There’s no sun out today, no sweltering heat instead it’s been replaced by some much-needed rain. I can see the droplets on the window, slowly racing one another. With my outstretched arm, I reach for Maria, that’s right she isn’t there. She’s been gone a week, and a part of me misses her. I miss the messy blonde hair, the extra large t-shirt she stole from me and slept in every night, I just miss her being here. A feeling of guilt comes across me, after all, I’m the one who killed her. I think about how when we met I was reeling from my break with Nora. I never let her in, never let her see any vulnerability, I just couldn’t. I didn’t know how, trusting someone, being honest, open I just couldn’t do that with another human being again. Instead, I wrote everything down in the pages of a journal. Maria found that journal a week ago and now she’s dead. I came home one night, and she was sitting on the bed, she threw the remote at me and slapped me over and over until I finally pushed her onto the bed and pinned her there. I had no idea what was going on.
We sat on the bed, she was crying, and when I tried to console her, she tore away from me. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again!” She throws the journal at me but misses, and it hits the wall. The pages fall out of the book almost in slow motion. “You never loved me?” I didn’t love her. “Yes.” There’s a long pause, “So this has… this has been a lie?”
“Maria…” I get up off the bed; she grabs a pair of scissors. I think about lunging forward and letting her do it. “You fucking take one step and I swear to god.” I can feel the blood rush to my ears, and I grit my teeth. “Okay. Put the scissors down, and I’ll tell you everything.” She puts them down; I feel sick, I feel confused, nothing about this conversation is going to be easy. “When we met Nora, and I had just broken up. We’d dated for so long, shared such a history, I didn’t know how to let go, to accept it. I thought our break up was going to be temporary. It broke me, everything about me was broken when we met. And then before I left Nora told me that she loved me, but there was a reason we had to break up. She told me that I’d someday make her dream come true. You know what, that’s all I wanted to hear, but I wasn’t ready for her to love me again. She hurt me, and I didn’t want to let her back in because I was afraid she’d do it again. So I left, I needed to build myself back up again. The first few weeks I was in Sweden Nora, and I spoke every day, and then we started to fight. Maria, we met at a party while I was drunk. Every time we spoke I was drunk. When I was on that plane coming to Sweden, I felt so alone and just vulnerable. So I fucking drank, I drank everything away or at least I tried. Nora knew I was drinking and told me I had to stop; then she told me that it wasn’t her place to tell me what to do anymore. It was like she was gone. So I DRANK! I FUCKING DRANK! You know what drinking made me see? I’m a fucking mess, I loved Nora, but all I ever did was hurt her. I told you we lost a child. I never fucking told her that I was sad about it. I never told her that I was sorry, I never told her that it destroyed me. I never told her what Anna said. I just wrote them down. I hurt her all the fucking time.” I can see the tears cascading down her face because she knows what’s coming next. I hand her the tissue box: she muffles a thank you. “I didn’t want to feel this kind of pain again. I didn’t want to hurt someone. When we met, it was nice to have someone around to take my mind off of things. I had every intention of leaving and coming back home to Nora. But when I felt her pulling away I just got comfortable with you.” It’s the truth, it’s the cold hard truth, and I can see that she’s crushed. She takes a seat, “And you got a vasectomy?” I did. I didn’t want that anymore, I didn’t want to bring a kid into a loveless relationship. I didn’t want to care about it, about anything else other than myself. “Why would you do that?” Before I can say anything, she throws a glass against the wall. “I see why Nora broke up with you. All you ever do is think about your fucking self. You pretend to be this fucking sweet guy, the guy I thought you were but all you fucking think about is yourself. You think you can smile and just say sorry and it’ll be okay. You fucking hide behind your words and your fucking camera. Fucking coward. I wasted my time with you. Sasha, I loved you. I thought you were it. I’m … You made me think that something was wrong with me. That I couldn’t have kids. I can’t believe I… I hate myself. I moved away for you.” She’s crying again. “I can’t believe this. Everything …you’re a monster.” That was the last thing she told me; and it was the last time I saw her too. The next morning I left for Milan.
When I came back, I remember there was a massive storm that day, and the trains and buses were backed up and being rerouted due to the flooding. So I decided to grab a coffee before I made my way to the cab. When I was waiting in line, I saw the news story that someone had jumped onto the tracks along the Lakeshore West line, further adding to the already mounting traffic problem. Such a messy way to go is what I thought. My mom lives close to Pearson so I called her and asked if I could spend the night. I knew trying to get back into the city would be a nightmare. I called Maria after and left a message telling her I hoped she was on the train okay and that I’d be spending the night at my mom’s place. But she never got back to me. Instead, she saw the text and as the train approached she calmly walked in front of the westbound train.