There are certain moments in your life when your body doesn’t feel like your body, when reality feels like a dream – or rather a nightmare – because your heart and your mind reject reality. You fall into a state of numbness and all your energy is completely drained, your body succumbing to a chronic flood of pain and emotion. It’s a dull pain at first, and then it racks your body in sharp waves, and nothing can save you. Nothing can help.
Except for the one thing that caused you the pain.
I felt it when my mom left, when my dad stopped talking to me, and I feel it right now. Only this time, it’s not my family that’s causing it. And yet for some reason, this time seems to hurt worse.
Trista knocks on my doorframe, “Kellee? I brought you soup.” She brings in a tray and sets it on my bedside table, sitting down beside me. “You have to eat, you haven’t eaten in days.”
“I can’t,” I say softly, turning my head to face the wall away from the food.
Trista sighs, suddenly grabbing my arms and pulling me to sit up. “Alright, that’s enough. I’ve entertained your dramatics and let you lay in bed for three days now, but no more. We’re going out.”
I laugh. It’s a weak, measly laugh but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “You’re funny. Tell me another joke.”
“I’m serious, Kellee. Listen,” she sits back down. “You think you’re the first girl to get her heart broken by a stupid guy? I know the feeling you have right now. You don’t want to eat, you want to sleep to escape reality but then sleeping is even worse because of the fucking nightmares, and the thought of doing anything other than listening to sad music and crying literally makes you want to vomit.”
Yep. That’s pretty much it.
She takes my hand, which is kind of weird for us because although we’ve been roommates, our friendship hasn’t ever been the hand-holding, let’s-talk-about-our-feelings kind of friendship. “Trust me, I know. But as your roommate and self-proclaimed best friend in this damn city, it’s my duty to shake you out of this.”
“It’s not that easy,” I say, shaking a little.
“Of course it’s not, nothing in life is ever easy,” she says, squeezing my hand a little. “And nothing is going to help make you feel better, nothing but time. Unfortunately, time is one slow son of a bitch. So, until he shows up and washes away all the shit you’re feeling right now, we’re going to go out and we’re going to have fun and you’re going to fucking like it.”
I smile weakly. I really don’t want to move from under my covers right now, but I know she’s right. I know I have to start moving on. Honestly, I’m pissed at myself that he’s affecting me this way. The fact that I have to “move on” from him makes me angry, as childish as that sounds.
“I don’t even know why I feel like this, Tee. I’ve only known him a month,” the words tremble on my lips and I want to punch myself in the face. I sound like such a whiny bitch, but it’s like I have no control. My body has been infected. It’s hopeless.
Trista smiles softly, “Girl, don’t even try to force logic on a relationship between a boy and a girl. If there’s anything I’ve learned in this life it’s that love doesn’t follow rules. Love doesn’t care what should be or what’s ‘supposed to happen’ – it just shows up and we have to deal with it.”
“Love is a powerful word,” I say, repeating what I said to Mariah when she was asking me if I loved Tanner. I think of Mariah and wonder if she’s having an adventure with her Prince Charming right now. I wonder if it’s supposed to be that way, if we’re supposed to dream of our prince all our lives, or if we’re just setting ourselves up for heartbreak. Maybe I should visit Mariah and tell her the truth. It’s okay to burst a little girl’s fairytale bubble if I have good intentions, right?
“I don’t think I love him, but I feel something for him. Maybe it’s like middle school – I ‘like-like’ him.”
Trista rolls her eyes. “You’re right, love is a powerful word. But, it’s also not a word that’s supposed to fit into some kind of mold like you’re thinking. Love can mean more than just what society says it means, and whether you know it or not, I know you love Tanner – it’s just an undiscovered love,” she offers a smile. “So calm down, I’m not saying you love Tanner like you want to go run off and marry him and have his babies or anything,” she laughs, and then her face goes white. “Wait. There’s no chance you could be pregnant, right?”
I smack her with a pillow and we both laugh, “Okay, Dr. Phil, I’ll go out with you. Just stop trying to practice your psychology on me and give me an hour or so, I need to shower.”
Trista stands, “Thank God. I can’t stand the smell anymore.” I toss another pillow at her as she ducks out of the room before falling back onto my bed.
This should be interesting.
I convince Trista to make a pit stop at Sal’s before we hit the club she’s taking me to. I was supposed to work the day after everything happened, but I couldn’t find the will to leave my bed. Plus, I think I was a little hungover. I realize now that taking shots of tequila when I don’t drink was probably not the brightest idea I’ve ever had. When I called Sal, he didn’t even need me to explain. I’m sure he saw everything at The Box, and he hasn’t asked me to come back to work since. But, the reality is that I need the money, and it was immature and fucking stupid for me to call out from an alcohol-induced headache and an asshole-induced heartache, so like Trista said – pity party time is over.
