Courage

The visage of Rachel’s crying face that day never left me. It haunted me from my waking moment to my dream. I had to force myself to reread the code that was requested for review because I couldn't get over the fact that I made her distraught due to my own cowardice. Each time that scene resurfaced in my mind, my heart ached as if my body was punishing me for making the choice that led to that outcome. I thought I’d already gotten used to feeling regret, but apparently, I was far from it.

I’d been a coward since I was young. I would run away and hide whenever there was something scaring me. Didn’t matter if it was ghosts, caterpillars, strict teachers, solo presentation, socializing, responsibilities, future; if I found them scary, I would run away never to face them.

That tendency ended up causing more problems for me down the line; I’d seen it happen throughout my life countless times before. Usually, it would only hurt me, but this time, it hurt Rachel as well.

After an unproductive time of working, I clocked out and went to buy my dinner. Stepping out of the front door with a tote bag on my shoulder, I headed to the supermarket.

The quiet whispers that told me I was being watched were gone. Instead, it was replaced by the loud shouts that were condemning me for hurting her.

As I was headed to self-checkout after grabbing my meal deal, I walked right into the alcohol section. A certain brand of vodka seltzer was placed amongst the wall of alcoholic beverages. It was Rachel’s favorite. I grabbed some cans as well as my favorite, peach soju, before I checked out and headed home.

I didn't wait to eat my meal before I started drinking the vodka seltzer. Even though it wasn't Friday, I decided to drink, hoping that it would help me bury the guilt that was haunting me. Instead, it intensified the pain in my heart, spreading to all parts of my body as if I'd tried to extinguish a roaring flame with gasoline.

My head was spinning, and my stomach hurt. But the alcohol made my head fuzzy, and in turn, let me forget about my problem, so I continued to drink. The light sour drink flowed down my throat so easily that I’d run out of the vodka seltzer before I even realized. It didn’t matter because I still had my peach soju. I twisted the cap open and tipped the bottle up high, letting the clear liquid enter my mouth.

The moment the peach flavor spread throughout my mouth, I was reminded of the time I shared this drink with Rachel. We were standing in front of a convenience store, exchanging each sip as we stared into nothingness, feeling the autumn wind brushing against our skin. It was a good time, shared with the person I loved. And because of what I did, I would never get a chance to spend that kind of moment with her anymore.

Tears rolled out of my eyes. I called out her name as I cried, but there was no one to respond.

Only after I hurt her did I notice all the excuses I made so that I could avoid her.

Telling myself that she would understand, even though I told her nothing. Thinking that she would be fine without me, even though I knew she was lonely. Taking advantage of her kindness, thinking that she would forgive me for avoiding her.

The Rachel I idolized was a kind and successful person; she wouldn’t be troubled if someone like me was avoiding her.

But the real Rachel wasn’t like that at all. She was a lonely person who hid behind a pretended perfect life, an actress who acted because the world told her to. What lay underneath her mask was a hollow hole that she was trying to fill, but in my attempt to run away, I broke her mask and left her to collect the fallen pieces on her own.

I wanted to fix this. I wanted to fix everything I did wrong. I wanted to tell her sorry that I hurt her and that I wanted her by my side.

I pulled out my phone and opened her chat and typed out every thought and feeling I had for her before I pressed send. And when I did, a certain message popped up immediately.

“You can no longer send a message to this user.”

Rachel’d blocked me.

“Why! Why!” I yelled, but I already knew the answer.

Why wouldn’t she block me after I hurt her?

Getting blocked by her was karma I had to face for what I’d done to her; without it, I would never get the full extent of how painful it was to be ignored by a person you loved.

Wiping away the unending tears, I took a large gulp of my soju. The alcohol didn’t help with the pain anymore, and yet I kept on drinking, hoping that, somehow, it would help.

Until I blacked out.

**

I woke up on the floor of my bedroom with a splitting headache and a stomach growling so loud that I was sure it was the reason why I woke up.

The memories of last night came rushing in as I lifted my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose to ease the headache. With the help of alcohol, I let out my thoughts as well as my tears, which cleared my mind of the fogginess, but an insane hangover came as a side effect.

