I want to break something. 

But there’s nothing nearby but me and the car, and that’s a bad combination, so I guess I have to go without my pity party.

For now.

Calmate, Licita.

But I don't want to be calm. I want to-

Stop.

I feel like I’ve gone off on these rambles a thousand times, though I always know they're not going to get me anywhere. 

I get it, okay?

So why does it always feel like the most comfortable option at moments like these?

Better than crying - better than j…

Better than giving up.

Better than trying not to feel anything.

I just want to scream like I’ve totally lost my mind-

Maybe I have. Over and over again…

-Until my throat burns, and my lungs burn, and my ears ring with the sounds of my agony.

Apathy.

I don’t care about you. I don’t…

But that can’t make you un-not-exist. I’ve tried…

Life doesn’t only take away the things we love.

Flipping down the car’s sun visor, I check my reflection in the little, dusty mirror, forcing myself to remember that I’ll be meeting up with Kat in like thirty minutes.

I want to look pretty. Right now, I just look psychotic.

With a sigh, I smooth my rumpled hair and tie it back into a low ponytail - scrub off part of my lipstick with the back of my hand before getting a makeup wipe to remove the now-smudgy mess properly.

Now I look less.

Like her.

At least, the pretty little ladylike day-to-day version of her, and more like the version I’d see some nights when she came into the room in her white nightgown looking like some kind of shimmery moon fairy to put Andrew back in his bed because he’d escaped for the tenth time. She’d try to sing him a hurried lullaby as all her frazzled black hair streamed over her shoulders like ribbons made of the night sky, and I’d listen from where I lay wrapped up in too many blankets because she was so sure I was going to freeze…

If I have to be…

I don’t want to think about her…

But if I have to be like her at all, that’s the version I can live with becoming, if I can never live with anything but her haunted, haunting memory ever again.

I’m okay…without you…I don't miss…I never miss…

I feel like drizzle as I make my way into Kattar’s dark apartment, where all the curtains are drawn. I feel like mist, coating over the sky in shades of weepy black, without real tears, just darkness and heavy, soggy fog.

Kat is on his computer, but he looks up with a surprised yet inviting smile when he sees me enter because I forgot to knock, but the smile fades when he notices my face.

“What’s the matter?” He asks quickly, and I see that slightly sickened dread - 

Dread…of having to deal with more of my mess?

I’m sorry.

I know you’re afraid of this.

It’s on every inch of his face as he props himself up a little heavily with the help of the armrest, causing his chair to roll slightly.

I’m not sure what I’m here for.

He was expecting something nicer…I’m sure…

I sink down onto the end of the couch closest to where he sits and just sigh, simmering for a long time in the black without saying anything, before I whisper - almost just mouth the words, “I’m just…so…”

I shake my head and dare to say that scary truth, nobody…

…Nobody wants to hear from someone they love, covering my mouth with my fingers like that could keep some of the scariness from leaking through with it - and the tears.

“I don’t think I want to exist today.”

Kattar’s face says he doesn’t fully register what I’m saying.

Maybe that’s better.

He’s worried anyway, just…not quite worried enough, as I watch him shake his head with a sympathetic twitch to the turn of his mouth as he says, “You got through the work day though. Go you.”

I smile meekly, almost laughing my “thanks” as he brushes one of my curls back from my face.

“But now I feel like I’ve run myself to empty and my engine just…,” I sigh again, motioning with my hands rather than finishing the statement as the sound comes out shakily. 

Today was going so well too, despite everything, until Emelia brought up Mother’s Day-

“Something else happened,” Kat says suddenly, and I look up to see the change in his expression. “What did she say? Your agent…Miss…Misses…?”

“It wasn’t her this time,” I almost want to laugh again, but the sound doesn’t make it past a sort of unsteady exhale. 

Even Emelia can’t hold a candle to this kind of disquiet. She doesn’t know a word harsh enough to paint me these shades of black and blue.

And yet somehow…

“She told me that this women’s lifestyle magazine, “Boa,” wanted to buy permission to use my painting of the peonies for the cover of their Mother’s Day issue…”

Kat sucks his teeth involuntarily.

I know.

I’ve brought this up too many times.

I know I’m a downer. I know I’m no fun. I know I’m 98% clouds and only 2% sunshine, and it’s not that pleasant to be around me when I get stuck in this…

Sorry.

You’ve heard it too many times.

But I can’t help it.

Putting my face in my hands, I try to push back the waterworks as they set to flowing again, furiously and wearily.

“I’m sorry, Kitty Kat. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do anymore…” 

If I ever did. The words are bitter, but I can’t swallow them. Can’t keep them back - can’t lie. I’m not even sure if I’m angry or just tired of fighting this…

“I don’t even care if it makes me a bad person,” it’s spilling, “I just want to forget about her. Totally. Completely.”

