Dear Ana: A Novel

People always assumed the worst day of my life was the day of my accident, but they were wrong. The day of my accident was the best day of my life. The worst day of my life was the one after my accident. The day I woke up. The day I came back to life.

Until last week, that is. Last week, the day I came back to life got bumped down a peg and was replaced with a new day. The day Noah left me. And no, it wasn’t the worst day of my life because he left me. As much as I would love to say that was the worst kind of pain I’d ever experienced, it wasn’t. I had encountered much worse trauma and had suffered through the deepest, most unbearable trenches of purgatory before I knew that a man named Noah Davidson even existed.

That didn’t mean his sudden absence in my life didn’t rip open a raging hole inside me and burn my soul with the fire of a thousand suns. The edges were so raw and scorching, no amount of water or tears could soothe them. It was a part of me now, and as sick as it was, I didn’t want it to go away. The pain was a reminder that he was real and not one of the cursed maladaptive fantasies I conjured up to distract myself from the realities of life. It hurt, but it was comforting at the same time. I welcomed the throbbing stings of torment because I knew the numbness would eventually follow. That’s when I realized what the real problem was, and it was the most powerful and intense ripple of distress I’d ever had to endure.

I was addicted to being sad.

It sounded crazy and ridiculous, but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. My life was always filled with stress. From the day my brain was coherent enough to understand what was going on around me, I was hurtled into a wave of chaos. Sadness was all I knew. Fear was the natural state my body was in at all times because it didn’t know how to relax. My brain was in a constant phase of fight or flight to protect my mind from going through any more irreversible damage. I couldn’t be happy, not because good things didn’t happen to me, but because I didn’t know how to. It was a foreign emotion that my mind couldn’t recognize and instead of letting myself be vulnerable and just experience them, I chose to take comfort in my misery because it was familiar. I was never going to get better because deep down inside there was a part of me that didn’t want to. I didn’t want to open myself up to new feelings because the only way to do that was to expose all the old wounds I had incorrectly bandaged in my haste to feel nothing, instead of allowing them to heal.

I lived within emptiness and emptiness lived within me, and I was ashamed of myself because I let that happen. I ripped everything down and sat idly by, waiting for the universe to write me a new path without putting in any effort. Waiting to move out. Waiting for my problems to fix themselves. Waiting to feel better without trying to feel better. Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.

The world didn’t want me to suffer, I did.

So what now? I thought desperately. How do I stop?

I listened patiently for the answer to appear. For the solution to magically reveal itself, but it never did. So I just sat in my car, watching as the snow slowly turned into rain, and wondered if maybe, God was crying with me too.

16days.

384 hours.

23,040 minutes.

1,382,400 seconds.

That’s how long it took for Noah to text me. Sixteen long and slow treacherous mornings and nights, but eventually, he did. And during those sixteen days I just . . . kept going. Because life didn’t stop when you wanted it to. Life didn’t stop when you needed a minute, so I went to work every day, I choked down dinner with my family every night and I did push-ups in my room until the sun rose. My old routine picked up exactly where it left off as if it had never paused in the first place.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cheat. I drove by his café a few times, hoping to sneak a glance but it was always closed. I wrecked his heart and his business. The only climactic thing that happened during those sixteen days was when Mikhail came home one night with a broken nose. He claimed that someone jumped him for no reason, and my parents ate it up, just like the obedient little pets they were. Whoever it was had a reason, I was sure of it, and I wished I could thank them.

The chances of Noah reaching out after everything were slim, which was crushing. I told myself not to hope. I told myself that even if he did reach out to me, it might not be to reconcile . . . whatever we had. Maybe he needed closure. Maybe he wanted the chance to yell, and scream, and properly end things with one final bang. I didn’t care. I would take it. I would grovel on my knees for hours if that would make him forgive me.

Whatever the reason was, I still flew to Espresso & Chill faster than he could finish typing. I saw him through the window, stacking up the last few chairs in the empty cafe. My body immediately yearned to be near him, to feel his hand in mine, on my face, in my hair. I couldn’t though, not until we talked. I took a deep breath to contain myself and pushed the door open.

