I've realized something during my last several minutes of bawling my eyes out, something I couldn't seem to think about when these freaking emotions were still gone. Why am I focusing on when I started feeling empty? Shouldn't I be thinking about why? I guess that's the thing about emotions. Why is almost never factual. It's based on opinions, feelings, and desires. Not reason. All I could bring my brain to focus on was when. Time. There is nothing more factual than time.
Actually, I'm having trouble focusing on anything right now. I've already eaten my way through three packages of fatcakes, a tub of ice cream, seven mini Hershey bars, and a piece of garlic toast. I'm just unbelievably hungry. And yeah, I'm still crying so the tears are dripping onto my food and making wet things more wet and dry things wet. It's kind of a mess. But that's the only thing I can't bring myself to care about right now. Everything else feels like hell crashed down around me while I had my head in the clouds. As soon as Sam left, I'd collapsed onto the couch, turned on the news, and cried even harder at all of the death and destruction that hadn't been bothering me for so long. This whole world is just so sad! Including the weather. How depressing!
I think focusing is something for empty people. When I didn't involve emotion in my everyday thought, I could watch one channel all day. Imagine that, one channel. Who can do that when clicking that remote control is just so appealing? Between the television, my foot tapping, and my constant eating, I've never been better at multitasking. It's a skill, really.
I'd just finished the Friends episode where Chandler and Monica get married, when Spencer walks in. I have never sobbed harder in my life. It was just so beautiful. Chandler with his goofy weirdness, and Monica with her… extreme need to clean. Beautiful. Back to Spencer. He walks in to find me bawling into a popcorn ball on the couch while another rerun starts on television.
"You're crying!" He exclaims and, when I look over at him, he's never had a wider grin on his face.
"You're smiling!" I accuse in the same voice.
He clears his throat and frowns. "Yeah. Sorry. Totally inappropriate." He says as he breaks out in a smile again. "Sorry."
I jab at my eyes to try and get rid of the tears so evident there. "Stop smiling. You're making me feel like an idiot."
He hugs me then, squashing my moist popcorn ball into my chest. "You feel!"
"Duh. I'm human." I say in a monotone.
"Right, right." He laughs. "I'm so happy. We should go out for tofu vegetarian pizza."
"Why are you so happy?" It was originally just a basic question that popped forth based on his response, but now that it was out, it felt so much deeper. I was still crying steadily as we stared at each other. He finally had a serious expression on his face.
"Well, you know. You've been kind of off lately. I'm just happy you're back to yourself." He shrugs, gazing around the destroyed living room. I was a bit enthusiastic in my desperate search for food.
"How long was I off?"
He sits down next to me with a sigh, taking a bite out of my popcorn ball. "About three months."
I ponder that for a moment. Imagine three months of one's life gone in a blink of an eye. Do I even have any memories from that time? The whole world seemed like a blur. For three months, I checked out. No emotions experienced, so nothing to tie average days to me. If I weren't already draining the fluids in my body via tear ducts, I would've started then. Three months lost.
"Why?" It was the only word I could choke up my throat.
He eyeballs the room. "I don't think I'm really the one to discuss it with. I only know part of the story, anyway."
"Tell me the part you know." I command.
He doesn't listen and just shakes his head. "It's better if you hear the whole thing at once. And from Sam."
"Sam?" I squeak.
He nods. "Yeah. She's the only one who knows everything that happened. But hey, let's forget that tonight and watch hour after hour of old movies. We'll laugh, we'll cry, it'll be fun."
I'd never wanted to see someone and avoid them at the same time so much. Why was Sam so tied into all of this? She seemed to be just as wound into my whole three-month issue as I am. Everything is so complicated when feelings are involved. Life is ridiculous.
"Sure, Spence. I'd like that."
Getting up for school the next morning was extraordinarily easy. For so long, I've struggled to rise from my bed and greet the day, but not this morning. I was up with my alarm at 6 and excited. I woke up with a rush not normally associated with the average school day. Part of me wanted to cry, and part of me wanted to dance. So I cried and danced while I got ready for school. To be completely honest, I think it did wonders for my psyche.
