Page 35 of The Breaking Pointe

please don’t leave me

COLTON

If it weren’t for the stinging in my hands and the aching in my arms, I’d be able to stay asleep. The bed is warm, and so is the small frame against me. I don’t want to open my eyes and look at the disaster that I left all over the house. I don’t want to feel guilty about how I ruined everything because Trey is right.

I lack self-control.

Opening my eyes, they start to burn as soon as the air touches them, making me close them and try again, seconds later. Noelle’s hair is the first thing I can see, trailing across the pillow behind her as she holds onto me underneath the covers. I lift a hand to the long strands, forced to look at the cuts and bruises that are now cleaned off and lathered with some sort of ointment to heal the busted mess.

I close my eyes again and return my arms to her body, clinging onto her, tensing up to try to refrain from my tears pouring out. Unable to hold on, I cough softly—and that transforms

into weeping, right into her head. The more breaths I take, the heavier the tears feel like they’re running out of my eyelids. Cradling her head, I bury her more into me, praying she doesn’t hear.

A couple of small fingers begin to trace my back, and a voice speaks into my chest”

It’s okay…I’m here.”

I cling tighter, releasing myself of the torture, and letting her listen to how much pain I’m letting rot within me. I can feel her soft lips hit my chest, over and over again.

“I’m sorry,”

I keen, “I’m so sorry I’m like this…”

“Stop it. Stop apologizing.”

She traces her fingers against my skin.

I don’t know what else to do. She has to endure so much just because of my issues. How can I go on and not be sorry for any of the things she’s had to see? She’s already traumatized enough”

Nothing is wrong with you,”

she pushes, pulling her arms

away and cupping my cheeks to make me look at her.

I wanna turn away, but I can’t. I feel at peace”

What am I missing?”

I question, sniffling.

“Nothing. Maybe your momma,”

she whispers, removing tears with her thumbs.

I do miss her. So much”

I do…”

I say, hoarsely.

“Help me, help you.”

She kisses my nose, wiping my cheeks again”

I’m scared. I want you to be safe. I’m worried that the happy guy that I met, almost a year ago, is lost and can’t find his way back. I can’t lose you…”

“I am…so lost.”

I drop my head into her chest, raging in my tears again. She wraps her arms around me as far as she can, and rocks us.

Rocks me like a baby.

It isn’t until later in the evening that I finally pick myself up out of the bed and join Noelle in picking up after myself. She doesn’t have to, but she hasn’t left my side. No amount of trauma can make her stay away, I suppose. She makes it so hard to push the love I don’t believe I deserve away, refusing to let up from being so observant and patient.

Picking up different cut outs of ceramic bowls, I toss each one into a heavy duty garbage bag. Each piece feels like I’m losing a year of my life. I have spent so much time pouring my soul into so many of these projects. I never thought I would be cleaning their residue because I finally lost my shit. It feels like my very own smack to my face. It’s also eye-opening. I feel relieved, but at the cost of losing all of my prized possessions. I can’t remake a single thing, even if I try. I could never remember every detail”

I’m a fucking idiot,”

I say out loud, throwing more debris

into the bag.

Noelle looks at me, stepping over some broken wood and picking it up”

No, you aren’t,”

she says, putting it in the bag she’s holding.

I stand up, pushing my glasses up on my face, releasing the deepest sigh I can.

She drops her bag and walks over to me”

How about a break?”

she asks, taking my free hand, still holding onto a rolled up piece of artwork.

I comply, resting my back against the wall and sliding down until I hit the floor. She sits beside me, her face turned to look at me.

“What’s that?”

I gesture to the rolled up picture.

“Oh, uh. I don’t know. I saw it—when I came over for the first time. It isn’t ruined, but I don’t know if you wanna keep it,”

she tells me, holding it out.

I take it, and straight away unroll it until I can see the entire thing.

It’s a scribbled out man, with bits flying from his head. The culprit is his hand that’s an abstract shape of a gun. It’s what I’ve been envisioning for years, and a long while ago, decided to put on paper.

It’s my father.

“Yikes,”

I say, crumbling it up.

“Why? What is it?”

She stops me, taking it back and examin- ing it.

I bite my lip, watching her as she looks at me again.

“I’ve been wondering what this is for so long,”

she presumes.

I look down, crossing my legs then at her again”

It’s my father. It’s…it’s an abstract of what he did.”

She carefully scoots closer, setting the picture down.

“Do you…wanna talk about what happened to your father?”

She looks at my hands, reaching for them.

“Yeah…”

I ready myself, letting her take my hand and watch- ing her dainty fingers caress them.

She rests her head on my shoulder, giving me privacy, and not staring into my soul—the way I do to her.

“Why don’t you ever talk about him?” she asks.

“Well,”

I begin, “the thing about my father is that he had numerous, malevolent ways of disciplining me. He wasn’t always foul, but I spent more years being tortured by him than loved by him.”

I close my eyes for a moment, being quiet”

He would do treacherous things to my mom. He was a lot like Daniel. Mostly, he was a great boxer, just like Daniel. He ruined it with his drug abuse.”