He turned at my arrival and I stifled a gasp at his appearance. His dark and fluffy curls were longer, and he’d let his facial hair grow out. He looked . . . disheveled, and rough, and beautiful. I quickly skimmed him over, memorizing his body and all his features just in case this was the last time I would ever see him. I needed him to be engraved into my memory for eternity. My eyes stopped on the bandage wrapped around his right hand.

“Coffee burn,” he said, following my gaze. “It’ll heal in a few days.”

I sighed in relief as my stare found its way back to his face. My fingers itched to push the hair out of his eyes, but I stayed put. He had to make the first move. He stared right back at me and his lips slowly turned up into that small, lopsided smile I loved.

“Maya,” he whispered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Noah, so much,” I said quickly, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. I couldn’t stay still any longer, I needed to go to him. He was too far. I took a step, but his next words stopped me.

“We need to talk.”

Fuck.

I’d never been broken up with, so I wasn’t an expert, but I’d read enough books and watched enough movies to know that the phrase we need to talk was never a good sign. His solemn voice wasn’t making it any better.

“I think you should sit down.” He gestured to the only chair that wasn’t stacked up already.

I nodded and took a seat, pushing back the nerves threatening to overpower me. He didn’t pull out another chair and instead stayed at the counter.

He can’t even be near me.

“Maya . . .” he started slowly, looking away.

We’re done.

I don’t want to see you anymore.

I wish it was you in the ground instead of Ana.

“. . . I never told you the whole story. About what happened to Ana.”

“Um, okay. She didn’t die in a car accident?” I asked in confusion.

“No she did, but I left out some details. Not intentionally,” he assured me. “I would have probably told you eventually, I just wasn’t ready to talk about it. And I was also worried about what you would think of me if you knew the whole truth.”

“There’s nothing you can say that could change the way I think about you,” I told him sincerely. I didn’t want to talk about Ana––I wanted to talk about us. If there was still going to be an us.

He scrutinized my face, his expression guarded and uncertain.

“Noah, I don’t care,” I insisted, standing up from my chair. “Whatever you did, whatever details you left out, it doesn’t matter to me––”

“I hit someone,” he blurted.

The rest of my words dissolved in my throat. “What?”

He closed his eyes tightly, wincing, but forced the words out anyway. “I hit someone with my car . . . a girl. That’s how Ana died. She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and flew through the windshield from the force of the impact. She was declared brain dead before she even made it to the hospital.”

I stared at him in shock as I tried to process what he was saying. For the past ten years, I had wondered what happened to make her die but still have a beating heart, ready and healthy to live inside me instead.

“And the girl? What happened to her?”

“She survived.” His voice was a mix of relief and anguish.

“Okay, that’s great,” I told him, smiling.

He was still staring at me intensely, his eyes pleading. Pleading for what, though? What did he need? How could I protect him from the torment he was feeling?

“We were driving to the airport,” he started again.

“You already told me this.” What was happening? Why was he repeating himself? I felt like there was an elephant in the room that I just couldn’t see. What was I missing?

“We were driving to the airport, when . . . this black sedan came out of nowhere and swerved in front of us.”

Oh.

“They were speeding like crazy,” he continued quietly. “They stayed in front of us for a bit before cutting in front of the next few cars, almost getting hit by the traffic in the opposing lane.”

All the color drained from my face.

“Ana yelled at me and told me to drive better. It was the first thing she said to me since we were in my room. We started to talk, and then we started to argue, and suddenly the sedan stopped, causing a blockade, and all the cars were swerving into the other lane to get around. One second the road was empty, and the next this girl walked into the street––”

I took a step into the road, not paying attention when I heard a loud horn. I turned around, and to my horror, there was a black pickup truck heading straight for me––

“I beeped for her to move, but she just stood there––”

I knew I had to move, but I was frozen––

“I slammed on the breaks and started to swerve so I wouldn’t hit her, but everything was happening so quickly and the roads were icy––”

The truck continued hurtling toward me like I was a magnet and the laws of physics were too strong to keep it away from me––

“I was too late,” he said, his voice cracking.

And then everything went black.

I looked out the window but the only car there was mine.

“The black truck that was always parked outside . . . it’s yours?”

“Yes,” he admitted after a moment of silence.

Of course it was. How didn’t I see this coming? Why didn’t I expect this? Of course I would fall in love with the person who almost killed me.

Clearly, I had a type.

