Dear Ana: Chapter 19

Everybody froze.

The world froze and stopped spinning on its axis. The wind froze and stopped mid-blow. Even the clouds froze and stopped crying snowflakes.

Noah was the first to move. He looked down at me, completely dumbfounded.

“No, Mom, this is Maya . . .” he whispered, his voice suddenly uncertain.

“. . . Ibrahim,” she finished.

He continued to stare at me, analyzing my face carefully “That’s because you do know me,” he repeated my words from only minutes ago.

And that was it. The last puzzle piece finally clicked into place in Noah’s mind.

“Oh my God,” he said, taking a step away from me.

“Noah, please, just let me explain,” I said quickly.

“Explain? You knew this whole time and you never said anything? How could you do that to him?” his mother demanded angrily.

This can’t be happening.

“Honey, let’s just . . . let them talk,” Mr. Bennet intervened before things escalated.

She glared at me for another minute and stalked away with her husband, disappearing around the corner.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” Noah spoke from behind me. I turned to face him, my heart breaking at his betrayed expression. “Tell me you haven’t known this entire time. Tell me you haven’t been lying to me this entire time.”

“It’s not what you think. Just let me explain.”

He looked at me expectantly, waiting, but my mind suddenly went blank. Why hadn’t I prepared for this? Why hadn’t I prepared what I would say when he inevitably found out? God, I was so stupid.

“Why aren’t you talking?”

“I . . .”

But nothing came out. All the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“Show me,” he said suddenly.

“Show you what?”

“Show me,” he repeated, looking pointedly at my chest.

A wave of unease washed over me as I realized what he was asking, but he couldn’t be serious. How was that going to help anyone? But the longer I stared into his hectic eyes, the more I realized how completely serious he was.

“Noah,” I pleaded quietly. “Please don’t––”

“I said show me!” he demanded loudly and I flinched away from his sudden hostility. He regretted his tone instantly, the words I’m sorry burning behind his stare, but it was too late. I finally came face to face with the anger I’d convinced myself he didn’t possess.

I took an unsteady breath and unbuttoned his jacket, ignoring the cold wind whipping harshly at my newly exposed skin. I pulled down the collar of my shirt with shaky fingers and exposed the deep, long scar that ran down my chest.

He sucked in an intense breath, closing his eyes at the sight.

“I can’t believe you,” he said quietly. “I can’t believe this whole time I’ve been trying to prove myself to you . . . I was trying to make you trust me, but you were the one lying.”

“I’m so sorry,” I told him, my voice trembling.

“I don’t want your apologies, Maya. I want you to tell me that this is a joke. That my mom mistook you for someone else. That you haven’t been playing me––”

“I wasn’t playing you––”

“You fucking knew who I was. You knew who I was when we met and instead of telling me the truth when I asked who you were, you lied.”

“I didn’t know who you were, Noah,” I explained. “I didn’t even know who Ana was, only her name.”

“What makes you think I can believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth? You’re a liar.”

I was a liar.

“All those moments you spent asking me about her . . . asking about our time in the foster homes . . . I thought you wanted to know me, but you didn’t. You wanted to know Ana, and you were using me to do it.”

I was insufferable.

He looked at me again, eyes filled with hurt. “Do you have any idea how devastating it is to realize that the best part of my life was fake?”

I brought destruction with me everywhere I went.

“I mean, was anything real?”

“It was real,” I insisted.

He shook his head. “Give me my key.”

“What?”

“The key to my café, Maya. Please.” His voice was taught with repressed emotion. Even now, when he had every right to lash out, he was holding himself back.

I did what he asked, not wanting to rile him up further. My fingers were shaking hard, but I eventually removed it from my keychain and handed it to him. He snatched it from my hand and started to walk away.

“Wait, where are you going?” I asked, following him.

“I’m leaving.” His harsh voice flew back at me through the wind. “Isn’t that what you always do when things get tough? Now you know how much you’ve influenced my life.”

“Just let me explain,” I begged, reaching out for his hand but he pulled away immediately.

