Scar in the Sky

I woke up with a start. 1

My arms were around Amanda, my girlfriend, and we were sitting on my couch. She had come over to work on a History project with me, and we’d started on it… but we got distracted, as always. Before I knew it, we were on my couch in a lip-lock. As always.2

I sighed heavily; directly afterward, I checked to see if she was as deeply asleep as I had been. She was leaning against me, her head resting against my chest. Her highlighted blonde hair was hiding what little of her face I could see.3

Carefully, so carefully, I peeled my arms away and gently pushed her off me so that she was lying down. She stirred, but she didn’t wake.4

It was getting dark out already. I could see the faint light on the horizon through my dirty bedroom window, pink and orange and purple. It was beautiful.5

“Yeah,” I sighed. It was beautiful. But it didn’t mean anything anymore. 6

A jet slowly traveled across the sunset-splattered sky, leaving a long white mark. It arced and curved, and I watched as it disappeared from my line of sight. The only evidence of its journey up above was a line that looked—to me—like a scar.7

I wished that that sunset, so colorful and beautiful, would mean something again.8

My eyes tore themselves away from the window as I made myself turn around and watch Amanda sleep. She was breathing steadily, snoring softly. She was somewhat sprawled on the couch now; she must have moved from where I’d set her down.9

After a while, I couldn’t watch anymore.10

I went over to my old, beaten, camouflage-patterned armchair and sat down, picking up the iPod Nano that sat on the end-table. It was black and scratched, but I loved it—I owned few other objects capable of keeping me sane.11

I absently flipped through the songs, looking blankly at the titles. I had so many on my iPod that I never listened to. Amanda put them on there so that whenever she came over, she could listen. Personally, I hated the kind of music she liked.12

A song title caught my attention. “Lips of An Angel,” I mumbled, selecting it. 13

I glanced at Amanda, who was still sleeping on my couch. A deep, heavy feeling set in my chest.14

See, the thing was… I didn’t love her. I knew I didn’t.15

And I had the feeling she didn’t love me either.16

I looked back out the window; in the few moments I had spent watching Amanda sleep and sat down, the sky had only grown darker. The long white scar left behind by the jet had widened, blurring at the edges, but it was still clearly there. I could no longer see the sun.17

Most of the other guys my age—at least, that I knew—would think I was a fag for watching sunsets, listening to love songs, and being romantic. I wasn’t completely sure why I was different, but I had a feeling.18

I had the feeling that it was because of Emma.19

Emma was the first person to ever, ever, like me. She was the first girl I had ever known that actually enjoyed being with me, talking to me, and doing crazy, random, amazing things that I didn’t understand. Needless to say, I had fallen for her first.20

She was the exact opposite of Amanda. She had hair that was darker than her black nail polish—naturally, without dyeing it—but had the brightest, deepest brown eyes I had ever seen. Her voice was symphonic, a masterpiece of sound, and her laugh was even more amazing. Emma was what most of us would call an over-achiever, taking every Honors course known to teenaged man and acing it without difficulty. She was too perfect, especially for me.21

Eventually, I asked her out; I was man enough to do that, at least. It took me a long time, though: over a year. My friends were disgusted by my lack of guts—although they had long been telling me to “grow some balls.” 22

Nobody had ever seen her so happy. Emma beamed every time she saw me, blushed when I took her hand, and smiled the most gorgeous smile when I put my arm around her. I was happy too. I finally had a girl, an incredible one who made all the other guys jealous.23

We were perfect together. We fit like two pieces of a puzzle, and it bothered me for some reason. It was too perfect. SHE was too perfect. What did I ever do to deserve something—or someone—so great? I hadn’t! So, despite the fact that I was falling in love with Emma, I decided to put an end to our relationship. It wasn’t until later that I realized what a huge mistake that was.24

Dwelling on this, as I often did, the weight in my chest only grew worse. My iPod faithfully kept playing, but I didn’t want to listen to it anymore, so I turned it off and set it down.25

