Part II

You should hate me for a 4 month gap, but don't please. This is the second part of the last post. Enjoy.

             That was at the end of April. I graduated in June and started classes at the University of Toronto on a dance scholarship. One day in early September, I went to Scarborough Bluffs with my friend Ashley one morning before our dance class. On the way back, she was driving and I was on the passenger side. A truck was merging onto the interstate it skidded and slammed directly into the passenger side. That’s when I went into the coma. I was about 17 or 18 weeks pregnant and I never knew until the doctor told me.

            There’s only one reason I still have hope today. He goes by the name of Aubrey. He’s the older brother of the girl in my dance class I was riding with. After the accident he came to visit me every day. At first it was out of pity, but it grew into friendship and, eventually, the dysfunctional relationship it is today. His mom hates me. She swears it’s my fault that Ashley and I got into that accident and she doesn’t want us together, but I don’t care. I know I was only 17, but that didn’t change anything.

            Between classes, a part-time job at a movie theater, and dance team practices, I have barely anytime to see him. We have to sneak around so his mom doesn’t catch. She’s crazy. She would probably throw some kind of fit and call the cops. She can’t stop us though. We’ll do as we please regardless of her opinion. He’s taking me to lunch later today, and then I have to go to work.                       

                                                               After English Class

            I walk out of the English building and see him leaning against his car, waiting for me. I smile as I walk over to him, throw my arms around his neck, and bury my head in his chest.
            “Happy birthday,” I whisper.
            “Thank you,” he says and kisses my cheek.
            “What do you have planned after lunch?” I question.
            “Depends. What time do you have to be at work?”
            “Not until 4.”
            “Good.”  He smiles and opens the door for me. I get in and wrap my arms tightly around my torso. It’s almost as if I have to do this told hold myself together. I can feel the delicate strings holding my life in the balance starting to unravel. He gets in the other side and gives me a questioning look.
            “What’s wrong?” he asks. He can always tell when something’s bothering me. I hate it.
            “Nothing really, just this dream I had.” I tried to be vague. I hadn’t told anybody since it happened two and a half years ago and I didn’t ever intend to tell anyone. He raised his eyebrows skeptically.

            “You sure?” I turned and looked out the window, trying desperately to hold back tears. How could I not tell him? Especially after all he’s done for me. He kept me sane the past 2 years. My heart and mind were clashing. I want to tell him, so I don’t have to go through this alone, but at the same time I’m embarrassed by my weakness and stupidity. It’s something I don’t want to share with anyone, but I don’t want to bear the burden on my own either.

            “Can you stop?” I ask, my voice laced with impending tears. He pulls over to a secluded park. I get out and go sit down on a bench. He comes and sits down next to me and grabs my hand.

            “Onika, please tell me what’s wrong. I only want to help.” I sigh. I guess it’s time. I tell him my whole story, not leaving out a single detail, even describing the minute and seemingly insignificant emotions I felt along the way. He never says a word while I speak, just listening intently. When I finally finish, I exhale and stare off into the distance. After a moment of apparent composure, I break down in his chest. Tears paint my face with an expression of grief.

            He embraces me and whispers, “It’s okay now. You were so strong. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” I settle in his arms as my erratic breathing steadies. He strokes my hair repeatedly, soothing me.
            “Trust me, I’m going to be here, right by your side, until you tell me to leave,” he says with conviction, “Okay?”  I toy around with the idea in my head…right by my side.
            "Yeah, I'd like that a lot." I smile and hug him back. A sense of liberation and strength flowed through me. In a single instant, he freed me form years of guilt, embarrassment, depression, and reclusiveness. He was the elusive "one". I never actually believed in people falling head over heels in love, but this, this is something real, genuine, and undeniable. I can feel it.

There might be another part but idk. Comment though