I Never Knew I Loved You

• Kristen Febey, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2010

He had sat by her for days, for weeks, for months. He had sat by her all year, she’d never missed a day. Now she was gone. And he knew she wouldn’t be back. ‘Killed herself, so young...’ the words echoed repeatedly in his head.
He slumped against his desk and stared at hers. For just one second, he closed his eyes and pretended she was there, sitting right next to him again, smiling and chattering at him, laughing when he didn’t.
“Why are you always so cold? Why don’t you talk to me? It’s not like I’m diseased or something” she had once said, laughing nervously when he rolled his eyes. He wondered now what would have happened if he’d laughed too, if he’d smiled and said “Sorry”
He sneaked a peek from his peripheral vision, she looked like a kicked puppy, staring at the floor, but he just turned away, trying to ignore the voice in his head “She’s beautiful, and she likes you. Give her a chance...” he ignored it.
When he rode the bus home, he saw the empty seat in front of his, ‘killed herself, so young, no friends...’ and bit back a sob. Just yesterday she’d sat there smiling back at him. But he hadn’t smiled back, just gazed sulkily out the window, Pushing her away.
He got off the bus, and remembered her tentative smile the day before. The last time he saw her, rain flattening her mahogany curls. She had looked so sad. And he hadn’t cared. ‘Killed herself, so young, no friends...’
As he trudged home her voice echoed so faint, from the day before. “Bye” He’d thought he imagined that she’d said, “Goodbye forever.” He’d just shrugged and waved half heartedly, and he could see the pain of rejection in her eyes. ‘Killed herself...’
He remembered the voice crackling over the PA, “Students, I have some terrible news,” the voice stumbled over her name, “has... is dead. There will be a service this afternoon. That is all.” The voice cut off, and he heard the murmurs, “Killed herself...”
When he got home, he flopped on his bed. “Why do I even care?” he asked out loud, startled by sound of his voice. “Because you loved her” the voice in his head whispered, he shook his head. “No.” But he knew he was lying. ‘Killed herself, so young ...’
He fell into a fretful sleep, and her face kept appearing in front of him, rain soaked, and sad, smiling so hopefully. Why hadn’t he said something, anything? Why had he ignored her, why hadn’t he cared before? ‘Killed herself, so young, No friends...’
He sat up in his bed in a cold sweat. He remembered her last morning, how she’d tried to sit next to him, and he’d moved to another seat, how crestfallen her face was. “Your fault” the voice whispered. ‘Killed herself, so young, no friends...’
“Oh, god” He thought, it was his fault, he’d been there, seen her sadness, her loneliness, like his, and he hadn’t done anything. She’d tried to get close, to feel wanted, and he hadn’t allowed her that, hadn’t saved her. ‘Killed herself...’
The days blurred and the empty desk taunted him, day after day, blaming him, forcing him to believe she was gone, but he could see her so clearly, like she had just left class early, he heard her voice, and he saw her smile, sometimes, he even smiled back...
The voice haunted his sleep; sometimes she was there too, smiling and holding his hand, leading him. But she always led him to the cemetery, to the cold grey stone. Then she’d disappeared, her sadness reappearing as she faded. But he always went with her.
When he woke up, he would stare sadly at the mirror in front of his bed, he always stared until he saw her face and then he whispered, “I’m sorry, so, so sorry, I didn’t know I loved you, I did, I loved you so much, but I couldn’t let myself love you.”
But then the sweet illusion would fade, and he’d be alone again. “You didn’t have to be alone, you could have had her.” The voice whispered, and he shuddered, again holding back the tears. ‘Killed herself, so young, no friends...’
He remembered every day, every conversation, every time he stared at her lips, or listened to her soft voice, and every time, he pretended she didn’t exist. “You should be happy, now you don’t have to pretend” The voice mocked him, and he knew it was true.
He felt the heavy cold weight of her loss, how he’d lost his chance to really love her. ‘If only I hadn’t ignored you, If only I’d answered. If only I’d let myself love you.’ A tear ran down his cheek. ‘Killed herself...’
‘I wish I had told you, I wish I had known, I wish I had realised what you were to me before... before you died, because of me. Because I never knew I loved you... and then I loved you too late.’