“How did you . . . I mean, how did you not recognize me this entire time?”

He ran his fingers through his hair frantically. “I only saw you for one blurry, split-second moment. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed and they were saying Ana didn’t make it––” He inhaled desperately. “I tried to find you, but no one would tell me anything or let me fucking see you.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until my vision was suddenly obscured. What was I supposed to do with this information? How was I supposed to proceed?

“Maya,” Noah whispered, rushing toward me. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around my abdomen tightly, pressing his forehead into my stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” he moaned into my shirt. “I am so fucking sorry. I can’t believe I––I fucking hit you with my car. This nightmare has haunted me for the last ten years, but when I found out that it was you I couldn’t even––” His voice broke and I felt wetness seeping through the thin fabric of my top and onto my skin.

He was crying.

And his pain . . . his pain felt worse than all my pain.

“I couldn’t live with myself when I found out,” he choked. “Finding out you were the girl I ran over almost killed me. I wish it was me. If there was some way I could change the past and put myself through all the pain I caused you, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

I combed my fingers through his curls, my own tears falling alongside his. He clutched me tighter, holding on for dear life.

“Please forgive me,” he begged desperately. “I will spend every last breath trying to make this up to you. I will grovel on my knees for the rest of my fucking life. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Maya, but I need it. I need you. You make everything better. Please, please, please forgive me, it was an accident. I swear I tried to stop. I swear, Maya, please, please, please say you’ll forgive me . . .”

“It’s okay, Noah, it’s okay.” I continued stroking his hair until I finally felt his shaking diminish into a tremble.

“Stand up,” I said, running my fingers down the sides of his face and nudging his chin lightly. “I want to see you.”

He gave me one more squeeze before standing up slowly. He kept his head low, refusing to make eye contact.

“Look at me,” I told him, pushing his head up and holding it tightly between my hands. “It’s not your fault,”

He finally met my stare with red and crushed eyes.

“I can’t forgive you because there is nothing to forgive. It’s my fault. I’m the one who jumped out of my car and walked onto a busy road––of course you wouldn’t have seen that coming. I should have stayed put. None of this would’ve happened if I didn’t jump.”

“Maya,” Noah said fiercely. “His driving was lethal. If you didn’t jump you wouldn’t have ended up on the road, but in the morgue instead.”

I tensed. “Did you . . . did you read . . .” I swallowed anxiously. “Did you read my letters?”

He cradled my face gently. “Not all of them. I couldn’t, um . . .” He winced, his eyes turning glassy again. “I read enough, and I can’t believe you . . . I can’t believe all this time you––” He leaned his forehead against mine, breathing raggedly. “I understand, okay? I understand why you never told me. I am so sorry for how I reacted. I am so sorry for everything, but you’re safe now, baby, I promise. I’m never going to let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again.”

He read my letters.

He knew about Mikhail. He knew about everything.

Someone finally knew.

Something was happening to me. My limbs suddenly felt flimsy––had they turned into rubber? My brain couldn’t comprehend––my mind didn’t know how to––

“You know?” I whispered, and he nodded strenuously. “And you . . . believe me?” His eyes shattered at my question, but I could still see his answer through all the broken pieces.

Yes.

But I couldn’t bring myself to properly process that information because it wasn’t enough.

“Still, it doesn’t excuse anything,” I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t handle his understanding, but I could handle his anger. I needed it. “I lied to you. If I didn’t jump, Ana wouldn’t have died. Don’t you get that, Noah? Everything is my fault. I killed her. I always felt responsible for her death and this just proves it. To make matters worse, they donated her heart without Ana’s permission to the person who murdered––”

“It was me,” he said quickly, interrupting me.

“What?”

“Ana wasn’t a registered organ donor,” he explained. “I was listed under her emergency contact and as her POA, so when they came in and told us that . . . you were dying.” He paused, grimacing. “I told them to give you her heart, Maya. I told them to save you.”

I told them to save you.

“Why did you do that?” I asked shakily.

They thought they were doing me a kindness, but in reality, they just dragged me back to hell.

My hands dropped from his face and before I could make any distinct decisions, they rose to his chest and shoved him. He stumbled away from me, not expecting my sudden movement.

And I will never, EVER, forgive them.

“Maya, what––?”

