A Love to Live For (12 page)

“No,” he said. “So there was no need for you to…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The anger swelled within me. “Why couldn’t you just have told me the truth?”

“I wanted to,” he said. “But I didn’t know how.”

“You could have just told me!”

“I was afraid, okay,” he said, his voice rising as well. “I was afraid that I would lose you once I told you I was well. After all, you never told me you liked me. You were only sticking it out with me because…”

“How dare you presume to know how I feel!” I interrupted him, feeling the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes. “So you were just going to keep me in the dark forever? Do you know how much pain I felt every time I thought about you dying?”

“What would it have mattered to you? You like Vincent, after all, don’t you? And from what I’ve heard he seems to like you now, too.”

“Don’t you dare bring anyone else into this.”

He ignored me. “You went out with Vincent, didn’t you?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” I told him. “And I don’t feel like explaining it to you right now.”

“Suit yourself.”

“This is not about me. It’s about you. You lied to me. You made a fool out of me.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“When? Next month? Next year?”

He said nothing.

“Well, let me tell you something.” I felt the first tear streak down my cheek, but ignored it. “You hid the truth from me, betrayed me, because you were afraid to lose me. Well, you just lost me, and the saddest thing about all this…is that I loved you.”

He looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“I loved you,” I repeated the words as another tear streaked down my cheek. “But now, I’m not so sure anymore.”

With those words and without a backward glance, I left.

A few years ago, back in college, during one of those sad, rainy nights when I was all alone in my dorm room, I remembered being bitter, asking God why I did not have a boyfriend like my roommate, who at that time was with hers, and my other friends when I had so much love to give. Now, I understood why so many found it blissful to be single, thinking that most of them had probably been hurt before.

Indeed, it might have been better to have loved and lost but the pain from losing someone you loved, or even from being hurt by someone you loved, was incomparable. Until then, I had thought that the stomach pain I experienced when I had appendicitis back in fourth grade was the worst pain ever, but now I knew it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

True, it was I who had walked away, I who had left him, but I had a feeling I was the one hurting more just the same. The only time it didn’t hurt to leave the person you loved was if you didn’t love him anymore, but if you still did, then leaving that person was just as painful as being left by that person, or perhaps even more so because you were being forced to let go of something you didn’t really want to.

And I still loved Joseph. I knew I did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be hurting so much.

I tried different ways to deal with the pain. I made a bunch of drawings. I read several of my old books, which didn’t help much since they all had such beautiful romances. I tried watching movies – again, that did not help much. I even tried stuffing myself with chocolates, though I stopped after a while since I didn’t really want to get fat.

Unlike before, Abigail kept silent, giving me none of her taunts, which made me realize that it was probably showing that I was really hurting. Bethany, too, seemed to have noticed it since she made me a peanut butter sandwich – a rare gift since she loved peanut butter too much to give it away. As for my father, he tried to talk to me but I told him I was fine, which was obviously a lie, the real meaning behind it being ‘leave me alone’ which my Dad seemed to understand so he stopped making an effort of consoling me or getting me to open up.

The only person I felt like talking to about it was Michelle, who sounded shocked and devastated when I told her that Joseph and I were no longer seeing each other.

“I’m so sorry things didn’t work out,” Michelle said. “Though I really find it hard to believe that they didn’t. You and Joseph seemed really perfect for each other.”

I sighed.

“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I should be saying things to make you feel better, not make you feel worse, like ‘You’re better off without him’ or ‘You’ll find someone who’s the right guy for you, I’m sure, someone even better’.”

I grinned. “It’s okay. One of the things I like most about you is that you’re never afraid to tell me the truth. I wish Joseph had had that courage.”

“Did he tell you why he didn’t tell you the truth?”

“Because he was afraid he’d lose me. He thought I was only going out with him out of pity or something similar.”

“The fact that he was afraid to lose you means he really loved you, though. Can’t you just forgive him?”

I shrugged, saying nothing.

“Anyway, give yourself time to think things over. Well, usually, at first, it’s so painful you can’t think, so you just have to distract yourself from the pain until it subsides a little and you can think.”

“But I don’t know what to do. I can’t seem to distract myself.”

“Well, it can be difficult. But you know what always worked for me?”

“What?”

“Doing something for yourself,” she answered. “Like going to the spa for some pampering or to the salon for a new hairstyle, volunteering somewhere or even just going on vacation. A change of scenery can do you some good.”

“I don’t really know what to do.”

