Chapter 1

 

     There’s a song that goes, “One way or another I’m gonna find ya, I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya…” After Macon and I broke up, this song seemed to play on my mp3 player lot. Then again, I did have the song on repeat. There was something about the melody of that song accompanied with its words that proved so motivating, encouraging really. I believed I really could get him back into my life.

     I’m the one who broke us.  According to Macon, I’m the one who “ruined” us. What a word to use for a failed relationship. RUINED. However, this is true. It was entirely my fault, I confess. Macon and I were unofficially together. We weren’t sure if we were dating, boyfriend and girlfriend. Yet, seeing other people was not an option for either of us. Yes, that kind of relationship. 

     I first met him at Howard Jones Hospital. His professionalism as the front desk receptionist alone was impressive. I almost felt a sense of chivalry to his tone.

     “May I help you?” I looked at his name tag. Macon. It was so close to my name, Macan; I couldn’t help but to feel a tad giddy.

     “Yes, Macon, I’m supposed to be starting my volunteer work today.”

He looked at a chart on his desk.

     “May I have your name?” He replied.

     “Macan—“

He looked up at me sharply, cutting me off with a mystified glance.

     “Macan Pierce”, I finished.

     “Macan, you’ll be in the blood drive department today. Will this be your first time giving blood?”

     “No! I mean yes! But, no, I can’t give blood. I freak out at the sight of needles alone--and the pain!” I delivered the most persuasive puppy-dog expression I could give.

     “Isn’t there something else I can do? I can sweep like you wouldn’t believe.”My alternative was so pathetic but he must’ve thought otherwise. He chuckled lightly.

     “I believe you. I‘ll tell you what; I’m going on my break in about 10 minutes. I’ve got you checked in. Why don’t you head down the hall to the blood drive, I’ll come down there and... I’ll help you through it.”

     “Macon.” That was all I could muster out. I hoped it came out in a thankful tone. Honestly, it was more of a ‘thank-you-for-coming-into-my-life’ kind of tone. He was soothingly sweet in little ways like that.  Even though giving blood was an embarrassing moment for me, Macon kept me coming back to give more.

     Macon soon met my friends at college; the ones who were so eager to meet him anyway. Mandy, my closest friend who always demanded a daily update, coined Macon and I as the most perfect couple she’d known. Macon and I were perfect for each other and often joked about how similar our names are. Sounding alike but spelled differently, if we were married and someone asked for a Macon Crawford, we’d have to ask, Mr. or Mrs.?

     September became my favorite month just because of him. We flirted a lot, made out a lot. We did a lot of everything really. So I figure at this time, seeing as it was three months later, I should bring up the R word. Macon loved how things were between us and didn’t feel we needed the GF/BF titles. I grew confused by this but trusted it nonetheless. But after knowing him this long, I was wondering if he found me sexually appetizing. I just asked him plainly. “Would you want to have sex with me?” Instantly blushing Macon only smiled. That would be a yes. I went through my mind, counting the few men I had been intimate with. Only five.  So that would make Macon six. Six, I thought. Hmm, this cannot be.            

     There is something you should know about me. I am a strong believer of three things: fate, love and superstition. I believe everything happens for a reason and love is a power we all possess and I NEVER walk over lines on the sidewalk and cross my fingers for good luck. I thought, Macon is such a special person, he can’t be number six. He must be number seven. He’s got to be lucky number seven.

     That’s when I ruined everything. Macon became number seven, but he also found out about what I had done. Though I didn’t bear to explain my reasoning behind it I knew that fate, love and superstition were no excuse. Infidelity was unacceptable and that’s what ruined us. RUINED.

     He cut me out of his life instantly. I was heartbroken myself. I couldn’t believe how this just came crumbling down. I was bedridden for days. I stopped volunteering at the hospital. I remained in bed all day listening to my mp3 player. I had that song on repeat. I wanted him back so bad. I learned my lesson immediately. But he did not want me back. Life as I knew it had ended. I was demoted from possible GF to not even friends. But as “Someone he thought he knew”.

     Explaining the abrupt transition of my singleness to my friends was a difficult task in my mind and was only revealed to Mandy. Mandy lived in my dorm, a couple doors down. She became the nicest person to ever enter my life. To judge people was not even an item in her top 100 things to do in life. That was enough to confide in her about the tragedy I caused; well, that and her constantly nagging me about why I’ve been depressed since December 7.  It was time to let her know.

    “Macon and I are over.” What I only mildly whispered, Mandy shouted.

     “You and Macon are over!?”

     “Oh, Mandy don’t scream it!” I couldn’t help but cry now. “Oh, Mandy, I’ve done the unthinkable, the most awful. I--”

     I could only finish with a long exhaling cry. Mandy held me in that friendly way she always did. Usually, this would make me feel tons better, but nothing could lighten my depression, now worsened by this painstaking reminder of what I had done. Not even sweet Mandy. Although, hugging her did calm me down just enough to continue.

     “I cheated on him, Mandy. I thought he was special and …I know it’s the dumbest thing in the world. How ridiculous of me. I wish I could take it back. I did it out of superstition…I lost him…I lost him, Mandy. Macon…”

     I broke down and this time Mandy’s embrace could not distract me from wailing.