A loud buzzing noise suddenly jerked me from my thoughts. I recognized it as the sound of my cell phone vibrating. Quickly, I stood and crossed the room to my dresser to pick up the small device and open it.26

“Hello?” I asked softly, trying not to wake Amanda.27

The voice I heard on the other end shocked me. “I-Is that you, Sam?”28

“Emma.” My voice was barely audible, I was so stunned. I looked over at Amanda and walked into the bathroom, locking the door. “Why are you calling me, Emma?”29

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence on the line. Then, without warning, I heard her start sobbing.30

“Em?” I felt my stomach twist, using her old nickname again. I hadn’t used it in so long; I hadn’t talked to her in forever. 31

“Sam,” she choked, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”32

“Why are you sorry?” I was confused. “What happened, Em?”33

“I-I shouldn’t be bothering you. I-I shouldn’t have c-called.”34

“Em…” I murmured. “Please, tell me what’s going on. You wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important… and you’re crying.”35

“Am not,” she said defiantly, but I could hear the tears.36

“Don’t do that, it won’t help anything.”37

“Why do you care?” The question stung me. “You don’t care. I don’t think you ever did. You hurt me so bad, you couldn’t possibly….”38

I said nothing.39

Emma took a deep breath. “Forget it.”40

I knew what she was about to do, and I seized my chance, the only chance I had. “Emma, wait,” I said. “I’m sorry, too.”41

She said nothing.42

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted—I never meant—God, I was only being selfish. I care, Emma. I’ve always cared, and I’ll always care. Just… just don’t hang up yet.”43

Emma sighed. “Do you realize how much you hurt me? I couldn’t believe it when you broke up with me… there was nothing wrong.”44

I could hear her voice breaking again. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”45

“You didn’t just hurt me, Sam, you completely and utterly destroyed me. Why do you think I haven’t dated anyone since then? I have no heart left to give.”46

“Does your brother know you’re talking to me?” Jonathan loathed me. “Won’t he want to kill me?”47

“He won’t. I won’t let him.”48

“What a relief.”49

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm! You know how hard it was to hit ‘send’? Do you realize what it took to call you? How hard it was to do it, yet how impossible it was not to call you sooner?” She was crying again.50

I let this sink in. When I spoke again, my voice was soft. “Emma… I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”51

“Like hell you are,” she sniffed. “You’re not sorry.”52

“I am,” I insisted. “I swear, I am. I’m sorry I was—am—such an idiot, and I wish I could take everything back. You don’t know what I’ve been through because of this, either.”53

“I thought this is what you wanted.” More sobs. “A hot, air-headed cheerleader who doesn’t care about you… just how often you make out. How could this possibly be hard for you?”54

“That hurts, Emma. It really does.”55

“Oh, I’m sure.”56

Dammit, what had I done to her? “Emma, please. It hurts because… every night… you torture the hell out of me.”57

She was silent.58

“I dream the same thing, over and over. But it’s not a dream—it’s a living nightmare. It’s my life, played back a million times, murdering what little happiness I kept hidden away. It kills me, Emma, because I still love you.”59

She gave a soft, shuddering gasp. 60

“Please… don’t hang up,” I whispered.61

“Why would you break up with me if you love me?” she asked tearfully.62

“This is going to sound really stupid… but I thought you were too good to be true.”63

“God, you ARE an idiot.” A weak laugh.64

“Hold on.” I unlocked the bathroom door and peeked out; Amanda was sitting up, looking around, and fixing her hair. “My girl is in the next room, and she’s awake now.”65

“O-oh.” Crap. I knew that tone.66

“It’s not like that,” I said quickly. “We were doing our History project, and we… we just fell asleep.”67

“I see.”68

“Emma, I wouldn’t ever do anything like that. Not with anyone. Especially not with anyone I wished was you.”69

We were both silent for a few moments.70

“Did you see the sunset?” she suddenly asked.71

Surprised, I answered, “Yes.”72

“That big, long line that the jet left? Didn’t it look like a scar?”73

I frowned. “Yeah, it did.”74

“It’s gone now.”75