THERE IS AN inexplicable peace that comes with numbness. There’s no hurt, sorrow, or anguish in it. No reason to cry or scream. No more fear. No more fight.
No more him.
I’ve tried like hell to get here and stay here with a bottle of tequila. Feeling simply hurts too damn much. And though I used to relish the pain, this time, knowing that this particular brand of hurt will swallow me whole, I’ve pushed it into the dark corners of my mind and refused to acknowledge it.
Just keep drinking. Just keep breathing. It’s the only two things I can manage right now.
Tap, tap, tap.
I hear it but I am too far gone for its meaning to register in my clouded mind.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Hey, Gabs?” Morgan says softly, cracking open my bedroom door. She spies me lying on top of the bed, unmoving and dazed. “Holy shit, Gabs, are you ok?”
My lips part reflexively to fashion a response but the numbness takes over, leaving me speechless. I can’t answer that question without feeling. Because I am anything but ok.
Morgan makes her way towards me and sits on the edge of my bed. The bed he bought me. For the room he furnished. In the apartment he owns. Shit.
Breathe. Drink. Repeat.
I take a hefty gulp to drown the anxiety trying to claw its way to the surface and look at Morgan blankly. My throat doesn’t even suffer the burning affects.
“Gabs, um, I’m worried about you. You’ve been in here since yesterday. And it’s been so…quiet. Like eerily quiet. Miguel got a call late last night from Jared. He told him about what happened. Do you wanna talk about it?”
My eyes are on her but her face is unfocused. I force myself to look past her, not able to meet her worried eyes. If I do, I know I’ll crumble.
Breathe. Drink. Repeat.
I take another swig, my eyes still fixed on my best girlfriend but not really seeing anything at all.
“Ok…well, I can see you’re not going to work today. But at least call Carmen. She’s been blowing up the house phone all morning. At least let her know you’re not coming in today or something. And damn, open up a freakin’ window. How much of that shit did you drink? It smells like you took a bath in it.”
I smirk, looking away, the first crack of emotion I’ve shown since last night. Since I left him.
“Anyway, I got a client coming in at 11 so I gotta go. Try not to drown, ok. And call me when you’re feeling up to it.” Morgan stands and makes her way out of my room, stopping before she leaves the doorway. “It’ll be ok, Gabs. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be ok.”
After I am once again alone in my dejection, I grab my cell phone and turn it back on, only to be met with a chorus of alerts and chimes. I ignore the missed calls, texts, and voicemails, unable to muster the strength to return to the living just yet.
To Carmen, 10:42 A.M.
-Sorry about that. I’ve been sick. You should call Mr. Skotos if you need anything.
Just typing his name makes me want to curl up into a ball and cry until I’m too weak to move. I take a gulp of tequila.
From Carmen, 10:43 A.M.
-K. All good. Y would I call him?
-Cuz he’s the boss.
-Um, no, Gabs. He told us last week that U R now the new owner of Cashmere. He sent us all letters w/ the deets. Did you forget?
What the hell?
No…this can’t be true. There’s got to be some mistake. How the hell can I be the owner of a store when I know absolutely nothing about running one? And how did he manage to do this behind my back? And the most obvious question- Why? A consolation prize for leaving me for Aurora?
Wow. What a considerate fucker.
I sigh and tap out another text, pushing the questions into the farthest, darkest corners of my mind, packing it away with the rest of my confusion and pain.
To Carmen, 10:50 A.M.
-Oh yeah, sorry. Been out of it. Just call the girls to see if they can take on an extra shift this weekend. You’re in charge ‘til I get back Monday. Sorry again, Carmen. I owe you one.
-No prob, Gabs. Feel better. I’ll take care of everything.
With a huff, I toss my phone on my comforter just as it lights up with another message. Thinking it’s Carmen, I pick it up to look. I am so very wrong, and the dull ache in my chest overrides my alcohol-induced numbness. It hurts so bad that I gasp for my next breaths, the ache evolving into a staggering stab. My eyes fill with agonized tears while I read the blurry words on the small screen.
From Dorian, 10:52 A.M.
-I love you so much, little girl. More than my own existence. I would do anything for you, even lay down my own life. I need you to breathe.
