Save Your Heart
Realization
”Abigail, please, just wait one minute, please, please!”
It resonated in my head. The hurt in his voice, the way his eyes shattered the second I started to back away from him. A small part of my heart broke when I heard the threat of tears in his voice, that after all of this time he was still hurting. A part of me loved it. I absolutely loved that he was still hurting like I was, that I wasn’t the pathetic one still trying to move on from such a devastating blow.
Tears stung my eyes as the cold air whipped at my bare face. The pain was welcoming in a strange way. Anything that could break the mind from such a poisonous subject would be welcomed, even if I was kidnapped or hit by a train. Anything, anything to get my mind off of him, and his eyes, and his soft touch.
My stomach contorted in an uncomfortable way sending a wave of sickness crashing over me. I slowly came to a walk when I reached the busy streets of the city. Making my way through the people, my eyes stuck to the ground, not finding the courage or energy to keep my head up. Tears were still pushing through my eyes, and the pure shock of the whole situation kept me in a daze. A daze that kept my head focused on one thing the whole walk home, one set of eyes, one soft hand, one broken voice, one name; Ryan.
The stairs up to the fourth floor of the building killed the sore muscles in my legs. I didn’t care. The elevator was too small for me, filled with too many people that could see my face. How pathetic I was. I strived for loneliness, the sweet silence of laying in bed with nothing around me. My thoughts were pushing at the barrier of my mind, trying to get through. I wanted to think, I wanted to cry. I wanted to figure this mess out, once and for all. For months I tried to push these thoughts away, to push my mistake away. I couldn’t do it anymore.
The NHL was in a lockout. Ryan was in Michigan. I was bound to run into him again, we lived in the same area. We grew up in the same town. By some strange forces of nature, we were linked. We would run into each other constantly. Why? I would never know the real answer. I may sound crazy, but after a while on this Earth, you catch onto it’s little tricks. This was one of them.
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Sophia had left a note on the front of the bathroom door. The brunettes neat handwriting indicated that she had went out with some guys from the team, she would be home some time at night. Then on the bottom of the piece of paper, in her tiny little bubble writing, was a p.s.
[i]I’m just a phone call away[/i]
Ripping the paper off the door, I placed it on the couch and walked into the bathroom. Quickly turning on the hot water, I peeled my sweat filed clothes off my sore body and stepped into the shower. The hot water beating against my skin sent a smile onto my face. It made my muscles relax, it made my mind relax.
A twenty minute shower was enough for my skin to feel fresh, my hair to smell like a weird mixture of berries and vanilla, and my mind to be steady and clear enough to allow thoughts about him to pass through. Wrapping a towel tightly around my frame, I walked into my room and shut the door. I slipped into the first tee shirt I saw on my dresser. It was an old Manitoba Moose tee shirt, the smell of the man that previously wore it washed out through numerous trips through the washing machine. About four if I remember correctly.
After finding a pair of underwear and my baggy high school sweatpants, I curled up in my queen sized bed. Pulling the dark blue sheets off of the floor and over my head, I shut my eyes and took in the warmth from my bed. I wanted to just sleep. I wanted to drift into a dark thoughtless abyss, but the second my eyes wandered to the name on my sweatpants, Winston Churchill High School, memories flooded my brain. Memories from when we met, memories that played in my head like home videos. Word for word, every scene crisp and clear like I was back in time.
[b] September 25, 1999[/b]
A tall blonde boy held a piece of paper in his hand. His bright blue eyes squinted, trying to read the small print that was on it. While he did this, a slim girl with a black and teal backpack stood there, head hung low, tears threatening to push past her bright green eyes. “Abigail Baker”, the blonde mocked in a deep voice. The girl shrunk as a few older kids walked up behind the blonde. “Look at this cute little drawing you have here, wouldn’t it be such a shame if...”
