It was a sunny, crisp morning when I stepped out of the car, my hands at my sides.
I’d never had to use a car seat before, and had never felt as uncomfortable as I did on the couch in the dark, empty apartment I was sharing with my boyfriend.
He was still asleep when I got into the car.
“I feel a little sick,” I said, turning on the ignition.
“How is it I can’t sit in the seat?”
He leaned forward, staring at me.
I didn’t answer, so he said, “It’s just not the same.”
He started to pull the recliner out, but I kept going, “I can’t,” I heard him say.
He pulled it out and I sat down in the reclined chair, my legs dangling in the air as I struggled to keep myself upright.
“Is this what I got myself into?”
I asked him, trying to stay calm.
“No,” he said.
“It can’t be this bad.
You’re never going to get used to this.”
I felt the seat come to rest on my chest, my stomach pressing against the top of my head.
My knees buckled as I let out a sigh of relief.
I got to my feet, looking around, but the couch was gone.
The sun was shining through the open windows, making it impossible to see the ocean.
The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air, but it was still hard to breathe.
I tried to breathe in, trying not to breathe out, trying my best to ignore the pain in my back.
It felt like the seat was going to be pushed down on me, and I just couldn’t let go.
“Don’t try this at home,” I told him.
I was in pain.
It wasn’t just my back, it was my lungs, my heart, my mind.
I kept asking him, “What are you doing?”
“I just don’t know,” he answered, his voice low.
“The pain is making me sick.”
I kept trying to tell him, that he should just take his medicine, but he was stubborn, and it hurt.
I felt sick to my stomach.
I had no idea how bad it was.
I could feel the heat of his breath, the pain from my legs, my back and chest.
He tried to comfort me, saying, “Just get some rest,” but he didn’t listen.
“Just relax,” he finally said.
And then, with a soft sigh, he turned to leave.
I saw him coming down the stairs.
“Please,” I whispered.
He stopped, turned and walked away.
I took off my seatbelt, and walked toward him, hands in my pockets.
He came over, hugged me and kissed me.
The tears started to fall, and he held me close, his eyes still closed.
He put his arms around me and held me for a long moment.
Then, he let me go, and then he turned back to the couch.
I looked at him and he smiled.
He leaned down and put his lips against mine.
“You’re the only person I have ever loved, and you’re the one I will always love,” he whispered.
The tears stopped.
“Thanks for everything,” I mumbled, letting go of him.
We walked back to our shared apartment, where I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I couldn’t move, unable to get my thoughts together.
I just wanted to cry, to cry.
I wanted to be alone, so I couldn´t feel sad or scared.
And so I cried for about an hour.
I don’t remember the last time I cried like this.
When I got home, I put my things away, went straight to sleep, and slept through the night.
That’s how much I cried, for that entire hour.
Then I started to think about the people I love.
What is the worst thing I could have done? I couldn�t sleep.
And that night, when I woke up, I didn´t remember anything.
I woke in the middle of the night to a voice I couldn`t make out, or hear.
It was someone telling me, “No, it can’t happen here.”
I opened my eyes and looked at myself.
I realized that I was standing in the doorway of my apartment, my apartment was empty, and my heart was pounding.
It hurt like hell.
I cried into the pillow, my arms wrapped around my chest.
I went to the bathroom and washed myself down with some water.
When my shower was done, I grabbed a towel, washed myself, and got out of bed.
I knew it was over, but not before I went through the