Noah- Unspoken Words

You'll always get a strange feeling whenever you're about to leave a place. I can tell that, as I've gotten quite used to it along the way. It's an odd blend of longing, nostalgia, and the impending separation from people, places, and perhaps even those I held dear. But for me, the greatest void is the absence of the version of myself I once was in that moment and within those surroundings. I'm aware that I can't hold onto it any longer, that I might not remain the same again.

But one thing I can tell, when packing my luggage, as if dancing with the remnants of my life in Camden. This time, I won't be taking just a fragment of an empty husk; I'll be carrying with me much more. Each item I held in my hands, from well-worn shirts to treasured mementos, held a story, a connection to a place and time that was about to become a memory. These have made me stronger now.

I spread my suitcase open on my bed, its cavernous depths waiting to be filled with the fragments of my existence. A muted vitality seemed to pulse through the room, as if the very walls were holding their collective breath, aware that a significant transformation was taking place.

It might sound whimsical, but each possession bore a significance beyond its physical form—a sentimental weight that transcended mere mass.

Mom stood beside me, and together we sorted through the remnants of my life in this small town.

She glanced at the half-filled suitcase, her gaze lingering on the framed photograph of our family perched on the nightstand. "You know, Noah, it feels like just yesterday you were a little boy running around the house," she said, her voice carrying a trace of nostalgia, "and now you're all grown up,"

I paused, meeting her eyes. "I know, Mom. It's hard to believe how quickly time flies..."

"But I don't have anything in my hands after all. You'll keep growing up, while also growing away from us..."

"Growing away... you're right I guess."

"I don't know what kind of mother I was to you, good or bad. I don't know, and deep down, I feel like I've only been a bad mother to you..." Her voice trailed, a search for the right words in the midst of the silent room. Her gaze swept around as if seeking solace in its corners. "But in the end, I'm your mother. So I'll always want my son to grow up, even if it means growing away from me."

She continued to fold the shirts, packing them into the worn suitcase. "Have you said goodbye to everyone in your class?"

I paused, my gaze shifting to a framed photograph of my classmates. "Not yet," I confessed, my voice laced with a whiff of regret.

Mom's eyes softened, as she reached out to touch my arm gently. "What about Iva? Have you told her?" she asked.

The silence that followed spoke volumes, pressing upon me like an oppressive fog. It was true—I hadn't yet found the courage to tell Iva about any of this.

During recess today, I got into a fight with Alan after I told him everything going on in my mind. In the end, we only traded a few punches with our words and fists, but couldn't have a heart-to-heart talk. After all, we're both selfish in our ways. His emotions remain a puzzle I struggle to decipher, just as he'll also never be able to approve of the way I try to amend my mistakes.

Later that afternoon, I was sitting beside the window of my room, a quiet sanctuary where my thoughts could roam freely. The cut I got from Alan's punch was still bleeding, the bitter taste of blood lingering in my mouth. When did I even end up like this, a pathetic loser?

"Don't make it sound that easy. How can she just leave behind all those memories?"

I don't have an answer to that, Alan. Even after breaking up with her, I was too weak to push her away from me, thinking it as for her sake... but in the end I just wanted to hold onto her kindness and the warmth she gave. And Alan, I was aware all along— that she still harbored feelings for me. Perhaps, though, it wouldn't have been the case had I been forthright about my imminent departure from town.

On that day, I couldn't bring myself to break her heart, no matter what my intentions were... and not even after that. I couldn't even bring myself to embrace her love, nor could I muster the courage to push her away from me. And now, after all this time of my ignorance... I guess this is the only choice I have.

I picked up my phone. Feeling its weight in my trembling hand, I started texting Iva.

Can you meet me at the park near our house?

I typed, though my fingers hesitating over the send button.

I need to talk to you.

Within minutes, a reply came through. Is everything okay, Noah?

I typed as fast as my fingers could swipe through the screen.

Oh, it's nothing. Just wanted to talk to you about something.

Okay, I'll be there.

With a deep breath, I powered off my phone, a small yet significant act in the grand scheme of things. A small step taken, now, all that remained was to gather my resolve, to summon the strength to face Iva and confront the gale of emotions that stirred within me. Before the looking glass, I stood, looking at my reflection. The face that stared back at me betrayed the inner turmoil that threatened to consume me.

With each passing step, I felt a twinge of sorrow deep within me. The sights and sounds of Camden had imprinted themselves on my soul, memories that would accompany me on my journey to Boston. The aroma of freshly baked bread from Mrs. Grammy's bakery, the sound of laughter echoing from the local café, the colorful murals adorning the walls—there were the fragments of Camden that I carried with me, like a traveler holding tightly to a cherished memento.

The park, where I had spent countless afternoons with Iva. The encroaching evening draped the park in a tender, gilded hue, stretching elongated shadows across the verdant expanse. A coolness began to permeate the air, accompanied by the murmur through the foliage, rustling leaves as if sharing in the weight of my mind.

Iva treaded towards me, her steps uncertain, her eyes sheeny with rays of sunlight. I took a deep breath, mustering the courage to face her. My voice fumbled slightly as I began to speak. "Did I cause you any trouble, calling you out at a time like this?"