The small sound of paper ripping echoed through the girls head. “Hey!” She screamed and went to grab it when a boy from behind her extended his arm and shoved her back against the wall. Head slamming into the cement, the tears she was trying to conceal pushed through and flowed down her cheeks. “Can’t you leave me alone, Adam?” She snarled her voice steady. She was tired of this, tired of getting picked on and tortured by these kids. The girl understood, she knew she was weird, oddly mature for her age, quiet, kept to herself, and an easy target. But she thought these childish games would fade over the summer into high school. She was wrong.
“I suggest you shut up you little freak. What are you-”
“Why don’t you shut up, Adam?” The girl quickly jerked her eyes up, following the tall brunette boy that pushed her away from the blonde and took her place. Tearing the piece of paper from the blonde’s hands the boy blindly handed it back to Abigail, and proceeded to explain in detail what the blonde should go do to himself.
Once the blonde scowled at Ryan after a nice reminder that Ryan could pound him into mush, the brunette turned to the girl, pushing some of her dark brown hair out of her face. “You alright?” His eyes traced over her, making her cheeks bright red. “Abigail was it?” The girl silently nodded. She had never seen this boy before, he must have lived on the other side of town. That would be the only explanation as to why they never met, why he was being nice to her. Ryan put his hand on her shoulder and asked her to direct him to her locker. She did as she was told, and as soon as she got there, she looked up at the boy, expecting him to leave. He didn’t. He pressed his back against the row of lockers opposite hers and stared out into the hallway, as if he was a watchdog guarding a precious gem.
“You didn’t have to do that”, she whispered finally finding her voice. Abigail had grown up looking after herself and her sister. She never needed her mother, she never needed anyone. She didn’t need some guy saving her for no reason, probably wanting something in return. The small girl knew how guys were, especially high school guys. She had dreams about guys, about love, but she knew they were dreams.
The boy looked taken back. His eyebrows furrowed and he took a step closer to her. “I was helping, it looked like you needed some back-up”, he glanced at the picture in her hands. An amazingly drawn picture of the Minnesota North Stars arena. “You like the north stars?”
Her head tilted to the side, blood rushing to make her rosy cheeks a deep red. “What are you going to make f-”
“They’re my favorite team, and thats a really good picture.”
“There’s a tear in it now. I don’t even want it.”
“I do”, he took the picture out of the girls hands and examined it. It was water color, a swirl of colors making Ryan’s eyes widen at how much talent the girl had for only being in high school. “You’re really good”, when he looked up from the drawing, the locker aisle was empty. His heart thumped in his chest roughly as he quickly ran into the hall and looked both ways, until he caught a glimpse of the dark brown curls cascading down the girls back, swaying in the wind as she walked around the corner and toward the exit to the front of the school.
“Hey! Abby, wait up!” He ran after her, desperate to catch up to her. A part of him needed to be by her, speak to her, watch the emotions run through her green eyes. It was strange, his new infatuation with this girl, but he didn’t care how weird it was. He just wanted to be around her. There was something about her, a vibe she gave off that made Ryan want more.
When he had finally caught up to her, she was walking down the sidewalk in front of the school, heading in the direction of her house and her sister’s middle school. “Hey”, Ryan breathed as he caught up with her, clearly out of breath. He ran and did way more vigorous exercises then running after a girl, but his heart had never been beating this fast during drills.
“What”, she glanced over and straightened her back sighing lightly. “If you think I [i]owe[/i] you something for-”
“I just want to be your friend”, the words caused the girl to stop dead in her tracks. When Ryan noticed her pause, he turned to her with a small friendly smile. He didn’t want to kiss her. He didn’t want to tear her clothes off. He just wanted to be around her, talk to her, find out who she was, where she lived, what she liked to do, everything and anything she wanted to share.