“I gave you time to explain, I’m not waiting anymore. I’m done, Maya, we’re done.”

His words pierced through me sharply.

“What?”

“We’re done,” he repeated, facing me again. “I can’t––”

He stopped. A flicker of hope went off inside me but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the black pickup truck that was always parked up front.

He finally met my gaze and I inhaled sharply at his expression. He looked absolutely horrified, and his eyes were wide with disbelief.

“No,” he whispered franticly. “No, no, no, no––”

“Noah, what’s wrong?” I asked, my eyes raking over him to see if he was suddenly hurt. I stepped toward him but he backed away. He gave me one last tortured look, before quickly turning away and heading to the door of his café.

“Noah, wait!” I called after him. I was only a step behind him when he slammed the door in my face.

What just happened?

Did he just . . . break up with me?

No. No, there was no way.

I hesitated for a minute before knocking on the door. “Noah?”

Silence.

I knocked again, harder this time. “Noah!”

Silence.

A rush of dread crashed over me as the minutes ticked on. I continued to knock, each bang louder than the next, pleading with him to open the door but he never did. His last words rang loudly in my ears, blocking any other thought from entering my mind. I was trembling. Something was breaking inside me. My eyes were blurry and I struggled to keep myself in check until something between a scream and a sob finally escaped from my lips as I crumbled to the floor at the foot of his door. Betrayal and pain, stronger than I had ever experienced were colliding into me from every angle, burying me under a mountain of rubble and destruction until I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. His infinite silence was an iron rod shredding me to pieces until I was just a pile of sizzling flesh on the concrete. I couldn’t handle this. I needed to turn this torture off. I needed it to stop, please, God, make it stop––

“You know what, Noah? Fuck you!”

It worked. The pain was gone . . . but something else had to take its place.

“You could’ve left me alone!” I shouted at the door, smacking my fist into the glass roughly. “I told you to leave me alone! I gave you an out but you stayed! You stayed, and you pinky fucking promised you would be patient and that you’d be there for me. You pulled me into your arms with your sweet and kind words, and made me trust you! You forced me into your life and made me rely on you, just so you could throw me out onto the streets and stab me in the back!” I smacked my forehead against the door, desperately welcoming the throbbing pain so it could diminish the agony crushing my chest. “You ruined everything I spent years trying to build, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”

I continued to hit the door with my hands, letting that new but old anger infect me completely, taking pleasure in its toxicity.

“God, you think you can hurt me, Noah? You don’t know what it takes to live my life!” I screamed, my resolve slowly breaking down. “You don’t know the kind of excruciating pain I have felt! You don’t know how long I’ve suffered alone, over and over, day after day! The agonizing torture never ends for me, so this,” I pointed at him through the shuddering doorframe, “is nothing! It’s fucking nothing!”

My fists were still hitting the door robotically, bruised and bloody from the force of the impact. I rested my forehead on the door as the numbness finally started to seep in, protecting me from my emotions.

“You think you can hate me, Noah?” I whispered. The only way he could still hear me was if he was leaning directly on the other side of the door. “Well, you better get to the back of the fucking line,” I chuckled humorlessly. “Actually, don’t even bother getting in line. You could never feel even an ounce of the amount of hatred that I already feel for myself.”

I turned away and stormed back to my car, remnants of my anger still pulsing through my body where the numbness hadn’t yet reached. I turned my key in the ignition and stepped on the break, but before I moved the gearshift something caught my eye.

The flowers from earlier tucked under the passenger seat.

I made sure the car was still in park and reached for them, gently brushing the white petals. How could a day that started so amazing, end in such a terrible way? I carefully took out the folded note and smoothed it open.

Maya, You told me once that to fear something meant to obsess over it. To memorize it. To learn everything and anything there is to know about it, but I disagree. I think that’s what it means to love something because that’s how I feel about you. If anything, Maya, the only thing I fear about you is that you’ll never love me back. But even that isn’t enough to diminish my feelings. Whether or not I can have your heart, I’ll continue to love you more than I did yesterday, and I know I’ll love you more tomorrow than I did today.