My walk to school is a little messier than it was yesterday. Seattle decided to warm up ten degrees and than let the precipitation hit. So, slushy snow soaks into my tennis shoes down below and ruins my hairstyle up above. The rain slaps into my face like the sky is punishing me for taking so long to get feeling back. Or was it tears that rain is? Can tears really be punishment? My mind flashes back to Sam and the crying and the heartache and I know it can be.
School is dull. Plain and simple. The building is a dull brick red with not even a rosebush to liven it up. Students run up the stairs and inside, totally ignoring the fact water is attacking them from every angle. It's a Washingtonian thing, I think. Complete and utter disregard for rain. Like it never happens here. Who owns an umbrella? It rains so much here, I'd have to buy a new one so often. Anyway, back to the school. The steps are slippery and I almost wish I could be the person who slips and their stuff goes flying. It would be painful, right? But I don't stop to contemplate slipping on the stairs and head up into my math class.
Mrs. Bailey is always so cheerful. She makes me want to start crying all over again. How could one be so happy in a world like this? Yeah, I watch the news. Maybe she needs to once in a while to maintain realistic expectations. No, she should keep her happiness. Why am I analyzing this? Its not like I have any say in the matter. It's not even a matter.
"Good morning."
"Morning." I respond, watching her eyes go wide as I hand over my homework. I probably haven't responded to her once this year.
ADHD boy's attention is on me like white on rice as soon as I take my seat.
"You look different." He says.
I nod. "I had a sex change last night."
"What?" He exclaims in his shock.
"I'm kidding." I soothe, taking out my math book.
"Right." He turns away from me to fidget with his backpack.
He doesn't ask me out today. In fact, he doesn't speak to for the rest of class. I'm okay with that, though. For the first time in a long time, I actually pay attention. I follow the examples in the book, I listen to my teacher's lecture, I even take notes. It feels weird, but I do them because I should. Because staring out the window day after day wishing I were still in bed gets me nowhere. What could I possibly have gotten out of staring out the window? Nothing. I hadn't gotten anything out of the last few months.
ADHD boy ignores me when the bell rings and I pack up to leave.
Getting emotions back and figuring them out are two very different things. Yeah, I feel. Blah, blah, blah. But it doesn't help me figure out what I want the most. I mean, this project is kind of asking a lot, isn't it? How am I supposed to figure out what the most important thing in my life is? What I want most desperately? As far as I know, I don't want anything. Not desperately. Besides Cheetos. The hot kind. But who doesn't want that?
I actually sit with three girls in this class. The one I thought was a boy isn't. And no, she didn't get a sex change last night either. She just has really short hair. I couldn't repeat their names, but I see their faces now. None of them are very attractive. Not that that's a problem, of course its not. Just an observation. I can still have those, right? Even with the feelings and stuff?
Sam isn't in her seat when I finally reach English. She doesn't show up for the rest of class. The crack in my heart widens a little and I had my tears in my sleeves. Mrs. Ferguson introduces the book we are to read now, The Epic of Gilgamesh. Yeesh.
In Spanish, Enrique is out with the flu. Our substitute is about a thousand years old and puts on the original Count of Monte Cristo. Freddie sits really close to me and repeatedly stretches his hand towards mine then yanks it back quickly with a change of decision.
We sit together at lunch. He rambles about the movie, even though I'm sure he didn't see any of it he was so focused on my hand. I eat greasy fries and down chocolate milk while he delicately works his way through the perfectly balanced lunch his mom packed him.
Mrs. Johnson has us play Jeopardy to help us remember the material for the test in fifth period. I try to actively participate but I don't remember anything about cell structure besides the fact it has one. She doesn't seem to mind that I don't know any of the answers and just comments on how much she likes my enthusiasm.
I sleep through World History. Some things never change, no matter the circumstances.
