Chapter 6
I wanted to apologize, really, I did. Don’t look at me like that! I can’t just do it. I didn’t have any idea how to form the right words, and I’m not just going to move in with him. Just because he wants me to is not a good reason for me to just give up all my principles and move in with him.
I don’t want to owe him any more than I already do!
I am self-sufficient. I am an independent woman…I am... I am an adult. A fully functioning adult! I don’t need someone else to spend their time taking care of me! I’m doing fine all by myself.
I don’t need him.
Apparently, misery was just as much an inspiration in my art as any other. All day I created pieces that emotionally chart my brooding emotions, each stroke of the brush filled with my sorrow, anger, annoyance, sadness, and anger once more.
When it was finished, I just dropped my body onto my bed and slept. It was finished when I was exhausted when the muscles in my arms cried out with the strain and my eyes struggled to stay open.
It didn’t even occur to me that I didn’t eat a thing all day until the next morning.
That morning, my stomach snarling is what woke me up. Oh yeah, food. I sort of need that in order to continue thriving. I always forget that when the artistic mood strikes me. Even so, I first checked my phone. My heart jumped into my throat.
He texted me back!
I read and reread the short text several times, making sure I was completely aware of what it meant and not missing any deeper meaning. That was a dumb idea, that there would be some deeper secret meaning to the text he sent me. He is always straightforward, and that’s usually one of my favorite things about him. But I couldn’t help but hope, maybe, just maybe, he did have some deeper meaning.
The text was… long for a text. But short and concise for his usual messages to me.
[Damian <3 <3]: I apologize for my outburst. Work has been stressful and it got to me. That is in no way an excuse, as my behavior was clearly inexcusable. I would like to give you my assurance that it will not happen again.
Work? Was work the trouble? Is this just an excuse? Or is it the truth? Is his work hard? What? He can’t just send that and not follow it up with any greater explanation about what on Earth he thought he meant!
[Clarissa]: I understand. I’m sorry for my response. I should have been more understanding.
[Damian <3 <3]: Don’t even think this is your fault for a second. I am the one at fault here.
I smiled softly at that. He’s so sweet and understanding and oh my god, how did I ever go one second allowing him to think I was really mad. I sighed dreamily and then quickly typed in the question I’ve been dying to ask.
[Clarissa]: What exactly… is work? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.
A risky test, I know. But come on! Don’t I deserve to know? I mean, he knows everything about my work. Now he knows everything about his life. But I can’t even know what he does? That’s not even fair.
Come on! Why hasn’t he texted back yet? God damn it.
Come on, Clarissa. Just chill. I mean, he’s probably just busy with something. Maybe he shut his phone off to charge. Maybe he read it and won’t respond. He doesn’t have read receipts on, so I physically cannot know for sure either way.
Why can’t he have read receipts on so I don’t have to freak out?
Chill Clarissa. Put the phone down for right now. Be an adult like you tell yourself you are so often. Go get some food, post your most recent works to your website to see if anyone wants to buy it, and then just watch TV or something. Enjoy your day off, don’t be hung up on him all day.
How do I make it seem so easy? Just ignore it. Like that isn’t so much easier said than done! I mean, he doesn’t even ever really respond. And when he does his bullshit way of responding, it is hours later! Literally, five hours later and I get this bullshit message! I can’t believe it.
[Damian <3 <3]: Anything that keeps me away from you is work, Love.
Can you believe that bullshit?
[Clarissa]: That’s not an answer!
[Damian <3 <3]: Then I’m sorry.
[Damian <3 <3]: I love you too much for time away from you to be anything else.
I growled and threw myself onto my bed. God damn it! Why can’t he give me a single straight answer?!
[Clarissa]: He’s so obnoxious!
[Kitty]: Sure, he is. But you love him. What’s the problem anyway?
[Clarissa]: He won’t tell me what his job is!
[Kitty]: Idk. He might be a drug dealer, honestly.
I rolled my eyes at the comment and didn’t even bother to reply.
[Kitty]: Maybe he has an embarrassing job? Like a caddy. He might be embarrassed.
I laughed at the response.
[Clarissa]: You always make me feel better, Kitty.
[Kitty]: I know. I’m the best.