I lick my lips, looking at the leftover mess in front of us. It’s mostly cleaned up now—making the room nearly empty. Noelle

plays with each of my fingers, listening”

What happened to him?”

I tilt my head into hers, softly”

He uh…he committed suicide.” I gulp”

He shot himself. In front of me—and that’s what the picture represents.”

I shovel out all of my words, squeezing my lips shut as my eyes fill up, ready to waterfall, yet again.

She lifts her head and looks at me with stunned eyes.

“It’s all I can see. I have PTSD from it, and it makes me be this unwell, untamed person,”

I whimper”

My mother would know what to say, but I never do. I keep trying to justify her passing, because I didn’t take it seriously, Noelle,”

I exhale, sniffling”

I’m stupid, and selfish. She was young—she didn’t deserve it—”

“Hey, no.”

She shakes her head, placing a hand in my hair and caressing it”

Totally not true. You’re far from selfish.”

She holds my hands tighter, directing me calmly”

It’s going to be hard, okay? You miss her, but you have to keep going. I’m so sorry you felt that you had to bottle all of that up—but it’s over now. You don’t have to anymore,”

she assures me.

I sniffle again and sit up, clearing my voice as I squeeze her hands back”

For once…I can say that talking about it isn’t so bad. I said it out loud, and the world didn’t eat itself from the inside out.”

She cleans a few of my extra tears, giving me a small smile”

I’m very proud of you. Your mother has always been proud of you, and she would be proud of you now.”

Her last words burn as they hit me, but I want them to be true, so badly, I’d even let them scald me.

“Thank you for staying with me.”

I look at her, stealing a kiss on her cheek.

She looks back at me with longing eyes, the green seeming

duller than usual.

“I have to say something,”

she insists.

“Say it, sweetheart,”

I tell her, laying my head against the wall.

She pulls my hands to her lap and thinks for a moment”

Well—”

she begins, stopping as soon as she speaks again”

I love you,”

she says quickly.

Oh God.

“Elle, I…”

I scramble, trying to give her anything except no response.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,”

she throws out.

But I do. I think. I don’t fucking know—this is all happening too fast for me.

“Noelle, I just wasn’t expecting that—It’s not that I don’t feel it—I just—”

I start to pant between my words, grabbing my chest.

“Colton, it doesn’t require an answer,”

she tells me, holding my arm”

Just breathe, I’m not angry.”

She’s not angry, but after everything I just told her, I can’t even say that I’m in love with her. It’s the one thing that still scares me the most. I’m not sure what I’m scared of anymore. I know how I feel, but my body is struggling to take the next step. If I say the magic words, it would make her leaving me even harder to get through. If I didn’t love her, I wouldn’t be doing all that I’m doing. The spark is there—and so am I. I’m all in.

So why the hell can’t I say it?

* * *

I lift my shirt over my head, tossing it onto the bench with my

gym bag and take my old gloves out of the bag. Actually taking a break is abnormal to me. There’s no way that anybody could think I’d stay away from my boxing gloves for that long. Before I go out of town, I need to get my fix, one good time. I look back inside the bag and see the cassette tapes that Noelle gave me, right along with a cassette player I’d bought to eventually listen to them, but haven’t yet.

Feeling the universe talk to me, I set the gloves down and pick up the cassettes and the player, sitting on the bench and taking the headphones out, as well. I connect everything together, and put the headphones over my head, covering my ears with them, then insert the first cassette, labeled Pick It Up. Closing the tape in it, I press rewind, and listen as it quickly winds up and clicks when it finishes, then I press play.

“Noelle. This is Daddy.”

A deep voice fills the silence in my ears”

I know you’re feeling like things won’t change. I’m here to tell you that they do. It’s not gonna happen, though, if you don’t try. I need you to pick it up.”

I rest my elbows on my thighs, listening more.

“I mean, really pick yourself up. The floor is cold. Nobody down there can help you. But you can. Find that inkling—that inner power inside you. Pick yourself up. Do yourself that favor, okay? Be honest with yourself. Love yourself. These are the things that will pick you up. You can’t dance when you’re lying on the floor, baby girl,”

he says, embodying a self-help coach as he goes on.

This is the man who’s made her so determined. It all makes sense now.

“When you pick it up, hang onto it, Noelle. Your time is coming, but the time to get up is now. Make it happen,” he says.

The tape clicks again, indicating that it’s ended, leaving me astounded.

I open the cassette player and take it out, replacing it with another labeled If You’re Feeling Alone.

“Hey, honey. I want you to know that me and Mom aren’t as far as it feels. Miles mean nothing. Distance is only a word for space between. It has nothing to do with the amount of love you have for someone,” he says.

The face of my mother takes over my thoughts.

“Did you know that if you love someone enough, it remains? It holds a place in your heart until you force it out. Only you can force it out, but we would never do that. We loved you before you were even here. We knew. Love knows. Do you hear me?”

he asks, making me shut my eyes.

“I hear you,”

I whisper.