–your Noah.

And there it was. I wanted to know how he felt before I told him the truth and he had already written it down for me, waiting in my car, this entire time. Was love really so fragile that it could disintegrate within minutes, or was it just the love that people felt for me? How could I love you turn into I hate you so quickly?

A harsh sob shook through my entire body and suddenly I was crying. Over a fucking boy. He wasn’t just a boy, though. He was warm and soft and safe, and I was kind of, sort of, sincerely and wholeheartedly in love with him and he seemed to think that he was in love with me too––sad, mean, difficult me––and now . . . now he was broken because of me. I was so determined to never let another man hurt me, that I went and did the hurting instead. I took the excellent, top-notch, exceptionally fucking splendid boy and ruined him.

A chuckle slipped through with the tears and I couldn’t tell if I was laughing or crying anymore. How was it possible to fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to me to the point of no return? I mean, this was it. It was over. There were no words, no apologies, no explanations that could ever repair the damage I’d caused. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to fix this––he had every right to hate me. I just wanted him to know that it wasn’t all a lie. I needed him to know that it wasn’t a game to me. But how could I get him to listen to me long enough to understand?

My thoughts drifted to the back corner of my closet, where it sat hidden . . .

I quickly put my car into reverse and backed out of the parking space, before racing back home. I could survive if he didn’t want to be with me anymore, but I couldn’t live with myself if he had to spend another second hurting because he thought my feelings were fake.

I slammed on the brakes in front of my house with a screech, not bothering to turn off the engine before running to the door.

52 steps––

Shut up.

I hastily unlocked the door with a bang and ran up the stairs with my shoes still on.

“Maya?” I heard my mom call from downstairs. I ignored her, not even seeing them sitting in the living room when I came in. I flew to my closet and started chucking clothes left and right until I saw my childhood jacket. I shoved my hand into the sleeve, desperately searching until my fingers finally landed on the smooth leather of my journal. I pulled it out and ran my hand over the bound cover. I hadn’t touched this thing in years. What was the point of writing in it anymore? I had eventually decided that I was going to . . .

I shoved the thought from my brain before it could fester with my emotions and distract me. I didn’t have time to go down memory lane, but hopefully, Noah would. I ran out of my room and down the stairs but was immediately stopped by my mother who was standing in front of the door.

“Maya!” she gasped. “What happened?”

In my haste to give my journal to Noah, I had completely forgotten what I must’ve looked like.

“Nothing,” I said, stepping around her. “I’ll be back. There’s something I have to do.”

“It’s late, you’re not going anywhere,” she insisted, taking my arm.

I slipped my arm away gently and took another step toward the door. I would explain later; I didn’t have time right now––

I felt another hand wrap around my arm tightly and I stiffened. Terror flooded through me, gluing my feet to the ground, not letting me escape.

“Mama said no, Maya,” Mikhail scolded from behind me. My body started to tremble at his sudden proximity. I closed my eyes and took a staggering breath, begging myself not to start hyperventilating.

“Let go of me,” I demanded.

He didn’t fall for my act of strength.

“I said let go,” I repeated louder and to my surprise, I felt his hand release me. I stalked outside, forcing myself to keep it up. As soon as I heard him slam the door shut behind me my fake strength disappeared and I stopped, almost falling to the ground. I leaned against my car unsteadily.

He let go so easily––

“Shut up,” I whispered. Out loud this time. I looked back at my house, at Mikhail, 52 steps away. I looked at my car, still running, waiting for me. At the flowers, at the note, at Noah, waiting for me.

I faced my house again. Noah could wait.

“One.”

After seven tries and finally 52 steps later, I found myself in front of Espresso & Chill. I realized as I went up to the door that I had no clue what I was going to say.

“Noah?” I called, knocking on the door despite my swollen knuckles. “It’s Maya.”

I waited a few seconds, not shocked when the door remained closed.