“That’s understandable,” he offers slowly.

“No, it’s not!” I growl through the tears, not sure who I’m angry with or if it’s everyone. “You’re supposed to adore your mother and to want to talk about and praise her.”

I sit up quickly, with a sarcastic wave of my hand like I’m a pageant girl accepting her crown.

“I’d like to thank the Veggera Foundation for giving me this award, for considering my little doodles worth their time and a place in their gallery. And I’d like to thank my mother for always always being there to support me…” 

I choke on the venom, the hollowness, spitting each word more rabidly than the last as I rave, “for ALWAYS making time for me. For ALWAYS fighting for me to have the best out of my life - for making me feel loved and safe and cared for-” 

I’m losing it.

The words fall away into sobs until I can’t breathe. I can’t even will myself to try to stop, though I know what a mess I must look like right now.

Kattar rolls his chair over to the front of the couch and uses the armrest to help him to his feet so he can sit down on the cushions beside me.

I can feel him sliding me over to him and into his arms as if I’m weightless, but I don’t look up as he smooths my messy hair, putting his lips to the top of my head.

“I hate her!” I shiver.

“You don’t hate her, you’re just angry right now.” 

But I know that’s not true, as I shake my head, hugging him tighter.

“I do. I wish I didn’t, but I do.” 

He just keeps stroking my hair and says nothing, and I listen to his heartbeat mix with my own, my face pressed up against his chest. I breathe in wool and evergreen scents that scream of the outdoors, but I feel like I’m sinking further into that black box of feelings pushed aside.

“Kattar…I’m stuck…,” I whisper, waiting to see if he’ll respond, but he doesn’t do anything but hug me a little tighter. “I feel like I’m trapped in a black hole, and it just keeps getting smaller and smaller on its way to totally destroy me. But I don’t know how to get out or…anything. I can’t think anything. I can’t finish anything. All my artwork is turning out garbage, and I'm worried I’m just about to lose everything.”

I turn my head just slightly and feel Kattar’s face against mine, the tears spreading from my cheeks to his like a contagion. 

I c…

I just shake my head.

“Why did I ever think I could do this, Kitty Kat?” 

He laughs breathlessly, his smile a little crooked as he grins at me, and his own eyes glitter blackly with watery stars, “Do you want me to say the obvious?” 

When I don’t respond, he puts his hand to my cheek, smoothing it gently like he’s afraid of bruising my petals.

“Because sometimes, those voices in your head tell the truth.” 

I feel my smile, despite the tears still slipping drowsily down my face, and it’s suddenly all I can do to keep my eyes open.

I just want to sleep…

“I just feel so scrambled all the time…,” I mumble, feeling his arms around me again. “I’m not sure what to put in my exhibit…” Absent-mindedly, my hand goes to his sweater sleeve, and I grip the fabric between my fingers.

…Sweater seems weirdly familiar…

“Would you be willing to go with me to the museum to see the section they’re dedicating to my collection and help me brainstorm…?”

I can feel him smiling and look up drowsily to see the sweet, sunshiney grin on his face, but then suddenly, it fades.

“What?” I ask a little worried, trying to rub the sleepiness out of my eyes as I sit up straight again.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head quickly, his expression still sobered, “What day?”

“Thursday?”

“Then yes.”

I feel my mouth open, but then I close it again, not sure how I want to phrase the question or even what I want to ask.

What other plans does he h…?

But before I can ask, somebody knocks on the front door, and I nearly jump out of my skin. 

Kattar glances at the door and then back over at me, smiling apologetically, his face flushing with discomfort.

“Caregivers.”

Again and again and again.

The embarrassment, frustration, shame, or whatever it is, is catching, and I redden miserably myself rising quickly to open the door.

“I should go home anyway.”

I just catch a glimpse of his expression as I put my hand on the doorknob.

Disappointment?

But if he’s upset, he doesn’t say anything.

If you would just say something I would…

What?

It’s too late, anyway.

I swing the door open and greet the caregivers with my best business smile, and step out of the way for them to come in.

The men smile so sincerely, and I feel bad for wishing them away.

It’s not their fault…

But when I glance back at Kattar, he’s not looking at me again, sitting motionlessly with his head resting on his hand like he’s frozen.

And I almost doubt whether he was ever crying, smiling, kissing…me or maybe he was just a beautiful enchanted statue I imagined to life…somehow, just for a minute, and when the spell fades away, things go back to the way they’ve always been.

“How are we doing today Mr. Moon?” one of the caregivers smiles, “Pretty sunny week we’ve been having, though it’s still awfully cold. Should I open the curtains?”

Kattar looks up now and nods serenely, smiling at the four men, with that perfect, pristine turn of his mouth, devoid of emotion - true expression. 

And just like that, he ceases to be mortal, again.