I close the text, seeing that there are several more. Knowing I am just torturing myself, I open the first at the bottom of the list. Maybe there will be an explanation somewhere in it. A reason for this pain.
-Please come back to me, Gabriella. We need to talk. I can’t let you go.
-At least let me know you made it home safely. I am trying to give you space but I am worried about you.
-Little girl, I need to see you. I need to hold you. Let me make this better. I love you.
-Please at least send me a text to let me know you’re ok. I am going out of my mind.
-I did this for you, my love. I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without you. Even if you don’t want me anymore. All of this is for you.
-Dammit, Gabriella! Answer your phone! Your voicemail is full and I need to talk to you! Don’t shut me out!
-I’m fucking losing it! You don’t want to see what I am capable of. You have no idea what I would do to get through to you. Call me, dammit!
-Gabriella, please.
-I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never stop needing you. YOU. It’s YOU that I want. I love you, in life and in death.
Unable to control my trembling hand, I let the phone slide out of my grasp. My throat has been completely consumed by the large knot of emotion lodged in it. I can’t do this; I can’t shed one more tear for fear that I won’t be able to stop. Snatching the nearly empty bottle of tequila off my dresser, I down every drop. Then I race to the kitchen for more, grabbing the first thing I see and screwing off the cap. I don’t even taste it. I just pray the toxic elixir burns away that horrid knot so I can breathe again and take me back to oblivion.
When I stir awake, it’s dark outside. My alarm clock displays that it is after 9 P.M. I’ve slept the entire day away. Good. Better than living it.
A knock at the door startles me and I realize why I awoke in the first place. Before I can get up to answer it, it creaks open, streaming light into the pitch darkness of my bedroom. A tall, masculine shadow steps in and closes the door behind him.
“You know, you really should answer your phone,” Jared says, flicking the light on. I shield my tired eyes, my aching head throbbing at the intensity. “Holy shit, Gabs, you look how I feel.”
Jared walks over and sits at the foot of my bed, assessing my ragged appearance. I haven’t bathed since yesterday morning, let alone looked in a mirror. I can only imagine what kind of rat’s nest sits atop my head.
I shrug, unable to formulate a response. I’m not even sure I can talk after downing so much of the searing liquor and my mouth tastes awful. Then I remember vomiting before passing out this morning. I hold up a finger and stagger to my bathroom to freshen up. No need to kill Jared with my breath just because I feel like death.
“So I take it you found out,” Jared murmurs once I reemerge.
I nod, clearing my throat. “Yeah,” I reply hoarsely.
“Guess you were right.” He runs his hands through his messy hair and snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on right in front of my eyes. They were messing around this entire time. And here I thought we had unresolved feelings,” he says gesturing between the two of us.
I shrug, still at a loss for words. He’s right. Even after meeting…him, I never stopped caring for Jared. I think I’ll always be attracted to him. However, after last night and the way he dug into me at the restaurant, I don’t think he and I will ever be the same. He said I was a miserable obligation, a burden to him and the rest of our friends.
“About what I said last night,” he begins, reading my mind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“But you meant it,” a hoarse, rough voice says. I hardly recognize it as my own.
Jared looks at me with apologetic eyes, shame written on his face. Yes, he meant it. He thinks I’m a selfish bitch. And honestly, I’m fresh out of fucks to give.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t need to feel responsible for me,” I say standing up and walking to my bedroom door. “I really need to be alone right now.”
Jared takes the hint and makes his way to me. “I really am sorry, Gabs. For everything. You were right about…Aurora,” he says cringing. That’s when I really get a good look at him. His eyes are sunken in with dark circles around them. He’s unshaven and his clothes are wrinkled. Jared has been hurting. Maybe as much as I have.
“And I guess you were right about…You were right too,” I stammer, my eyes casting down. I look up to find his gaze on me, overflowing with unshed pain. It mirrors my own.
After I walk Jared to the door, I pop into Morgan’s room just to show her I’m still alive. Then I make a sandwich, realizing I haven’t eaten since the salad over 24 hours ago. Still, I can hardly choke it down, and grab a beer instead. After showering and throwing on some ratty old pajamas, I climb into bed and desperately try to close my eyes without seeing…him.
One day down, eternity to go.