I reached out and shoved him again, harder. “Why did you do that?”

He looked at me, completely baffled. “What are you––?”

“Why did you tell them to give me her heart?!” I shrieked hysterically, all the years of pain crashing down on me all at once. “I was dying, Noah, why did you let them save me?!”

He stopped moving at my words. “Maya . . .”

“I was finally dying. I was finally going to be free from him, why did you let them save me?!” I banged my fists against his chest roughly, but he didn’t make a move to stop me or to protect himself. He just stood there, motionless, and let me take out all my despair onto him.

“Why did you let them save me?” I repeated irrationally over and over again, the tears coating my lips and pouring onto my tongue. “Why didn’t you let me die?” My movements slowed as I exhausted all my energy. Sensing this, Noah grabbed my hands and pressed me into the counter gently, holding my arms above my head. My stamina had been completely drained, so I didn’t bother trying to struggle against his grasp. I hung my head and succumbed to the weight of my tears, grieving the future I never got to have.

“Let it out baby, it’s okay,” he murmured into my hair.

“I wanted to die,” I sobbed, my resolve shattering as all the memories echoed loudly in my ears, torturing me all over again. “Why didn’t you let me die?”

“Shh, don’t let him win,” he breathed into my ear. “I couldn’t help my mom, okay? No matter what I did or said, she always chose her addiction over me until she . . . until it stole her away from me for good. I wasn’t enough for my dad to stay and love me like a father should love his son and Ana––” His voice snapped into bits. “Ana wanted more than what I could give her, and before she even had the chance to find her true soul mate and forgive me, she died right in front of my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But saving you . . .” He grazed my cheek with his nose, inhaling deeply. “Knowing that a decision I made gave you life . . . it saved me, Maya. You saved me.”

He carefully lowered my arms and stroked my face tenderly, wiping away the remnants of my tears.

“I don’t get it,” I whispered dejectedly. “Why don’t you hate me?”

“I could never hate you,” he stressed.

I pushed away his hands and crossed my arms. “Oh really? Because it didn’t seem that way when you stayed in here while I was screaming, and crying, and begging you to open the door for me,” I snapped, the hole inside me throbbing.

“I’m so sorry about that, Maya, but I had to call my parents to confirm that it was you who I . . . hit. And yeah, I was mad that you lied––”

“Exactly, you were mad.”

“Yes, I was mad. Anger and hatred are not synonymous with each other, Maya,” he retorted. “Of course I was mad and embarrassed that you . . . that I was so clueless this whole time, but I don’t hate you for fuck’s sake, I’m in love with you!”

My breath seized in my throat at his words, and I shook my head. “No, you’re not, Noah. Not after everything I did. Not after everything you know.”

His eyes narrowed. “I love you, Maya.”

You will never be loved, Maya.

“I love you,” he repeated louder.

You’re going to live the rest of your life alone.

He grabbed my face in his hands, forcing its movements to a halt. “I love you.”

You will never be loved, Maya.

“Maya,” he pleaded. “I love you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you can’t see how I feel about you. Don’t pretend you can’t feel how I feel about you just because you’re scared.” He stared at me intensely for a moment, his eyes dazzling and brimming to the top with emotion. “I know everything seems fucked up right now, but I can’t help and feel . . . ecstatic. I’ll forever be indebted to the universe for allowing us to exist in the same lifetime. I hate the twisted ways fate used when trying to bring us together, but ultimately . . . it worked. You’re here, and I’m here and I love . . .” He inhaled deeply, suddenly breathless. “I love you, and being with you over the last several months has made me feel whole and complete in a way that makes me certain I’ve been in love with you forever.” He paused, smoothing my hair back gently. “So you can say that you don’t love me back, Maya, but you can’t say that I don’t love you. You can’t say that my love for you isn’t limitless, unconditional and real.”

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall, surprised I had any left. “I can’t.”

He cupped my face in his hands, running his thumbs under my eyes to capture the moisture. “Is that really what you need? Even after everything, you still need to push me away? Why?”

“I wish I found you when I was healed,” I explained desperately. “I wish I was healed before I found you so that you could only know the best version of myself. The perfect version. I can be better than this, Noah, I promise.”

