I miss you, I’m sorry

“Good to each other, give it the summer. I knew you too. But I only saw you once in December. I’m still confused. You said, ‘Forever,’ and I almost bought it.”

The salty breeze, just a cruel reminder of summer, swept through the open window, carrying with it all the weight of my regrets. I missed spending the days in Cousins with the boys when Susannah wore her heart on her sleeve, and Conrad’s presence electrified my soul. 

With the smell of the deep blue seas and lingering wounds still harsh, my heart constricted. I woke up from my daydreaming daze, but the memories were as clear as the sky. Conrad's lips had been cool and salty from the ocean under the blaze of summer sun in Cousins.

In May, my heart still ached with the weight of Susannah’s absence, and I found myself going through the motions of everyday life, trying to understand the void she left behind. While the world moved forward, it felt like I was stuck in a haze of grief, desperately trying to touch something as far away as water. 

This month had been the worst month of my life. I remembered everything I said to Conrad, even when it hurt, and even when I wished I could forget. I remembered how he broke up with me at my prom. I remembered telling him how much I hated him at Susannah’s funeral. I remembered the phone calls with Conrad, how they started in autumn and continued into the colder winter nights. I missed the warmth of his voice, the way he made me feel alive, but now the memories of him held a bittersweet taste of what could’ve been.

Losing Susannah was like a wound that never would heal, and losing Conrad was like losing her all over again. The loss bore a hole in my chest, with memories mingled with regrets. She was really gone. Last summer I spent so much of my time dreaming of something to happen with Conrad– longing for him. All this time I was thinking of myself, and what Susannah wanted was to have one final summer in the beach house she loved so much.

For the first time, I wouldn’t be at the summer house. I had wished for Conrad Fisher on every birthday, every shooting star, every penny in a fountain, and now, I had lost him. But he was never really mine. You always remember your first true love, the person you wished with your whole heart you could feel fireworks with. But it was all tainted now, and there was no one else to blame but myself.

As I lay in my bedroom, the tapestry of stars outside my window twinkled like distant memories, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of loss and guilt suffocating me. The phone calls with Conrad played on repeat in my mind, like a broken record stuck in an endless loop. They began in the first week of September. They eventually became trigonometry tutoring sessions, of all things, because he enjoyed teaching me, and I liked to listen to him.

“I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t make me feel electric either,” Conrad had told me over the phone one night last autumn. The air was crisp and warm, his voice soft and gentle, and I felt the electricity burn inside me. I couldn’t escape the memories, like moths drawn to a flame. I was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, staring into the distance, as if searching for answers in the starlight.

I told Conrad that I couldn’t imagine marrying someone who didn’t give me fireworks— electric jolts each time we crossed paths. I had wished upon countless stars, and now it felt Conrad and I were two constellations eternally intertwined, forever linked. In my heart, Conrad was my North Star. 

What used to be a wide smile became a sullen frown that deepened with each passing moment. I let out a lengthy breath of air, this raw, voluminous ache that seemed to penetrate my skin. I managed to mess everything up with everyone, leaving them in ruins. The boy I loved more than anything was nothing more than a memory. My whole life had been measured in summers with the boys. Instead, I ruined my relationship with Conrad before it really began, believing it to be my entire world. I hurt my best friend because I thought what Conrad and I had was my everything. And he didn’t even feel the same way.

The school day had dragged on like an exhausting chore in this muddy existence. Thoughts of Susannah and Conrad consumed my mind, a constant reminder of how I screwed everything up. Despite Steven’s graduation being just a couple weeks away, I was already drained of energy and left with nothing but emptiness.

But the door creaked open, and Steven’s presence brought me back to reality when he prodded me that it was time to leave. “Let's go, Bells. We’re meeting Dad at the restaurant,” he told me, and I soon realized I wasn’t dressed yet. “Just give me a minute,” I said, shooing him away with a small smile.

My gaze fell upon the open closet, which held a million promises for summer– a glimmer of hope I ached for. And then, I saw the baby blue dress Susannah gave me right before she died hanging in my closet, and I put it on. My heart sank, but then I followed Steven downstairs. In the open-concept dining room, my mother stood, looking frail and uneasy. The initial silence only intensified the void left by Susannah’s absence.

Even after she died, there were a million things I wanted to say to Susannah. She had been more than just my mother’s best friend to me; she was my favorite person with the gentlest heart. In this house, I could almost forget that she was really gone. 

As I stood before my mother, wearing Susannah’s dress, she stared at me. “What are you wearing? Go upstairs and change,” she said, and then Susannah was everywhere. The loss was etched across my mother’s face, and Steven, seemingly detached, stood with a stoic expression, refusing to look at me. But I could feel my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. 

My heart broke for my mother, who barely left her bedroom and refused to eat. As for the boys, my heart broke for them, too, even if they weren’t there. Even when the Fishers weren’t there, they were everywhere, like traces of them lingering. I remembered every little thing I said and everything I wished I had said. With those faint memories, the days of early muffin runs with the boys, the late-night swims, and the cozy movie nights with the moms watching old black-and-white films were all gone. At that moment, I wondered if you could ever heal after losing someone you loved, after losing a part of you. Like a dream, the truth became painfully clear, and then I started to cry.

I wasn't in Cousins. Conrad and I weren't together, and Susannah was dead. Nothing would ever be the same.