"It's from..."

I stopped again. My lips trembled. I squeezed my eyes shut for the briefest moment before finally forcing the name past the lump in my throat.

"...Dave."

The room became silent once more. Only this time, the silence carried the weight of a secret that had been hidden for far too long.

My mom repeated the name softly, almost as though she were searching her memory.

"Dave..."

Then recognition settled over her face. "The boy from your school?"

I nodded without lifting my head.

"The one you used to mention every now and then?"

Another nod.