"Have you ever heard of Nightingale Syndrome?" I sniffled. "It's a situation where a caregiver develops romantic and sometimes or sexual feelings for his or her patient, even if very little communication or contact takes place outside of basic care." Tears spilled into the pillowcase as I spoke. Dylan wrapped me tighter in his embrace. "I think that's what happened with Jude. It was never going to work long term." I wiped my cheek. "They say the feelings fade when the subject recovers or dies." With that, I let my breath out in long whoosh, feeling both lighter and heavier.
Dylan kissed my neck, my shoulder, and my back. "Thank you." He didn't need to say anything more. The tone of his voice said everything I needed to hear.
I turned in his strong hold and put my hand on his face. He closed his eyes momentarily, my fingers grazing across his full lips. "You okay?"
"Yeah, sugar. I am." And with his whisper-soft response, he kissed me.
We spent the rest of the day entangled between the sheets. We made love, talked, and slept. I couldn't have asked for a better response to the bomb I had dropped on him. Dylan didn't judge me, didn't reject me. He just took everything I had to say and then held me. Loved me.
Yes, he was everything I never knew I wanted…and our time was limited, at best.
Later that evening, I was unable to sit still after Dylan had dropped me back off at home. My nervous energy got the best of me and in order to keep from doing something stupid like drinking myself into a stupor, I started to clean. I needed to get rid of a few things, cleanse my closet and my soul of all the blackness that seemed to have taken over before I let it all go with Dylan.
If only I could erase Jude from my apartment.
I sucked my teeth and grabbed a trash bag from under the kitchen cabinet.
I had already cleaned every crevice of my place. There was nothing left to do but face my past. My memories of Jude, of my addiction, everything I wanted to keep buried was just waiting for me to take a trip down memory lane.
"It's not that bad, Haven," I mumbled to myself as I slammed the cabinet shut and stomped toward the bedroom, a determined stride in my gait. "You can do this." The pep talk became my mantra as I opened the doors and stared at the top shelf.
I stood with each door in my hands, bottom lip clenched between my teeth, and eyes wide. "Music!" I blurted and turned for my phone to put on some tunes. "I need music. What do I want to listen to?" I asked myself as I scrolled through endless playlists.
I knew it was just a way to put off what really needed to be done but I justified my distraction when “Undefeated” from Daughtry started blaring through my little phone speaker. I placed it on the dock, so I could hear it from anywhere in the tiny apartment and bobbed my head as I went back to the closet. Pulling the large box off the shelf, my shoulders protested the weight. "Damn, what's in here? Bricks?" I brought it down and plopped on the floor.
The lid fell to the side and I covered my mouth as memories jumped from the sight of the contents. My heart lurched into my throat and a sob threatened to escape as I slowly lowered my body to examine my past a little more closely.
Right on top was a picture Jude had snapped of us one morning; we had bed head and my mascara was smudged under my eyes, but Jude was smiling like the joker. I was stupidly happy. My eyes shone with pure adoration for the man lying next to me.
I picked it up and covered my mouth. Tears blurred the edges of my vision. "Stupid girl, you fell for the forbidden guy." I shook my head and laid it aside as I reached for the next item.
It was one of Jude's old band t-shirts of Shinedown, faded and peeling, but the fabric was soft and worn. I held it to my face, inhaling, hoping for some strange reason it would still smell like him.
It didn't.
Just like us, it had faded and was replaced with bitterness and hurt. I huffed. "All right, I need to stop this shit." I tossed the shirt into the bag.
My mind whirled, memories blended together of both past and present, Dylan's face replacing Jude's in some of my happiest ones. "I'm not that girl anymore," I stammered, my voice gaining strength as I allowed the pain to surface. "He lost his chance, and he didn't want me. I'm not going to beg for something someone isn't willing to give." I grabbed the next few things from the box and threw it all into the bag, not even bothering to look at it.
"This is your past, Haven. Focus on the now, on Dylan."
I finished rummaging through my memories with Jude, my hands shaking and covered in dust. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of everything, so I kept the picture. It was something that reminded me I was happy once and I could be again.
"Time to make some new memories, Haven," I proclaimed aloud, my hands itching to stay busy, my body buzzing with energy I ached to find remedy to. My phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text message. I swiped the screen and read it, a smile tipping my lips up.
Sugar, I loved every minute of our time together and I look forward to more moments. I cherish those, and you.
I gushed over his words as I read them a second time, and a third.
In my mind, I responded ten times over before I actually formulated one suitable to send back.
He made me giddy.
Giddy?
Yes, I was positively giddy.
My fingers flew across the keyboard of my phone on their own accord, as if they were determined to spill my innermost thoughts without my brain having a say in the matter.
And it didn't.