I looked around for my phone and reached for it once I spotted it. And in the process of grabbing my phone, my hand landed on something, crushing it. I looked down to see that it was the meal deal I’d bought yesterday that hadn’t been opened. No wonder why I was so hungry...

Now with the phone in my hand, I instinctively unlocked the screen and saw Rachel’s chat that I’d opened last night. Swiping through the wall of text I sent to her, I mumbled to myself:

“What the hell did I write?”

How did the me from last night think that Rachel would be able to understand any of this? I wrote them all and still had no idea what any of them meant. If she saw this, she would’ve asked the same question I’d just asked, no doubt. But she wouldn’t see any of it. She’d blocked me after all...

I locked my phone screen and sighed to myself. I wanted to ask for her forgiveness, but it turned out she’d block me, so the only choice I had was to meet her in person and apologize to her. It was the “meeting her in person” part that I didn’t want to do.

I turned to my clock to see that it was about time Mom would call for–

“Lena, are you up?”

A shout came from downstairs just as I predicted. So I went to the kitchen.

When I stepped into the kitchen, my parents turned their gaze to me briefly. My mom was making full English, and my dad was making tea. The aroma of fried food and the whistle of a kettle of tea on a calm morning made it feel like last night was a nightmare I’d woken up from.

“Rough night?” My dad asked as he handed me a tea in my favorite mug.

I hummed as an answer as I put in milk and sugar before taking a sip. The warm tea slid down my stomach, calming me down.

After Mom finished making breakfast, I helped her put them on the dining table, and we began eating.

I mixed the sausage with the runny egg yolk before putting it in my mouth, followed by a bite of toast. Spending a night without dinner made me hungrier than usual. I even asked Mom to put some black pudding on my plate, which was unusual since I didn’t like it compared to other items.

As I chewed on my baked bean, I wondered what Rachel was eating right now. Sandwich? Cereal? Or full English like I was eating right now?

Even the slightest moment I thought of her made the guilt return to stab my heart.

Asking for her forgiveness meant that I had to go meet her in person and tell her my feelings. Last night I’d wanted to take the easy way out by messaging her, but now I knew that that wasn’t an option anymore.

In the end, I was still scared of confronting her. What if she told me that she hated me and that she didn’t want to see me again? I might’ve told myself that, but that was what I’d assumed. She never explicitly said that to me; I’d just assumed on my own since she’d told me goodbye.

But if things keep going on like this, we might never see each other again for real. Was this what I wanted? Instead of gambling on the chance that I may or may not get confirmation that we were done, I let time go by, and we drifted apart like back then?

No, absolutely not.

Fear has controlled me for too long now. I didn’t want us to drift apart like back then. I wanted to stay with her. It didn’t matter anymore if there would be an article talking about us. It didn’t matter to me if they said I didn't deserve her. As long as she wanted me around, I would gladly be there for her. I was done being controlled by my own fear.

“What should I buy when I want to apologize to someone?” I asked.

My parents stopped talking and turned their gaze on me.

“Flower, maybe?” Mom said.

“I wish someone would give me a bouquet as an apology.” She gave a sidelong glance at Dad. He continued eating his meal, pretending he didn’t hear what Mom said. “I’ll give you the location of my favorite flower shop.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I shoved the rest of my meal into my mouth, chewed it thoroughly and gulped it all down before I contacted my boss to ask for sick leave. He approved immediately, probably because of all the alcohol I drank without dinner last night. I should start to recover now that I've filled my belly with a delicious breakfast.

I dressed up in an outfit Kayle coordinated for me and put on some makeup. Standing at the front door, I reached my hand out to grab onto the doorknob.

My hand shook as I was holding onto it. Fear still haunted me, but I wouldn’t let that happen anymore. This would be the first step to rid myself of its control over me. I took a deep breath and expelled every single bit of air inside my lungs and turned the doorknob, opened the door and stepped out.

This time, I wasn’t about to let fear take over me.

This time, I was going to fix everything.