Melissa Collins: Let Love Heal

The inevitability of us being separated over break and his distance from me over said break was just too much for me to handle, I guess. I turned into that girl . You know the one who lets her insecurities get the best of her, yeah, that one. I was weak and foolish and talked myself into believing that Bryan, sweet, funny, amazingly perfect, Bryan, was cheating on me.

I let myself believe that he didn’t want me.

He’s openly admitted to hating Courtney. Told me time and time again that he was done with her, but I could never believe him. But by stopping me from visiting him, isn’t that what he said essentially? That he doesn’t want me and that we’re over.

Even if he was cheating and didn’t want me, it didn’t give me a free pass to do what I did. Neither one of us had said the words to end things, but we never said the words to say that they weren’t either.

Wow. I am really one screwed up chick over all of this.

And let’s face it, even if there is some kind of logical explanation for the text I got, he’ll still break up with me. I cheated. God, I can’t believe how badly I’ve screwed up. A sinking feeling settles down low in my stomach – both at the idea of having to tell him about what happened and at the knowledge that after I tell him, he’ll leave me for good.

I’ve been lost in my own little world of self-pity for most of the ride here, and I’m thankful that Mom has left me alone for the most part. I haven’t had the heart, or the courage for that matter, to talk to her about Bryan. Letting Mom down, or anyone for that matter, has never been an option for me. Hell, I haven’t told anyone – except Maddy, and I didn’t even give her all of the details.

I’ve always been the perfectionist. The perfect daughter. The perfect best friend. The perfect student. It’s a cover, though. If I can maintain an image of perfection in every other area of my life, no one will ever know how unhappy I really am. On some level, I know it’s silly to be unhappy with my life just because I’m not the perfect size-two supermodel that everyone else seems to be. You see, if I get the perfect grades and act the perfect way, then no one will notice me for my too-wide hips and my softly rounded belly. No one will notice that there isn’t a lot, if any, space between my thighs. No matter how healthily I eat, or no matter how much I exercise, I will always be a curvy size 16. To be honest, I still don’t understand what Bryan sees in me, why he’s even attracted to me in the first place.

Not that it matters any more anyway. My track record of perfection, feigned or not, is officially ruined now. There’s no way in hell I could ever be considered the perfect girlfriend. Unless sleeping with some random guy at a party is a new requirement for girlfriend of the year, I can officially pull my name from that drawing. I don’t even remember who the hell the guy was; that’s the really shitty part. I was too drunk to remember much of anything. What kind of girlfriend cheats and can’t even remember who the other person is?

“Hey, Melly Belly. We’re almost there.” Mom’s sweet voice rouses me from my blank stare out of the window. The towers of Ithaca College start to rise above the horizon and I know that we’re less than five minutes from campus.

A sense of emptiness engulfs me as we park the car in front of the dorm. Part of me is happy that I’ll be on my own here for a few days. Maybe it’ll help me clear my head a bit. Maybe I’ll be able to figure out how to deal with this whole cheating situation? Maddy told me that I have to tell him – some line about wishing she had been honest with Reid. I know she’s right, but the coward in me wants to bury it down so far that no one ever finds out about it.

How can I publicly admit to being such a failure? Not being perfect just isn’t an option.

After Mom and I have unloaded the car and set up my room, we grab some takeout for dinner and veg-out to some random television show. I can tell she’s dying to say something, but I also know that she can tell I’m avoiding talking to her.

After dinner, Mom cleans up. She’s always taking care of me and I just wish she would stop worrying about me. I can’t tell her that of course, but I just wish she would go on with her life. She doesn’t mingle in mine – I can’t complain about an overly-nosey parent like some people, but her not having her own life has made me feel incredibly guilty.

Glancing over to her at the sink, my heart warms. She’s standing there, washing a few dishes, humming happily. I know most little girls are completely enamored with their mothers. But there isn’t a word out there for the kind of love that I feel for my mom. She’s beautiful, genuinely caring – not at all in that “I’m your mother so I have to care” way. And oh, God, is she funny. Yes, she’s a complete dork sometimes and I will openly admit to rolling my eyes at her at least once daily, but there’s no hiding it; she’s my favorite person ever.

Feeling overly sentimental, I walk up behind her at the sink and wrap my arms around her still very narrow waist. She grabs the small dish towel from the counter and wipes her hands before turning around in my embrace and wrapping her arms around me.

“Hey, now. What’s all this about?” Her words are muffled by the mass of bright red hair piled atop my head against which she places her lips as she kisses me.

Still completely unwilling to open up to her, I just shrug my shoulders – a non-committal gesture. “Nothing, really. I guess I just got used to being around you over break. I’m going to miss you now that I’m back here.” I break the embrace and lean up against the pale blue kitchen counter – the one that she just wiped clean, repeatedly.

She’s folding the dish towel and looping it through the handle on the small stove as she says, “Oh, sweetie, I’ll miss you too.” Mom leans up against the counter opposite me and a sad look creeps across her face. “When you girls started school last semester, it was the first time in … well, in forever that I was really on my own. With Maddy moving out and you back here, it’s just me. It’s kind of weird.” She brushes a few stray strands of her hair out of her bright blue eyes, but I think it’s just an excuse to rub away the tears that are starting to form.

This is what I’m talking about. Even if I did want to talk to her about my problems, how can I even begin to unload on her when she’s dealing with her own world of crap?

“Oh, Mom. I wish …” She shushes me before I can even finish what I’m about to say, not that I really knew what I was going to say. I wish what? That I was still home with you? That Dad was still alive so you wouldn’t have to be alone? That Maddy was still here with me? That Bryan will forgive me? Too much to wish for if you ask me.

Mom just holds out her arms and I walk into them willingly. “There’s nothing to wish for, baby. Things are how they are, because that’s how they’re supposed to be. I’ll be just fine. Just have to get used to being alone, that’s all.” She plants a soft kiss on the top of my head again and holds me at arm’s length.

Brushing my unruly hair out of my face and cupping my cheeks, she stares at me through shimmering eyes and says, “I love you so much, Melanie. And I am so proud of you for the woman you’ve become. You’re doing so well here.” She glances around my empty suite, but I know she means off on my own at college when she says “here.”

My heart swells with love for her. I want her to be proud of me, but how can she be? She wouldn’t be if she knew everything.

A sinking nauseating feeling gathers in my stomach. I feel like I could vomit at the sound of her undeserved praise. Forcing down my own tears, the rising bile in my throat and the words I so desperately want to confess to her, I just smile brightly at her accolades and hug her tightly once more.