“Through My Mind At the Speed Of Sound”
I had heard of the cabin many times as a little girl. I have never been there, but as a child, my mother and my uncles would spend the summer while visiting their grandparents. I sat with my head pressed up against the the faux leather back seat, the smell has always made my stomach turn. By the time the family had crossed the state line into Nebraska, my mother had stopped giving me grief about the wet, chilly air of the April night coming in through the window. It was too dark to see anything but the outline of the cabin. I’ve been picturing something out of Snow White; a tiny cottage situated in a wonderfully peaceful forest setting.
Being such an introverted person, I mentally did a double check to make sure I had a hammock stashed away in the backseat. I’d much rather fall asleep to the sound of the crickets chirping then the guttural snoring of my roommates. The last time I saw a sign for Wi-Fi was on a window of a Starbucks near Denver. I went there to get a chai latte and ducked into the bathroom to tell my boyfriend goodbye forever. Then I cried myself to sleep. I guess not even the pep of a chai latte can cut through the sadness of unrequited love.
Before I wound up in this waking nightmare, I had plans to move to New York City and begin a life with a man whom I love. Two years prior, I met Adam in an online class which focused on Literature. He was wanting to do a thesis on Macbeth and so was I, so we decided to work together. That was the day that I met the man who seemed tailor-made for me. Hours spent discussing literature over webcam would later become a long night in our pajamas talking about the catalyst for our newest Netflix binge. After a few short months, it wasn’t hard to envision us working in the Big Apple, living in a cozy uptown apartment together. We had plans. We were going to put a bed in the center the living room and then fill every surface of the apartment with books.
As I thought about the dream that had died in that dirty bathroom, I folded the pages of my faded copy of “Wuthering Heights”. Tears trickle down my cheeks as I read what was jotted down on the front page,
You know I’ve never been any good at this sappy stuff. In fact, I got you this because I knew you needed it for class, but I want you to know that this is the first and most important presentation that I will ever give you because the inside says I love you.”
I stuck my head out the car window still clutching the book in my hand, fearing I would be sick. I never dreamed that I would lose him this way. And that moment I questioned everything that could have gone wrong. Just a few short weeks ago, I was excited about building a new life with the man I love, and now the life which we have been dreaming of was destroyed forever.
I heaved once and nothing came out. The thought of losing my most beloved book was worse than the thought of projectile vomiting all over the cheap leather seats of my mother’s SUV. Before this moment, I never believed in broken heart syndrome, but now I knew it was more than just something people made up when they wanted to justify stalking their ex on social media.
A million questions ran through my mind, including,
“How could I have lost the love of my life forever?
How could I have been forced uproot my life and move across the country?
How did I get my loved ones into this predicament?”