Chapter 23
Lacey
Work distracts me from my hurt feelings. I waitress Thursday and Friday night and bring in pretty shitty tips. My sour mood doesn’t exactly inspire conversation from customers. I’m honestly coming off as a bitch with my blank expressions, short responses and sullen attitude with co-workers.
I have no desire to socialize with anyone. Not even those with my tips in their wallets.
I robotically take orders and drop off drinks with an unnatural smile. Anyone looking closely enough can see it. I know I need to turn my demeanor around by the time Saturday rolls around or I risk losing my paid singing gigs too.
By Saturday I pull myself together, but barely. On stage I let my heart bleed out through the tortured lyrics I chose to sing this weekend. My whole set is composed of break-up songs.
If the bar manager notices the theme he doesn’t comment. He’s probably too scared to talk to me at this point, worried I’ll either bite his head off or burst into tears. It’s best to avoid the emotionally unstable girl.
I miss Max.
That much is painfully obvious from my song choices tonight. And I know he was speaking from fear of getting too close when he ended things between us. Fear of hurting me or of me hurting him. But I wasn’t lying last week when I walked out the door for the last time.
I won’t beg him. I wasn’t the type.
So I spend the next several days studying in my apartment rather than at the campus library, not wanting to risk crossing paths with him. I avoid the old coffee shop, knowing how often he stops by. Can’t go to the beach without thinking of sandy quickies and late night conversations. Other than the nights I work at Blue’s I hardly leave the house.
Sleeping alone night after night allows my mind to wander. And the places it wanders are dark and best forgotten. I think of David more than I’m comfortable with. Of the fear and humiliation I felt the last time I saw him.
I can almost feel the sting in my cheek where he slapped me. The sting and ache between my legs throbs even though those wounds have long since healed. The racing of my heart as I left his apartment for the last time returns with each terrifying memory, feeling as scared and lost as I had that night.
It’s been months but the fear hasn’t alleviated. In fact, it’s become more obvious in my silent lonesomeness.
I shower in desperation to scrub the memories of him from my skin but they linger in the quiet darkness of my bedroom as I try to fall asleep alone each night.
Max proved to be an effective distraction from the residual effects of David. Now I have no choice but to deal with what happened. And I had to deal with it alone. No one else knew about what happened to me and I couldn’t bring myself to tell my parents.
Who else did I even have? Reina didn’t even try to talk to me anymore. Her social media was filled with photos of her at parties with new friends. Didn’t look like she missed me much and when I tried to text her a couple times since breaking up with Max she had barely responded.
I asked her if we could meet up for coffee one day after class to talk and she gave me a vague excuse. Translation: she moved on the greener friendship pastures and I should too.
I couldn’t exactly say I was hurt by her response. Or surprised. We weren’t all that close to begin with and when I started spending more time with Max the distance was undeniable. The fact that she hadn’t tried to meet my new love interest or stop by my place was also undeniable.
But regardless of how shallow the friendship had been the fact remained that I was alone. I didn’t even have the desire to meet new people. I could stop by the coffee shop and talk to Amy but that didn’t solve my problems.
I wasn’t close to anyone. Not close enough to talk about my problems or unload about David.
About Max.
Mid-week I schedule a counseling appointment through the campus psychology department.
Mid-month I feel more broken and unstable than the night David raped me. Reliving what happened in detail flays me open. Nightmares visit every night.
But slowly my counselor Belinda helps me talk through what happened to me and start putting the pieces back together one jagged shard at a time.
I’m far from being whole again but at least I have an outlet to break down. To cry. To get guidance on where to go from here.
With her help I feel a little less lost.