“I love you, Maya. Even the parts of yourself you think are too broken. Even the parts you don’t love about yourself. You are the best fucking thing that has happened to me, exactly the way you are. I’m sorry he made you believe that you need to be better. I’m sorry he made you believe that you couldn’t be loved.” He leaned in closer, the tip of his nose brushing mine. “But it’s been ten years and you’re still in pain from the past. Maybe the reason is that you’re not supposed to heal alone. We’re both made up of broken pieces, but when put together they seem to fit perfectly. Let me love you, Maya. Let me help you heal. Let’s heal together.”

He tilted his head lower, his lips just barely grazing my cheek, and I gasped, my heartbeat accelerating at the contact. He pulled back slightly, his eyes seemingly black in the dim light of his café, and I was suddenly hypnotized. My mouth was dry and my breathing was shallow––

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered into my ear. “I know you want me to, Maya. I can taste the desire emanating from you and luring me in like a Venus fly trap. Except I know your bite won’t be filled with poison . . . only lust and passion.”

He placed a small kiss on my earlobe and my eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation, everything around me disappearing as I drowned in the feeling of his lips on my skin.

“I know you don’t know how . . . let me walk you through it.” He placed small kisses up to my temple. “Your pulse is erratic; I can feel it beating against my mouth. Is that because of me? Do I make your heart race, Maya?”

I nodded quickly, the needful ache returning full blast. My eyes were closed but I knew he was leaning in closer because my skin was tingling with his proximity. His warm breath was on my face and his scent was swirling around me, mingling together with mine. Very gently and very slowly his lips brushed against mine, pressing down with the slightest bit of pressure before pulling back, testing the waters.

My breath caught and I touched my lips in astonishment, not believing these feelings could exist in real life but it wasn’t the same. The only person capable of provoking that intense thrill of euphoria inside me was Noah. I looked up at him, his eyes dark with desire, and without another thought, I knotted my fingers into his hair and pulled him back down toward me fiercely.

I fumbled around blindly for a second, not knowing what to do but needing to satisfy the overpowering hunger raging in my veins. I felt him chuckle against my lips before moving them with mine, sending shockwaves of passion and fire through me. I returned the pressure, mimicking his movements until our lips were in tune and moving simultaneously. Noah tilted his head slightly to the side, opening his mouth and kissing me harder, faster, frantic. I followed his lead, inhaling him in as my body registered the connection of our mouths in overwhelming elation. His hands stroked down the length of my body and curled around my thighs, lifting me onto the counter. My legs immediately wrapped around his torso and I dug my heels into his back, pushing him into me even closer.

He released my swollen lips and dragged his mouth across the length of my jaw and down my neck. I leaned my head back, my breathing unsteady as he peppered kisses in the indent of my collarbone, sucking gently on my flushed skin. I felt his hand slowly pull down the front of my shirt before brushing his lips against my scar. He looked up at me, pure love and devotion radiating through his eyes. “You never told me, Maya . . . do you love me too?”

“Do I love you?” I chuckled erratically at his stupid question. “You are my miracle, Noah Davidson. My heart used to form a new crack every day I woke up and realized that I was still alive––” I leaned in closer, not breaking away from his endearing stare. “Although it’s borrowed, fractured, and imperfect . . . my heart is still completely and undeniably yours.”

“And I, my love, am completely and undeniably yours,” he vowed against my lips.

I opened my mouth to kiss him again, but a gut-wrenching sound cracked through my lips instead.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered breathlessly.

I couldn’t speak. The relief or the pain––something was too overpowering for my mind to grasp.

“Maya, you’re scaring me.”

I met his gaze and forced myself to take a breath. I forced myself to finally take a proper breath of air. “I just––” my chest was heaving “––you know, Noah, and you . . . believe me.”

He wasted no time pulling me down from the counter and crushing me into his body. His arms wrapped around me tightly in an iron cage of safety. “I believe you, Maya.”

My bones were breaking.

My body––

My soul––

Someone finally believed me.

He lowered us to the ground because I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. I was on my knees and my head was in his lap and my core was shaking uncontrollably. Noah didn’t speak. He tilted his head down so it was leaning on mine. He stroked my face and my hair and my arms and continued to hold me as I desperately tried to comprehend the painfully relieving possibility that I was no longer alone in my torturous world.