"No, it's okay."

She'd never complain about anything. A bit selfish sometimes, but ever grateful and smiling. I found myself coveting that facet of her character, her unabashed sincerity in extending kindness to others.

Her chestnut tresses glimmered as they basked in the tender caress of the evening sun. "Did you have anything to tell me?" she queried, her voice a soft utterance that carried a hint of wistfulness.

"Iva," I began, "I'd wanted to tell you this for a long time..."

Concern etched across her face. "What is it, Noah? You can tell me," she murmured softly, her voice sounded like a gentle lament.

As if my own words were tearing through my chest, and I struggled to unearth the right words. "I... I'll be leaving for Boston in a few days." I confessed, "I just wanted to let you know that."

I had anticipated this day with fear. Even though it was my choice all along, I made it a point to savor every remaining moment by her side. She was my savior, illuminating my world when all I could perceive was utter darkness, like the sun, and extending her hand towards me.

The weight of the silence carried its own eloquence. Her gaze remained fixed upon mine, devoid of even the faintest flutter of her eyelids or a hint of motion in her lips. "Iva, actually, I-"

"Is that all that you wanted to say?" Iva's eyes glistened, "Boston... was it?"

"Yeah, my uncle runs a photography studio there." I turned my head away from her, a little attempt to save myself from the emotions flooding through her eyes. "I'll study from there and learn how he works first-hand."

"What should I say, wish you good luck?" her lips quivered ever so slightly. And then tears started rolling down her cheeks, tracing subtle patterns over her flawless skin.

I nodded, my throat tightening as I fought back the tears threatening to spill forth. I still couldn't bring my eyes to turn back to her. "Until today, I'd been pondering over how I'll tell you any of this. Maybe deep down I wanted to leave without saying any last words. But..."

"But...?"

"But the thought of hurting you that away, I would come to hate myself doing that." I clenched my fists as tight as I could, "I'd rather do and repent, than not do anything and regret. Without you, I'll really feel vulnerable, Iva. But happiness might exist for both of us. I want to believe in that."

You were there too, a long time ago, crammed in one corner of the dark room. The memory remains vivid in my mind. Both of us, in our own ways, were entangled in the grasp of our own darkness. However, you bravely battled your way through that abyss. So I'm sure...

"It might be somewhere in the future, waiting for us to catch up. And when that day comes..."

What you've shown me is enough, Iva, so I'll be alright too.

So Iva, please, just forget me.

"But Noah, I still-"

"Iva, you've saved me." I cut through her words. I know what she wants to say, Iva. But I don't want to hear it. I've really thought this through, and this time around, I won't falter, even if I need to shatter her heart. So, please... Iva... please, let it end like this. "You'd really saved me, Iva."

"Noah...?"

"It's because of you, Iva, that I can walk again. For who I was, you had embraced all of it, the me who I couldn't come to accept myself either. I would never leave you without saying a goodbye. I just couldn't bear the thought of hurting you again."

"Did I speak too much?" My eyes brimmed with tears, as the emotions threatened to overflow. I reached out to hold her trembling hands. "I just can't keep my head straight in times like this." My voice was breaking with the weight of my love, and my guilt, yet I continued. "But, Iva, it's just that I want you to move on, too. It might not be me, someone else, who'll be able to make you happy, more than I ever could. And that's fine by me, just to see that you're still smiling like always."

I remembered, again... the same feeling I'd felt lying on the hospital bed after that accident. She might've felt it too, the meaninglessness of all of this. When I'd regained consciousness, the first thing I saw was Iva, crying and walking out from the hospital room. I was actually quite lucky back then, as I got out of with without any scars or serious injuries.

Yet, the only lasting scar was the one that marred Iva's heart. And with every passing moment by my side, it would only deepen, an open wound that refuses to heal.

What I did back then... I thought it was for the best... but I was wrong. I'd messed up.

She returned my grip, taking a step back. "Noah, you idiot..." she murmured under her breath.

Of all the liars, in the end, the worst is always your own fear.

But if you keep lying, you'll only break, not able to protect anything.

Time seemed to come to a standstill, as if the universe held its breath, suspended in that heartbreaking moment. Those three simple words lingered in the air, heavy. I watched as she turned and ran, her tears staining her cheeks, a reflection of the ache that mirrored my own.

I crumbled onto a nearby bench, the weight of the unspoken goodbye consuming me. The park, once a sanctuary, of laughter and shared dreams, now seemed like a theatre, while I am the tragic hero. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a cascade of shadows, I allowed myself to surrender to the sea of emotions that crashed against my shores.

I could tell just by looking at her... it's the same as that day. Like a stray cat soaking in the rain... every time... she will lend me her umbrella, take me on her lap, she'll let herself get drenched, yet embrace all of me. I don't want it anymore, even though I knew things would end up like this anyway.

I got up from the bench. I won't regret this decision. Not this time.

I won't regret it...

Regret...

The same word kept repeating in my mind. Maybe I'm trying to convince myself of something I won't come to accept subconsciously. But will I actually regret it?