Shaking her head, the brunette walked passed him and didn’t look back to see if he was following her. The boy followed her, quietly walking next to her like a small puppy trying to get some attention. “I have to pick up my sister from school”, the sound of her voice made the smile creep on Ryan’s face. “Then we were going to go to the pond and skate a little, you’re welcome to join us.. Uhm..” She turned her face to the boy who was already staring at her, eyes sparkling. With a sly smile, he nodded and stepped a little closer to her.
“Ryan, call me Ry”, he whispered. Sharing a smile, they both turned away from each other, a light pink grazing their cheeks.
“Call me Abs”, she gave him a huge smile as he nodded. The two teens walked in silence the rest of the way to the middle school. The whole time the boy was going crazy, wanting to start drilling her with questions, finding out every little thing about her, but at the same time the perfect silence they had kept him content.
As the school came into view, Abigail looked over at the boy, his eyes bright and his smile wide. When he noticed her staring, he glanced over and scrunched up his face making her giggle. As their eyes locked together, something started to burn in the pit of her stomach. That smile, those eyes, the way she felt all combined and with that little spark, that little stare they shared started a raging fire in the pit of her stomach. A fire that burnt for that boy. It warmed her whole body, melting away the cage that the butterflies in her stomach were caged by. At that moment, with these feelings rushing through her body, she felt like maybe her dreams weren’t just dreams. Maybe her dreams about love and good hearted people were real.
Ryan Kesler made her dreams come true. Ryan Kesler showed her love existed. Not right away, not all a once, but from the time that they met, to the day that he asked her out senior year. He showed her that dreams of love and a perfect guy were real.
He was perfect.
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“Perfect!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, mocking my mind. “You call this perfect, you call what he did perfect?” As my throat pushed up words, it felt like I was coughing up razor blades. My throat was raw, and as tons of memories flooded my head - promises, dates, hang outs, kisses, late nights, anything that had Ryan connected to it - it started to pound worse than any other migraine I had ever endured. Sentences Ryan had spoke forced themselves through all of the other thoughts, his deep voice rocking my brain. As I shut my eyes and remembered the love filled confessions, the nights were I thought we were infinite, the random mentions of the ring he would buy, the team he would be drafted to, the children we would have, I started to weep. Tears gushing out of my eyes, sobs rocking my body, echoing through the empty apartment.
I wanted it back. I wanted to feel like someone lived for me, the way I lived for them. But I didn’t want him back. I could never take him back. No matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much my body yearned for his touch, I would never do that to myself. I was not my mother. I was not weak.
I was Abigail Baker. I was stronger than that. I was stronger than this.
Wiping the tears from my face, I crawled off of my bed and quickly changed into a sweatshirt and jeans. Applying some make-up, I grabbed my keys and my cell phone and walked out of the apartment. I was done feeling sorry for myself, I was finished crying over him. I was done hiding from him, hiding from the past.
Abigail Baker needed to come back. I wanted my dreams back. I wanted my life back.
I was half way to the local grocery store. My mind was pumping up my self confidence while simultaneously praying to god for a little tug out of my depressing life. All of the fuss in my brain let me slip into an oblivious state that was quickly corrected by a hard blow to my body. A shoulder collided with mine and my sleek smartphone flew from my hands and skidded across the rocky sidewalk until it was stopped by someone’s foot. Grinding my teeth, not up to see the damage of my phone, I followed its trail and as I was about to pick it up, a large hand closed around it. Looking up, my eyes connected with deep brown ones.
“I’m so sorry about that”, his voice held an accent, one I recognized but couldn’t put a finger on. “Wow, it’s.. I feel like an asshole.” He placed the phone in my hand as we stood back up. My eyes quickly surveyed the damage. The screen was cracked in two, with deep scratches and chips along the black paint around the screen. Wincing, i hit the top button and watched the lock screen light up.
Shaking my head, I went to open my mouth when I finally saw who I was speaking to. He was tall, well built, and had a smile on him that would make anyone’s knees weak. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. When he noticed my dilemma, a soft apologetic smile surfaced on his lips that made my heart flutter and every thought that had been pounding in my head fade away.
