Thom has kept quiet the whole way home. He's an angel, I'm sure he's burning with questions but he's holding back. He walk slowly, his arm around my shoulders, giving me the comfort of what I imagine an older brother would give a younger sister. We eventually reach the white picket fence around my house and I turn to Thom. He squeezes my shoulders and tells me to 'Take it easy, we're here for you.' I nod, hug my arms to myself and slip inside the back door. Trudging up the stairs I recall his touch, his taste, his smell and all the feelings rush in anew. I struggle to hold it together until I get to my room. When I do I just grab a pillow and sob into it. The self-loathing comes in, the questions. How could you let yourself go like that? Why am I not good enough? Why do I love him? I know why, God I know why. I'm just so disappointed in myself that I still love him, still, after all the shit I've gone through with him. He's made fun of me, scorned me, looked at me like the dirt on his shoes and I still love him.
When I'm all cried out I stand and look in the gilded mirror on my wall across from my bed. My makeup I smeared, my hair is disheveled and I have never felt so ugly. This of course brings another wave of tears and I brace myself against the vanity. I hurridly, angrily wipe off my makeup, my hair goes from rebellious waves to a messy, half hearted bun on top of my head. I slip on my comfiest pajamas and slide in bed, hugging my pillow to me and wishing away the world.
I wake up the next morning, dizzy and disoriented. Then it all comes rushing back, a tidal wave of feelings that I am just not awake enough to deal with. I slip on a robe and slippers and go downstairs, asking Marie our housekeeper to make the most soothing tea and comforting food we've got. This day is going to be quite the challenge. Thank goodness my mother is having a good spell today because I need my music. I sit at the piano and rifle through the papers, finding my most melancholy piece. It sounds to me like someone crying out, someone at the end of their rope. Me, because I am just so done with this damn unrequited love, I am so done. I play it with as much feeling as I can, as if bottling them up in this piece could keep me from it forever. I spend the rest of the day in the library, my favorite place to be. Overcome with nostalgia, I read all of my favorite books one after the other, only stopping when Marie brings food in for me.
The tray has plenty of chocolate. I ask her how she knows, and she says,
"I know heartbreak when I see it. Now I'm not going to ask questions, because I probably don't want to know, but tell me what you need and I'll get it for you."
My heart swells for Marie, this woman from the Seam, who owes me nothing. She works for my family, not me. She doesn't have to go out of her way at all for me, in fact, she should hate me more than anyone; being this close to the Mayor's wealth every day. My chin quivers and she squeezes my shoulder, telling me that she's going to whip me up a 'family remedy'.
I wait and she comes in a few minutes later with a cup of the sweetest tea I've ever tasted. She kisses my forehead and tells me that she's off for the night, leaving me with my books and my thoughts.
Monday comes too quickly and I'm dreading it. My walk to school is spent bracing myself for catching sight of Gale and schooling myself into what is hopefully an indifferent expression. I get to my locker and see Bristol out of the corner of my eye, walking purposefully towards me.
She hugs me and asks, "Are you okay, sweetie? What happened?"
We walk to our first period class together and I regale the whole story, wincing all the while. She puts a comforting hand on my shoulder and I take it as "Yeah, he doesn't like you that way", and it stings, but I find that I feel a bit stronger. I feel like her acceptance of this fact means that maybe I can accept it too, that I can finally get some closure.