I open the door to Sal’s and before I can even take a full step inside, big arms wrap me in a bear hug and I’m engulfed in a cloud of pizza dough and Sal’s cologne.
“Hi Sal,” I say with a muffled voice into his chest.
He pulls back and gives me a weak smile, “I’ve known Tanner a long time and I love the kid, but I’ll kick his ass if I have to. Just say the word.”
Trista laughs and I return Sal’s sad smile, “Not if I do it first.”
“Attagirl. What are you doing here? I told you not to bother coming in, I’d figure it out.”
“I’m taking her out,” Trista says matter-of-factly. “I told myself when I found out what happened to her that next morning that I’d give her three days. Time’s up, and now I’m taking responsibility to get her drunk and help her forget about what’s-his-face.”
“Oh God no,” I groan, holding my stomach. “Please, no booze. I think I still have a hangover.”
Sal chuckles, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you have those shots, but you were hell-bent on getting them and I figured you’d jump back there and make them yourself if I didn’t give them to you.”
“You know me pretty well, Sal. Anyway, I just stopped in to tell you to put me back on the schedule. I’m fine and actually a little embarrassed that I had to take the three days I have.”
Sal throws his hands up and shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry, I told you to take all the time you needed. Are you sure you’re ready to come back?”
No.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie. Sal tilts his head, questioning me, but doesn’t push it.
“Okay, I’ll put you on for tomorrow night. But for now, go out and have fun. And trust me when I say you are way too young and too damn beautiful to be sad over a boy who couldn’t see that. It’s his loss, sweetheart. And I mean that.”
I offer a soft smile, not really knowing what else to say. It sounds like the same cliché stuff I would say to a friend going through this situation, so I guess I should just accept it and keep my thoughts to myself. Because the truth is, I don’t want to be Tanner’s loss. I want to be his. Period.
I give Sal another hug and then Trista and I are out the door and walking to a club where Trista likes to go dancing. I’m not really into it and much prefer a bar with good live music, but she’s in charge tonight and I’m too tired to argue.
We round the corner just up the block from the club and my stomach instantly ties into knots when I realize we have to walk right by The Box. It’s Tuesday night, open mic night for local artists, which means Tanner is guaranteed to be there.
My steps quicken as we get closer and I keep my head down, peeking up every now and then to see if he’s outside. I try to convince myself it’s because I don’t want to see him, but the better part of me knows that it’s because I do want to.
How fucking stupid can you be, Kellee?
I shake my head, mad at myself for still wanting him, for letting myself ever want him in the first place.
As we get closer to The Box and I don’t see him, I start to think I might get lucky, but as we near the front door I see a small group huddled together. It looks like a few of them are smoking, the others are just standing there with them, but the cold air makes them look like they’re smoking, too.
Please don’t be him, please don’t be him.
Suddenly, Trista grabs my wrist and pulls me to a stop. “Shit, Tanner’s standing outside. Do you want to walk down the next block and take the long way?”
My heart starts pounding in my chest loud and unsteadily, like a race horse thundering through the last stretch. He’s out? I mean, part of me knew he would be, but the other part of me hoped that maybe he was in his bed, wrapped up in thoughts of me the way I have been for him.
Wishful thinking, I guess.
I start to nod, wanting nothing more than to turn and walk in the complete opposite direction of where he is, but then I shake my head instead. “No,” I say as assertively as I can. “I have to go to work there soon, so I’m going to see him eventually. Might as well be tonight.” The knots in my stomach multiply and weigh me down, causing my breath to be labored and louder than it should be.
“Are you sure?” Trista seems uneasy, which just makes me falter more inside as I try to keep up the façade that I’m just peachy fucking keen right now.
“Yeah, I’m sure. He probably won’t even notice me,” I wince a little as I say the words. Knowing that they’re true doesn’t help them feel any better rolling off my tongue.
Trista nods and loops her arm through mine as we start walking again. Tanner is standing with his back to the wall while his friends group around him. It’s dark, but even in the low lighting his face looks tired, worn. For a moment, I wonder if he really has been feeling the same way I have, but then I remember that if he’s feeling anything – it’s probably for Paisley. A sickening feeling comes over me again and I wish I was in my bed and not ten feet from the source of the pain.
I keep my head down, but my eyes betray me again and shoot up to find him, wanting to catch him looking at me. My legs are weak, my mouth dry as I watch him, just waiting for him to lift his head in my direction.
But he doesn’t.
I’m so close he could practically smell me, but his eyes are fixed on the person talking in the group, his arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He looks dazed, like he’s not really even there, but his focus is unchallenged.
I might as well be invisible.
Maybe I always have been with him.
After we pass them completely, Trista lets out a big breath, “Whew, he didn’t even see us. Thank God.”
“Yeah,” I say softly, just above a whisper. “Thank God.” But as we near the club doors, I swear I can feel a pair of honey eyes burning a hole into my back.