As I sludge home, I can't help but wonder if I took more in today than in the proceeding ones. I mean, yeah, my head was in the game this time. But I noticed so much more when I wasn't complicating everything with feelings. I'm going to go with today being more meaningful. Perhaps previous days being more productive? I guess it doesn't matter. Why am I analyzing every little thing today? Gees.
Sam's on my couch again when I get home. She's lying upside down, chugging a Peppy Cola. We stare at each while I set my backpack down and move closer to her.
"You weren't in English." Statements are always nice to have on hand when just the sight of her makes me want to burst into tears all over again. Her curls are flopped around, her eyes wide. She's wearing the t-shirt my dad sent me from Europe and a pair of my sweatpants.
She sets the now empty can down on the coffee table and turns slightly to look at me more upright. "I skipped." She says with a shrug.
"You know, one day the school is going to come after you for that." I point out, rocking onto the sides of my feet because I don't know what else to do with myself.
"No they won't." She counters.
I give. "You're right. Our attendance policy is like non-existent. You probably won't get into any trouble."
My heart is fighting its way out of chest so it can lay broken and bleeding in front of Sam. But I won't cry. I won't let her know how much she hurt me. Its not like she knew I was braking down on the other side of the door while she chatted with Freddie. No need to alert her now.
Come to think of it, these last three months must have been more obvious and terrible than previously suspected. Sam casually talking with Freddie, that isn't something that happens all the time. No insults, no nothing. Just a talk. This is all a lot scarier than I imagined. As much as she put me through yesterday, how much did I put her through for the last several weeks?
"You look different." She's climbing to her feet, moving closer. "You look like you want to cry." Her hand is reaching for my cheek, but I shrug it away.
"I'm fine." I'm lying and she knows it. "So, uh, we started a new book in English."
She rolls her eyes. "Can we stop pretending like school is really what we want to talk about?" Her fingers trace the outside of my hands and begin walking up my wrists.
My mouth bobs open for a response, but then I realize I don't have one. "Okay." I finally squeak after a minute.
"What's really on your mind?" She questions. Her hands are definitely on me now, her fingers curled around my arms so I wouldn't even think of escaping.
"Nothing. My mind is blank. Totally blank."
"Don't lie to me, Carly."
"Why? You lied to me!" My words are yelled in the highest pitch I've ever been able to reach and she looks stunned, but not as much as me. "You… you," I say in a softer voice. "You put me through so much yesterday."
She seems even more surprised by this. "What?"
"With your whole 'I'm in love with you' thing. You really… really," I break off because I don't know what I'm trying to say or how to finish my sentence.
"Really what?" She encourages.
I lick my lips before meeting her gaze. "Hurt me."
She sighs, dropping her hands to her sides. "That wasn't the goal. You have to know I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"Then what were you trying to do?" She's the one moving away now, heading into the kitchen. But now I'm interested, so I chase after her.
"Jog your memory." She states simply and begins to fix herself a bowl of Captain Crunch with Root Beer.
I frown at her. "Jog my memory?"
She nods. "Yeah."
"And what am I supposed to be remembering?" I say, trying to get her to continue.
"What happened three months ago," She digs into her cereal like we aren't having this conversation.
"What happened three months ago?" I ask.
"I wouldn't have asked for this talk if I had known you didn't remember." She won't look at me now, keeping her eyes staring at her bowl.
"Damn it, Sam! Just tell me!" I exclaim, making even me jump at my own sudden outburst.
She rubs her lips together, pausing in her cereal consumption. "Three months ago, that's when you changed."
"I know, Spencer told me that much." I roll my eyes.
"Yeah, I assumed he would."
"That's it? I'm supposed to remember changing?" I pull the bowl of cereal out of her hands and all but throw it in the sink.
"No, you're supposed to remember what set it off."
"And what was that?"
She sighs heavily. "Carly…"
"Sam, just tell me."
She licks her lips, digging her nails into the kitchen counter. After a minute or two, she looks at me again. "Three months ago… That was when you told me you were in love with me. And I… I couldn't return your feelings."