“I’m Alex.”
It resonated in my head. The hurt in his voice, the way his eyes shattered the second I started to back away from him. A small part of my heart broke when I heard the threat of tears in his voice, that after all of this time he was still hurting. A part of me loved it. I absolutely loved that he was still hurting like I was, that I wasn’t the pathetic one still trying to move on from such a devastating blow.
Tears stung my eyes as the cold air whipped at my bare face. The pain was welcoming in a strange way. Anything that could break the mind from such a poisonous subject would be welcomed, even if I was kidnapped or hit by a train. Anything, anything to get my mind off of him, and his eyes, and his soft touch.
My stomach contorted in an uncomfortable way sending a wave of sickness crashing over me. I slowly came to a walk when I reached the busy streets of the city. Making my way through the people, my eyes stuck to the ground, not finding the courage or energy to keep my head up. Tears were still pushing through my eyes, and the pure shock of the whole situation kept me in a daze. A daze that kept my head focused on one thing the whole walk home, one set of eyes, one soft hand, one broken voice, one name; Ryan.
The stairs up to the fourth floor of the building killed the sore muscles in my legs. I didn’t care. The elevator was too small for me, filled with too many people that could see my face. How pathetic I was. I strived for loneliness, the sweet silence of laying in bed with nothing around me. My thoughts were pushing at the barrier of my mind, trying to get through. I wanted to think, I wanted to cry. I wanted to figure this mess out, once and for all. For months I tried to push these thoughts away, to push my mistake away. I couldn’t do it anymore.
The NHL was in a lockout. Ryan was in Michigan. I was bound to run into him again, we lived in the same area. We grew up in the same town. By some strange forces of nature, we were linked. We would run into each other constantly. Why? I would never know the real answer. I may sound crazy, but after a while on this Earth, you catch onto it’s little tricks. This was one of them.
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Sophia had left a note on the front of the bathroom door. The brunettes neat handwriting indicated that she had went out with some guys from the team, she would be home some time at night. Then on the bottom of the piece of paper, in her tiny little bubble writing, was a p.s.
[i]I’m just a phone call away[/i]
Ripping the paper off the door, I placed it on the couch and walked into the bathroom. Quickly turning on the hot water, I peeled my sweat filed clothes off my sore body and stepped into the shower. The hot water beating against my skin sent a smile onto my face. It made my muscles relax, it made my mind relax.
A twenty minute shower was enough for my skin to feel fresh, my hair to smell like a weird mixture of berries and vanilla, and my mind to be steady and clear enough to allow thoughts about him to pass through. Wrapping a towel tightly around my frame, I walked into my room and shut the door. I slipped into the first tee shirt I saw on my dresser. It was an old Manitoba Moose tee shirt, the smell of the man that previously wore it washed out through numerous trips through the washing machine. About four if I remember correctly.
After finding a pair of underwear and my baggy high school sweatpants, I curled up in my queen sized bed. Pulling the dark blue sheets off of the floor and over my head, I shut my eyes and took in the warmth from my bed. I wanted to just sleep. I wanted to drift into a dark thoughtless abyss, but the second my eyes wandered to the name on my sweatpants, Winston Churchill High School, memories flooded my brain. Memories from when we met, memories that played in my head like home videos. Word for word, every scene crisp and clear like I was back in time.
[b] September 25, 1999[/b]
A tall blonde boy held a piece of paper in his hand. His bright blue eyes squinted, trying to read the small print that was on it. While he did this, a slim girl with a black and teal backpack stood there, head hung low, tears threatening to push past her bright green eyes. “Abigail Baker”, the blonde mocked in a deep voice. The girl shrunk as a few older kids walked up behind the blonde. “Look at this cute little drawing you have here, wouldn’t it be such a shame if...”