“I don’t know if you’re there or not, or if you can hear me or not but I’m just going to talk anyway,” I said into the door. I placed my hand against the frame and imagined Noah on the other side, his hand pressed against mine. “I am . . . so sorry for the things I said earlier. I was hurt and overwhelmed, and instead of accepting responsibility for my actions I decided to blame you.” I felt my eyes well up for the hundredth time today. “You didn’t deserve anything I said, and I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath to steady myself. “That’s not all I’m sorry for. I’m sorry I lied to you about how I knew Ana. I should have told you the truth when you asked me at her grave, but I was scared. I was scared that you would get . . . angry. But you have every right to be angry, Noah. I took the one thing that could have given her life and shoved it into myself instead.

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again after that, and I had no idea who you were and that you worked here, I swear. My co-worker told me about this new café downtown and I decided to try it out. I always went to the same Starbucks every day after work and I wanted to be spontaneous and try something different,” I chuckled. “I know it sounds silly, but that’s how boring and depressing my life was.”

I leaned my head on the door, closing my eyes. “I recognized you immediately and I tried to leave, but you caught up to me and,” the tears started to spill over, one by one, “I felt something between us almost immediately. Your presence kindled this powerful flare of emotions inside me and it felt . . . it was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, so when you asked me to have coffee with you, I said yes. I should’ve declined, but I said yes instead because I wanted to know you, just once. But then once turned into twice, and I couldn’t stop myself anymore.

“I hated myself for lying to you, Noah, I still do, but I don’t regret it. How could I regret meeting you, when meeting you felt like the one-billion-pound elephant finally lifted one of its feet off my chest? The other three were still pressing down but it was okay because I wasn’t suffocating anymore. I was so sad, Noah. I was so miserable and I was dealing with so much, and you . . . you made me feel better. You made me feel better without even knowing about any of the things going on in my life.” I paused, the truth behind my words was almost too much to bear. “I was constantly floating around, rarely connecting with people and just silently observing others live their lives to the fullest from the sidelines. You were the first person who ever fought for me. Who noticed my absence. Who felt it when I was suffering. You saw through my façade and despite the broken mess you found hiding, you still wanted to know me. The real me.

“For so long, my identity was deeply rooted into being single. I got so used to being no one’s first choice and going through life alone, that I didn’t know how to live any other way. My solitude was my safety net . . . until you.” I knelt down, not having the strength to hold myself up anymore. “Every day that went by it got harder and harder for me to tell you the truth because I didn’t want this to end. I told myself this morning that as soon as you told me how you felt, I would tell you about Ana because if you truly cared about me then . . . we could get through anything. But there was no reason to wait because you had already shown me how you felt over and over again.”

I wiped my eyes and sniffed vigorously. “I get it if you . . . never want to see me again. You deserve so much better than what I can give you, and I hope you find what you’re looking for. There is something though.” I placed the journal down carefully. “I always felt connected to Ana, from the moment I heard her name at the hospital. I felt responsible for her death even though I never wanted to have her heart. I wrote her letters for years and I want you to have them. I want you to read them so maybe you can believe me. So you can understand me and . . . why I am the way that I am.” I traced the door, what I wished was Noah’s face, one last time. “Thank you for being my comfort person. You’re such a bright light in this world, I hope you know that. I hope you know I appreciate you more than I will ever be able to express. No matter how this ends . . . thank you for being here.”

My hand dropped limply to my side. “For what it’s worth, I tried not to like you. I tried even harder not to love you, but it was just too easy, too effortless, too right. If you can only accept one thing as the truth, accept this: it was real for me, Noah, I just wish it was still real for you. It was real, you and I . . . I just wish you and I weren’t past tense. Goodbye.”

I stayed for a moment, clinging onto that last shred of hope. Grasping at the strings of the life jacket he’d once provided me with but was now trying to snatch back.

Silence.

Not just from Noah, but from Ana as well. I stopped hearing her beats blaring in my ear the second he found out.

I nodded in understanding and walked back to my car.

Nobody ever believed me.