The Silent Waters (Elements 3)

I shut my eyes. “I can’t…”

She pulled me closer to her, resting her hands against my chest. When I opened my eyes, she was staring up at me with so much hope.

“Okay.” I shifted my feet and took her hands into mine. “Five minutes.”

The first minute, I had the hardest time staring her way. She reminded me of everything I always wanted and everything I’d already lost. The second minute, she reminded me of the best days of my life. The third minute, I thought of music. Maggie always reminded me of music. She was my music.

She moved in closer, and I stepped back, dropping our hold from one another.

I shook my head. “No. You can’t comfort me. I’m sorry. I can’t be near you. I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m going to go into town for the day, and when I get back, please be ready to leave.” I turned to walk away, embarrassed by my rawness, and as my foot hit the doorway, I spoke my truth. “You can’t fix me, Maggie. You gotta let me drown.”

I wouldn’t leave, and that pissed him off.

Each day that passed I received two different versions of Brooks Tyler Griffin. The first was the silent one, who’d walk past me without saying a word. In all my time of knowing him, he’d never once made me feel invisible until I came to that cabin.

The second version of Brooks was the drunken, rude, asshole version. It was a side of him I didn’t know existed. He’d stumble home sloppy drunk so many times, and come my way, telling me how pathetic I was, and how I should’ve moved on with my life, because we’d never be together. We’d never have a future.

“I mean, look at you. You’re sitting here, waiting for me. What’s the matter with you?” he slurred, stumbling side to side in my doorway at three in the morning one night. “Stop embarrassing yourself, Magnet. This isn’t going to happen. Don’t you have some kind of list to get to?” He snickered and fell backward against the wall. “Or are you too afraid to do anything on your own?”

It was those nights when I wanted to leave the most. It was those nights when I wanted to throw in the towel and leave Brooks in his own misery.

But then I’d hold onto my anchor necklace and remind myself of how many times he stood by my side.

At night, I’d take baths, sink under the water, and remind myself. That’s not him. That’s not him. That’s not my love…

If I walked away from him when things became hard, what would that say about me? How would I ever forgive myself if his mind went so dark and he slipped away? On the days I needed him most, he always stood by me, and I owed it to him to do the same.

Being in love with someone didn’t mean you only loved them during the sunbeams. It meant you stood by their side during the cloudy nights, too.

He didn’t love the person staring back at him in the mirror anymore. He didn’t see the fun, charming, goofy person he used to be. He didn’t laugh anymore, and I struggled to remember the last time he smiled.

It was my job to remind him.

It was my job to be his anchor.

It was my job to stay and love him through it all.

On the days Brooks was at his worst, I had to walk away. I’d go into town and explore the small shops, yet I hadn’t known how hard it would be on my mind. I noticed everything—every smell, every noise, every person. My mind was on constant alert, warning me of the dangers of the world. The idea of not knowing what was coming from around the corner horrified me.

When a man accidentally bumped into me, I tripped over my feet and fell to the ground, cowering with fear. He apologized over and over again and tried to help me up, but I was too embarrassed to accept his help.

Since I couldn’t go back to the cabin, I’d gone to the place that most reminded me of home—the library. Each day I’d visit the Messa Library and sit in a back corner reading to take my mind off of the world. Mrs. Henderson always came by to visit me and slid me a piece of chocolate, winking my way. “No food or drink allowed in the library, but since you’re so good at almost blending in with the walls, I think we can let this slide.”

Thank you, I wrote.

“You’re more than welcome.” She pulled out the other chair at the table and paused. “You mind a little company today?”

I gestured for her to sit. Anyone who brought me chocolate each day was allowed to sit with me.

“What are you reading?” she asked.

I showed her the cover.

“Ah, Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s one of my favorite pieces of her work. Second to only to Northanger Abbey.”

I nodded in agreement, appreciating Mrs. Henderson’s wise opinion of Austen’s work.

She went into her pocket, pulled out a piece of chocolate, and then popped it into her mouth. “I like to think that Persuasion is a perfect mix of profound moments stirred with wonderful entertainment.”