The small sound of paper ripping echoed through the girls head. “Hey!” She screamed and went to grab it when a boy from behind her extended his arm and shoved her back against the wall. Head slamming into the cement, the tears she was trying to conceal pushed through and flowed down her cheeks. “Can’t you leave me alone, Adam?” She snarled her voice steady. She was tired of this, tired of getting picked on and tortured by these kids. The girl understood, she knew she was weird, oddly mature for her age, quiet, kept to herself, and an easy target. But she thought these childish games would fade over the summer into high school. She was wrong.
“I suggest you shut up you little freak. What are you-”
“Why don’t you shut up, Adam?” The girl quickly jerked her eyes up, following the tall brunette boy that pushed her away from the blonde and took her place. Tearing the piece of paper from the blonde’s hands the boy blindly handed it back to Abigail, and proceeded to explain in detail what the blonde should go do to himself.
Once the blonde scowled at Ryan after a nice reminder that Ryan could pound him into mush, the brunette turned to the girl, pushing some of her dark brown hair out of her face. “You alright?” His eyes traced over her, making her cheeks bright red. “Abigail was it?” The girl silently nodded. She had never seen this boy before, he must have lived on the other side of town. That would be the only explanation as to why they never met, why he was being nice to her. Ryan put his hand on her shoulder and asked her to direct him to her locker. She did as she was told, and as soon as she got there, she looked up at the boy, expecting him to leave. He didn’t. He pressed his back against the row of lockers opposite hers and stared out into the hallway, as if he was a watchdog guarding a precious gem.
“You didn’t have to do that”, she whispered finally finding her voice. Abigail had grown up looking after herself and her sister. She never needed her mother, she never needed anyone. She didn’t need some guy saving her for no reason, probably wanting something in return. The small girl knew how guys were, especially high school guys. She had dreams about guys, about love, but she knew they were dreams.
The boy looked taken back. His eyebrows furrowed and he took a step closer to her. “I was helping, it looked like you needed some back-up”, he glanced at the picture in her hands. An amazingly drawn picture of the Minnesota North Stars arena. “You like the north stars?”
Her head tilted to the side, blood rushing to make her rosy cheeks a deep red. “What are you going to make f-”
“They’re my favorite team, and thats a really good picture.”
“There’s a tear in it now. I don’t even want it.”
“I do”, he took the picture out of the girls hands and examined it. It was water color, a swirl of colors making Ryan’s eyes widen at how much talent the girl had for only being in high school. “You’re really good”, when he looked up from the drawing, the locker aisle was empty. His heart thumped in his chest roughly as he quickly ran into the hall and looked both ways, until he caught a glimpse of the dark brown curls cascading down the girls back, swaying in the wind as she walked around the corner and toward the exit to the front of the school.
“Hey! Abby, wait up!” He ran after her, desperate to catch up to her. A part of him needed to be by her, speak to her, watch the emotions run through her green eyes. It was strange, his new infatuation with this girl, but he didn’t care how weird it was. He just wanted to be around her. There was something about her, a vibe she gave off that made Ryan want more.
When he had finally caught up to her, she was walking down the sidewalk in front of the school, heading in the direction of her house and her sister’s middle school. “Hey”, Ryan breathed as he caught up with her, clearly out of breath. He ran and did way more vigorous exercises then running after a girl, but his heart had never been beating this fast during drills.
“What”, she glanced over and straightened her back sighing lightly. “If you think I [i]owe[/i] you something for-”
“I just want to be your friend”, the words caused the girl to stop dead in her tracks. When Ryan noticed her pause, he turned to her with a small friendly smile. He didn’t want to kiss her. He didn’t want to tear her clothes off. He just wanted to be around her, talk to her, find out who she was, where she lived, what she liked to do, everything and anything she wanted to share.
Shaking her head, the brunette walked passed him and didn’t look back to see if he was following her. The boy followed her, quietly walking next to her like a small puppy trying to get some attention. “I have to pick up my sister from school”, the sound of her voice made the smile creep on Ryan’s face. “Then we were going to go to the pond and skate a little, you’re welcome to join us.. Uhm..” She turned her face to the boy who was already staring at her, eyes sparkling. With a sly smile, he nodded and stepped a little closer to her.
