Relief Within Heartache
By: Kellie Burley
Tags: Life, Relationships, Breakups, Heartbreak, Family

I put my items from the closets, drawers, and cabinets into piles. I work best with a task, or a form of distraction. My mother, sisters, and best friend are here now and I go sit in the bedroom, pretending I’m packing up.

Instead, I sit on the bed, staring out the window, listening. I hear the bags and boxes being filled up by my best friend and then picked up and carried down the stairs, into the truck by my sisters and my mother.

Footsteps and grunts down the stairs, “Turn, turn,” or “Okay, I got it, I got it.”

The bed of the truck makes loud sounds each time a bin is dropped into it. I can hear it all from outside the window and what I hear is permanence.

In the heat of a battle, I have ripped out every item I’ve ever owned before, and been certain I was leaving. Three times I was so close. One time, all of the items stayed out for a month, but they always went back into their places.

I am not a stranger to the idea of leaving, I’ve thought it up with my own mind. It’s the hearing of the leaving, that I did not prepare for. Each trip they take to fill up the truck with my life, a piece of hope leaves too. The relationship, the comfort, the memories, the future, now changed for good.

It’s over.

Sitting on the bed, looking out the window, listening to my choice to leave unfold all around me. I cry the cry that is silent with hot tears, where each sob takes breath from my chest eight times ’til I need to gasp. I cry the cry to the point where my soul aches, and silent sadness is impossible to keep in anymore. So, I cry with sound for what feels like the first time since I was a child. The sounds of my crying are of complete agony and if the sounds were words they’d only consist of “Why, why, why, why…” on repeat.

I hear whispering in the kitchen and it sounds like they have taken just about everything. But, it seems like there could be a few things they are unsure of. I wipe my face when I hear them call me out. My mother, sisters, and best friend are by the cabinets where I had put some of my things. They look at me lovingly and they’re quiet. I try to look at their eyes in an effort to figure out what they want to know.

I can’t tell if they’re going to laugh or cry.

“So, um, what’s the plan for the canned goods?” My oldest sister asks. “Yeah, specifically, the black beans, there.” My other big sister points toward the cans. “As well as the four opened containers of half eaten almond butter,” my best friend also notes. My mom looks at me and her eyes say, “I didn’t want to make you come out here to answer this shit.” She’s ready to defend these cans if I need her to. I look at their faces and I look at the pile of pantry items that I, at some point, have apparently prioritized to make the big move with me to my sister’s basement. “The almond butters can go to the trash, but the black beans are coming with me,” I respond.

They pause and exchange looks with each other. I realized the absurdity at last and I burst out laughing. We are all in hysterics now. “Black beans are a necessity. Got it,” someone jokes. We keep laughing, but they don’t ask questions. Into the truck the special beans go.

It wasn’t about the beans for me, though. It was about making choices that bring me joy and do not compromise my wants or needs. He hated beans and they could never be in the chili.

Relief comes in the most unexpected moments by the most unexpected things. Today, relief from my heartbreak comes from a few cans of beans.

My future has chili in it and there will be beans, dammit.