Unbreak My Heart

There were days when Samira could not sleep through the night. She would leave the warmth of her bed to sit on the front porch of her house where nothing but the cool mid-summer air would welcome her. Fresh air that one could only come across in the wee hours of the day, before the bright colors of the rising sun left its mark in the sky.

Unlike Jerry, she didn't have an athletic bone in her body. Jerry often claimed that he was envious of her "ability" to wake up so early. Although he exercised after he came home from a long day of work, he would often say that there was nothing better than a morning workout to properly start the day. No matter how hard she tried, Samira could not understand that mindset. If she had to choose, doing absolutely nothing would be the only thing worth doing in the morning.

Why would she choose to run her body ragged when she had the chance to pull on a warm robe, grab a glass of merlot and simply sit there on the steps of her porch, with nothing but the rising sun in sight?

She had an old journal to keep her company today. Something she hadn't touched in years as she would only use it to pour nothing but the pain she'd endured over the years. As she read through it, old memories surfaced. A soft smile crept up her lips as words she'd once written reminded her of what had led her to Jerry.

It's incredible how easy it is for some people to tell a grieving person that they'll get better soon. Sharing my pain with such people has proven to be nothing but a complete and utter disappointment thus far. Perhaps I should stop talking about it altogether, though I've read somewhere that speaking about your feelings can heal the soul. I've yet to meet the person who can help heal my so-called soul. As far as I can tell, it's quite easy for people to listen to my pain, pretend they understand it and come out with something as banal as "you'll be okay." Is that supposed to mean anything real? I've been dealing with this grief for over two years now and I can't help but scoff at such statements. The pain I had felt upon mom's death only worsened throughout the first year of her departure. "Time heals all wounds," they say. Did the one who come up with such a feel-good statement actually experience every possible wound known to Man? What time has done for me is make my grief so bearable that I'm now left with nothing but an empty, hollow mess in the pit of my stomach. I need something to fill it.

Samira had sought to fill that emptiness with something different. Something under than grief. Back then, she’d found it difficult to remember what it was like to feel truly happy, thus she figured that she should try to feel anything but the pain brought on by grief. Based on what she'd witnessed from her remaining family members and friends, heartbreak might be the key. The kind of devastating heartbreak that would allow her to experience a completely different kind of pain. The kind that might swallow the emptiness and absorb the relentless feeling of grief that wouldn't leave her.

Despite her friends' decision not to help her in this endeavor, Samira had been back on the market for the first time in years. She'd become a serial dater. She remembered wondering if people's motives to date were always ultimately the same. If they were all looking for a soulmate to spend the rest of their lives with. She probably should've felt bad. After all, her sole purpose was to fall for a man who would reciprocate her feelings, only for that relationship to end in complete and utter disaster.

According to her friend Rachel, it was selfish to go on a first date without telling the other party what her true intentions were. Samira had decided to take on that challenge. She wore her best dress on that particular day. A dress that flattered her curves and left almost nothing to the imagination. She had decided that she would take charge. She would choose the place, pay the tab, and put all her cards on the table. After all, shouldn't the perfect man——the one who would inevitably break her heart——understand her as completely as only those who truly loved their partner, can?

Then came Jerry.

Jerry who had worn a tie which matched her red dress.

Jerry who had made her feel at ease as soon as they came into each other's orbits.

Jerry who, after listening to what she had to say, raised a hand so he could signal for the waiter to come on over with their best bottle of merlot.

Jerry who had defied all expectations.

Jerry who had not only filled the emptiness, but healed her soul.

Jerry, whom she was now sharing the rest of her life with.