“Ryan, call me Ry”, he whispered. Sharing a smile, they both turned away from each other, a light pink grazing their cheeks.
“Call me Abs”, she gave him a huge smile as he nodded. The two teens walked in silence the rest of the way to the middle school. The whole time the boy was going crazy, wanting to start drilling her with questions, finding out every little thing about her, but at the same time the perfect silence they had kept him content.
As the school came into view, Abigail looked over at the boy, his eyes bright and his smile wide. When he noticed her staring, he glanced over and scrunched up his face making her giggle. As their eyes locked together, something started to burn in the pit of her stomach. That smile, those eyes, the way she felt all combined and with that little spark, that little stare they shared started a raging fire in the pit of her stomach. A fire that burnt for that boy. It warmed her whole body, melting away the cage that the butterflies in her stomach were caged by. At that moment, with these feelings rushing through her body, she felt like maybe her dreams weren’t just dreams. Maybe her dreams about love and good hearted people were real.
Ryan Kesler made her dreams come true. Ryan Kesler showed her love existed. Not right away, not all a once, but from the time that they met, to the day that he asked her out senior year. He showed her that dreams of love and a perfect guy were real.
He was perfect.
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“Perfect!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, mocking my mind. “You call this perfect, you call what he did perfect?” As my throat pushed up words, it felt like I was coughing up razor blades. My throat was raw, and as tons of memories flooded my head - promises, dates, hang outs, kisses, late nights, anything that had Ryan connected to it - it started to pound worse than any other migraine I had ever endured. Sentences Ryan had spoke forced themselves through all of the other thoughts, his deep voice rocking my brain. As I shut my eyes and remembered the love filled confessions, the nights were I thought we were infinite, the random mentions of the ring he would buy, the team he would be drafted to, the children we would have, I started to weep. Tears gushing out of my eyes, sobs rocking my body, echoing through the empty apartment.
I wanted it back. I wanted to feel like someone lived for me, the way I lived for them. But I didn’t want him back. I could never take him back. No matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much my body yearned for his touch, I would never do that to myself. I was not my mother. I was not weak.
I was Abigail Baker. I was stronger than that. I was stronger than this.
Wiping the tears from my face, I crawled off of my bed and quickly changed into a sweatshirt and jeans. Applying some make-up, I grabbed my keys and my cell phone and walked out of the apartment. I was done feeling sorry for myself, I was finished crying over him. I was done hiding from him, hiding from the past.
Abigail Baker needed to come back. I wanted my dreams back. I wanted my life back.
I was half way to the local grocery store. My mind was pumping up my self confidence while simultaneously praying to god for a little tug out of my depressing life. All of the fuss in my brain let me slip into an oblivious state that was quickly corrected by a hard blow to my body. A shoulder collided with mine and my sleek smartphone flew from my hands and skidded across the rocky sidewalk until it was stopped by someone’s foot. Grinding my teeth, not up to see the damage of my phone, I followed its trail and as I was about to pick it up, a large hand closed around it. Looking up, my eyes connected with deep brown ones.
“I’m so sorry about that”, his voice held an accent, one I recognized but couldn’t put a finger on. “Wow, it’s.. I feel like an asshole.” He placed the phone in my hand as we stood back up. My eyes quickly surveyed the damage. The screen was cracked in two, with deep scratches and chips along the black paint around the screen. Wincing, i hit the top button and watched the lock screen light up.
Shaking my head, I went to open my mouth when I finally saw who I was speaking to. He was tall, well built, and had a smile on him that would make anyone’s knees weak. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. When he noticed my dilemma, a soft apologetic smile surfaced on his lips that made my heart flutter and every thought that had been pounding in my head fade away.
“I’m Alex.”