     I could tell Mandy really wanted to understand. I think on some level she did. At the same time, I could see on her face that what I did was an unforgivable thing.

     When Christmas came I felt no need to go home to family. I stayed in the dorm and tried to convince myself that I could somehow survive without ever leaving my room. Knowing I would get calls from family and friends when they realized I hadn’t gone home, I kept my phone on just in case of some out of the blue emergency. During those next few weeks until New Years most of the messages that came through were from my sisters.

   “Macan, it’s Laina. I read about you and Macon on your online journal…actually I signed in as you and read your entry about Macon. Sorry and sorry. Call me.”  

   “Macan, it’s Lin, Laina told me what happened with Macon. There are others out there. Keep your head up, call me back.”

    All messages suggested keeping my head up, staying positive and moving on. Though it had just been almost two weeks, these suggestions were not going to be considered.          

     I made the perfect guy go away but I yearned for his return. One way or another I am gonna win him back. I grabbed a pen and a random piece of paper and that’s when my mind went to work. Just call him?...No, that won’t work. Write him a letter apolo—no. Pretend nothing happened?

     I chuckled at my pathetic approach to winning back Macon’s heart and most importantly his trust. If there was just some way I could make him see it was a horrible once is a lifetime decision, an utterly stupid choice, he’d reconsider going back to unofficially dating or just friends without benefits at least. I decided sleep would be the best distraction for me at this point. I threw my stupid idea of a list in the trash. I’ll think of something tomorrow.

     The next day was Christmas Eve and overnight I had collected a whole new batch of messages. Based on the messages, my sisters were more concerned about me being with family than trying to console me over a RUINED relationship. “Macan, it’s Laina. Somehow Mom found out about you and Macon, call me back”, “Macan, it’s your mother. Laina told me about Macon.”     

   Every time I heard Macan or Macon I only thought of Macon and I...and what I RUINED. And did Laina tell the whole world about us? I listened on. “We’re on our way to visit you, sweetheart, just the girls. It’s half past eight now, so be expecting us around 10am. See you soon.”

   See me soon? I read 9:56am on my clock. I’m dreaming, I thought. I rummaged through my laundry for the cleanest t-shirt I could find. The only t-shirt I found in site was the “I donated blood” tee I got from Macon when we were first going out. Kill me now was all I could say to myself. After changing into a half decent outfit I tried to tidy my hair. By the time I got my hair gathered up in my hands there was already a knock at my door. Screw it. My hair fell lifelessly back into its messy state.

   I could hear Laina’s voice through the door. “I bet she looks like crap.”

I opened the door and wiped any form of a hopeful smile on their faces into a gaping jaw drop. “Macan” they all said in unison as they made their way in not taking their eyes off me. Laina muttered, “Told ya.”         

   “I really just wanted to be alone”, I confessed.

   “It’s been two weeks now, come on, Macan. You’ve started to grow mildew on yourself. I don’t get it, all this over a boy?” Lin never understood how some women pretty much shut themselves off from the world after a breakup.

   “I don’t want to talk about him. And he wasn’t a boy. He was a 23 year old angel.”    

   “ And? You’re a 21 year old rarity. Someone else is gonna love you better.”

   “ No, I don’t want anybody else. We’re not talking about him.”

   I can tell Lin was only trying to make me feel better but I didn’t want any form of comforting. I just wanted to let the heartbreak takes its course.

Mom tried her shot at getting a smile out of me by presenting me with food and a few gifts from the family. I admit it was kind of nice to have family around. Laina was of no help.

   “It smells in here.” What a killjoy she can be sometimes. Her comment only made me want to crawl back into bed except Mom kept pushing the gifts at me.  The first gift was from Dad. “Your dad said you could open this one now.” Wow. How did he know I wanted the exact same sweater he got me last Christmas? This one was going to the secondhand shop ASAP. The second was from Mom.  I was just about to open it when mom stopped me. “Wait until tomorrow for the rest.” Great, I’m practicing patience again. I couldn’t even wait the recommended 3 days Cosmo Magazine suggested to give Macon time to “cool off”.

   “I’ll try. Thanks, guys” I actually felt a tad bit distracted from my heartache. “Come home Macan. You know who’s been missing you since you started this semester? Ocean.”

   I found Ocean three years ago on the coast of the Pacific Ocean during a family vacation in San Francisco. Of course I’m sure he belonged to someone else. But as the sun began the set I’d noticed the young Australian Terrier roaming the beach still since we arrived at 4 that evening. When I went to search his collar for a name tag I found a note that read, “I need an owner” instead. After showing my parents, they suggested maybe staying around a bit to see if anybody claimed him. But as the moon replaced the sun and we were he only ones left it was safe to assume I would be this dog’s new owner. I named him Ocean as a reminder of where he was found, bonding the moment I knew he was mine.

   I was sad that Ocean couldn’t come to live with me in my dorm. My mom promised me she’d care for him while I was away and whenever school let out for  Summer or Winter vacation I rushed home to smother Ocean with all the love I could muster.

   Okay, my mom pulled the trump card that would get me home no matter how much my depression forced me to my dorm room. A part of me was glad I peeled myself from bed, showered and went home for Christmas with my family and my Ocean.