Broken Engagement
A prompt from my instructor: I told you not to read that.
I normally can’t sleep when it’s too quiet. Nothing good comes quietly. Sound: my favourite song, whispered declarations, a sister’s laughter; Silence: old movies, secrets kept, absence.
That’s why I find comfort in my restless apartment. The metallic clanging in its ancient radiator is familiar and stable. On rainy days, it’s only a matter of time before the quick plops dripping from the ceiling reach the strategically placed, plastic buckets below. My sister bustling about at all hours of the night, heavy footsteps slamming against the creaky hardwood floors. At least, she used to.
When she was going to be the future Mrs Eric Cool, Luca was full of more energy than she knew how to handle. I could feel her optimism as tangibly as I could feel her gentle hands in mine when she asked me to be her maid of honour. When Eric unceremoniously left her behind less than a month before their nuptials, he took that joy with him and left me with a sluggish imposter. The replica that answered to Luca, didn’t share my sister’s mischievous eyes and lively smile. The only time I hear her now is when she is dragging her tired body to the living room closet where I’ve tucked away the remnants of the promise he’d broken as far away from her sight as I could manage in the tiny apartment.
I hear the telltale whine of that closet’s rusty hinges. I pull myself out of the safe isolation of my bed and pad toward the fluorescent light, I know that I’ll have to drag her away from him again tonight. She’s fenced herself in, the last of his abandoned belongings acting as a border while she traps herself in her memories.
“I told you not to read that,” I remind her from the edge of the room. In her hands, a crisp, white envelope. She holds it like it’s made of glass.
“I didn’t but I want to know what it says.” She answers, refusing to take her eyes away for even a second. She acts like he’ll sneak in and steal that away too if she’s not careful.
“Does it matter what it says?” I ask.Her response is instantaneous.
“It matters why he chose to say it to you.”
Shae. Even from here, I could see my name hastily scribbled across the front of the envelope in Eric’s scratchy script. Steadier than I’ve seen her move in months, Luca closes the distance between us and hands me the envelope.
“Read it to me.”
How do I remind her that I love her too? That she’s not alone even though he’s gone. Do I do what she asks even when I know what it says and how much it would break her to only meet this side of him after it’s too late? Or do I refuse the only thing she’s asked of me since she moved back in and left the now-too-big house behind? I try not to think about what will follow as I pull the simple, one-page letter from its envelope.
“Shae, you know better than anyone how many times I’ve written this letter before, but this will be the last. I tried so hard to do what they told me: I didn’t claim it, I smiled even when I wasn’t happy, I met people that I could lean on. I tried to find something to live for, I promise I did, but I just can’t breathe. It feels like the world is crumbling in on me and I can’t make it stop.”
I hear myself tripping over his last goodbye the longer I went on until I had no choice but to stop. The tension gathering in my throat made it hard to breathe while I try, in vain, to swallow it down. The usual clamour of the apartment was far from soothing now. Everything was too loud like it was screaming at me to stop tearing at open wounds. I can feel each exhale ghosting over my face while Luca looms over me. It’s the only proof I had that she was breathing at all with how stiffly she stands. Finally, I give in and look up into her eyes, silently begging her to let me throw this letter in a fire and never speak of it again, but her face shows no sympathy. I do my best to re-focus on the last leg of the letter, pretending I don’t feel small and shameful in front of this stranger.
“I’d always known I’d end up here. You couldn’t save me. Neither could she. Please, don’t let her convince herself otherwise. Tell Luca that there was nothing she could have done differently to make me stay. I loved her more than I have ever loved anyone else in my life. It just wasn’t enough.”
Finished, I place the letter back in its envelope and offer it to her, it’s no secret anymore. Luca says nothing as she brushes past me and back into her room. The lock of her doors clicks softly into place and I do my best to ignore the
hot, stinging tears as I pick up the mess Eric left behind, before going back to bed. It’s about the only thing I can do for Luca. She’s strong, beautiful, and did what she could to only let others see her at her best. A perfect picture of a wonderfully flawed person. She and Eric were similar in that way, but she seemed almost inhuman over the past few months. She didn’t scream when we found him swinging from the homemade noose. Her voice didn’t waver as she broke the news to his mother over the phone. She held me at his funeral, her back straight and sturdy, with not a tear to be seen. It was the only time I’ve ever felt scared in her arms.
I normally can’t sleep when it’s too quiet, but as I lie in bed, listening through too thin walls, her ragged breaths and muffled screams were deafening. With trembling hands and a guilty conscience, I set my hearing aids on the bedside table. I would welcome the silence if it meant never hearing her cry again.