“Do something you like, love even. When you feel better about yourself, then you’ll feel better about everything else.”

I sighed again. “Well, I guess I have to think of something. Thanks, Michelle. I really wish you were here.”

“You could come pay me a visit,” she suggested half jokingly.

I grinned. “Wish I could.”

“Well give me a call when you feel better,” she said. “And don’t worry, I know you will. It may seem like the end of the world but you will feel better.”

“Thanks, Michelle.”

“You’re welcome. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Just talking to Michelle made me feel better, but I knew I was still in a slump. Do something for yourself, she said, but what exactly could I do?

Do something for myself. Do something for myself.

I repeated the words over and over, hoping that they would eventually inspire some brilliant idea.

Finally, after several minutes, they did.

I didn’t know if my idea was brilliant exactly, but I suddenly thought about Vincent’s offer regarding his friend who worked at a publishing company in Philadelphia. Somehow, since I had failed in the romance department, it felt like a good idea to try and see what I could do with my career. Besides, going away for a while seemed like it would do me some good, too.

I talked to Vincent about it, who was enthusiastic and said he would make the arrangements. Then, I talked to my Dad, who seemed happy that I was done sulking and even told me he would call his friend who lived in Philadelphia to ask if I could stay with him.

Two days later, I arrived in Philadelphia.

It was different from Continental, of course, since it was much larger, but somehow, I was not afraid. Rather, I welcomed that change, hoping that there would be something good in it for me.

Already, I was starting to feel better and as I spent time seeing the Liberty Bell, visiting museums like the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Mutter Museum and the Rodin Museum, taking a stroll through Longwood Gardens and watching the animals at the Philadelphia Zoo, I found the pain in my heart slowly melting away. It was almost as if I was rowing away from that island of gloom and heartache, leaving it behind slowly but surely.

On my third day of being in Philadelphia, it was time for me to meet with Vincent’s friend, Charles. I was a little nervous, especially since it had been a long time since I had gone to a job interview, and this seemed very much like one, but as I rode the elevator up to his office, I took a deep breath, clutched my portfolio close to my chest and told myself that everything was going to be fine. Besides, it wasn’t like I really wanted this job. I was simply exploring my options.

“So, you’re Rebecca Swinton,” Charles said, getting up from his chair and leaning forward to shake my hand as soon as I entered his office.

“Yes, I am,” I said, grinning.

“Vincent told me you were a talented illustrator.” Charles took his seat and gestured for me to do the same. “Did he tell you how the two of us know each other by the way?”

I shook my head. “He just said you two were very good friends.”

“Indeed,” Charles said. “My sister was actually his fiancée.”

“Oh.”

“As you perhaps know, that didn’t end well, but I see no reason for us not to stay friends.”

I merely nodded.

“Anyway, let’s not talk about that,” he said, sitting up and tugging at his collar. “Did you bring your portfolio?”

“Yes, I did.” I placed the envelope that was on my lap on his desk.

For a few moments, he was silent as he went through the drawings, studying them with an occasional gleam of surprise in his eyes. I sat, fidgeting with the hem of my blouse as I grew nervous, patiently waiting for his opinion.

Finally, he spoke. “These drawings are very good, actually. Some of them are very powerful while others are soft and calming, just what children would like.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

“We actually do need a book illustrator, especially for our children’s books, on a full-time, permanent basis,” he said. “Would you be interested?”

“I would consider it,” I answered, trying to restrain the excitement in my voice. “Would I have to stay here in Philadelphia?”

“You can stay in…”

“Continental,” I supplied.

“Yes, Continental. You can work from home and send in your illustrations but you’ll have to come to Philadelphia about once or twice a month.”

“I see,” I said.

“Why don’t we do this?” He got up from his chair. “I’ll have my secretary print out some documents right now and then you can go over them and when you’ve made your decision, you can simply call me.”

“I would appreciate that,” I said.

“Good,” he said. He picked up the phone to summon his secretary.

“Do I have a deadline?” I asked after he set down the phone. “I mean, to make up my mind.”

“How about I give you a week?” he asked. “Does that sound good?”

I nodded. Having no other questions, I took my leave, thanking him for his time and telling him I would think about the job carefully. Then, after receiving all the documents I needed to go over, I got a cup of coffee and went to the park, sitting on a vacant bench to think.

I was happy. Really, I felt blessed to be presented with such an amazing opportunity to advance my career. Yet, at the same time, I felt as if I wasn’t fully happy, like there was some sadness lingering in the back of my mind, like there was something missing.