Chad

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We were kids, he loved my best friend.

But the problem with Chad, was that he didn’t love her like young people tend to love, he didn’t love her as a girl, he loved her like a painter loves art, like a pianist loves music, like an astronomist falls for a star, in a terminal way.

She was just passing through life, escaping something invisible neither him nor me ever got to find out.

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She was not accepting help, not listening, not taking any of the hands being lent to her. Until she finally quitted and i found him dressed in black sitting down with his hands on his forehead, at the front row of the funeral home.

His roommates said that he didn’t left his room for days, and one morning they woke up to a burning smell and a house full of smoke, all her gifts, letters, and forgotten clothes were being grilled in the barbeque. As the smoke raised and disappeared in the sky, Chad turned to his friends with a smile and said “I’m only giving it back to her”. The carbonized black pieces were impossible to clean off the grill and it had to be thrown away, and I can only wonder how much worst his heart must have looked.

We met again a few years after, Chad and me, and we had so many of the same questions we sat down with a bottle of tequila and talked. But there were not answers only more questions, and more doubts and more regrets that kept flooding the room and pushing us together. Until his nose was against mine and his tears in the same path as mine, they were the same tears in a way, the same desperate love for the same person, with nowhere to be put, with no one to come claim it and take it all away.

So he kissed me, hard, he threw me to the bed like he probably wanted to throw his feelings, hard, he left bruises on my arms, my chest, my tights, the pit of my stomach (where those the places where he still hurt?) he hugged me after, hard, i’ve noticed that he holds on to everything harder ever since she’s gone.

I go home, found my daughter sleeping and i get in and cuddle with her. I put my arms around her body, hard… I’ve noticed that I hold on to everything harder ever since she’s gone.

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