A/N: Hi, I apologize sooo much for the wait. I had finals and am currently in a relentless (and so far unsuccessful) job hunt. I will hopefully be updating more regularly now. On that note, are people still interested in this POV? It's not really even Brittana anymore. Just... sort of. Thoughts?
Thanks as always to my betas, wewillwalk and whedonist. And thanks to all still reading.
Also, check out my other stories if you haven't already and if you want to. I post them here and also on my tumblr thatswherehopelies . tumblr . com
People have always been my artistic downfall. I can never get them quite right.
I can float over a landscape, capturing skylines, or meadows, or sunsets. I can do portraits of inanimate objects, playing with dark shadows or abstract spacing. I can look at photographs, my pencil tracing the lines onto a brand new page, adding my own signature twist to the moment.
People are different though.
I have tried so many times to transfer faces and arms, spines and toes, to a blank page, my pencil following my eyes as they rake over a person and try to replicate their beauty.
I've been told that my portraits are good, accurate representations of the people I am trying to carve into the canvas. No matter how many times I'm told this, though, I just can't help but disagree.
There's something missing.
I think an artist needs to understand someone to be able to draw them. They have to see past the curve of their nose and the definition in their shoulders. It's so much more than that.
After Christmas, I felt different. It wasn't anything big, not anything externally noticeable. It was just this tiny inexplicable shift inside me.
I sat down in my corner stool, watching you work and flit around behind the bar, and I noticed it. The shift. It was an understanding.
Understanding people comes not from the ability of others to open up to you. It comes from your ability to open up to others.
Suddenly, I could see it. It was a faint glow, a warmth of comprehension spreading to my fingers. They ached with the need to feel charcoal between them.
I was torn, Tía, between the urge to rifle through my backpack and find my supplies, and the want to keep watching you.
I reached for my bag, fumbling with the zipper. I kept my eyes focused on your back as you helped someone on the opposite side of the bar. My hands felt around blindly inside until my fingers were curling around my box of charcoals and my sketchpad.
Before I knew it I had unconsciously flipped to a clean page and already my hands were acting of their own accord. They mapped out the gentle slope of your jawline, the jutting of your hips.
I understood.
I caught the crinkle of happiness at the corner of your eyes, the stress in your wrists as you leaned on the bar to hear someone better. Your hands are so interesting. Your fingers are delicate and strong, but your knuckles are wrinkled from worrying them too much. I know it is worry about work or your past. Maybe it's worry about me.
(I like to think I'm not that stressful on you, but it's also kind of a relief to know that you care enough about me to worry.)
I felt myself inhaling sharply, then exhaling quietly. With every breath in, I found you, and with every breath out, I opened up more to this new way of seeing you.
I lingered on the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the dark strands twisting in the air as your graceful hands moved methodically over glasses and the soda gun. Your shoulder bones stuck out of the straps of your black tank top.
You leaned forward, shifting your weight to your tip toes as you reached up high to grab a bottle of grenadine from the top shelf. Your shirt rode up and I caught the bottom of the small tattoo on your lower back. I asked you about it once. You blushed and laughed, embarrassed, as you explained that you had gotten the tiny swallows flying skyward when you were seventeen and had yearned to get away from small town Ohio and the sense of claustrophobia you had felt there.
My fingers danced across the page for so long. One hour, two hours, I'm not even sure.
I was my very own Allegory of the Cave. Where once I had been in the dark, I had now stepped into the light, my eyes gradually adjusting to the brightness that was understanding you.
The longer I drew, the more I understood.
A drawing is simply lines and shading if you don't feel something when putting it to paper. It becomes art when you open yourself up to the emotions you feel when you're drawing it.
It was late when I finished. All of the customers had left the bar and you were stacking chairs and cleaning tables. I looked at what I had drawn and for the first time in so long, I was proud of something I had created. It didn't feel superficial or rushed, like it would have if I had drawn it in a moment when I was feeling the frantic need to find myself.
I carefully slid my sketchbook into my backpack and we went home. You had gone to bed, but in the quiet of the kitchen I took the book back out and flipped open to what I had drawn.
There was a shift in the air and I felt movement behind me.
"Hey," Brittany said quietly. I exhaled in surprise because I hadn't known she was there.
"Hi."
She moved closer and for once I didn't feel like I needed to hide my art. It was finished and it was exactly how I wanted it to be.
Brittany's lips twisted in thought and she brought her hand to the drawing, letting it hover right over the paper. I watched as her fingers glided through the air, running over the lines that made up the curve of your hip and lingering over the wisps of hair falling in your face as you leaned against the countertop.
"You drew this?" Her voice was soft and gentle, full of wonder and awe. It made heat rush to my ears. She made it sound like I was Da Vinci or Michelangelo or something.
"Yeah," I said sheepishly.
"This is… Cass. This is amazing." She looked at me then, her eyes excited and deep like thick droplets of blue paint. "Did you show Santana?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "No." I think I wanted that drawing just for me. It was okay that Brittany had seen it, but I didn't want to show you. Not because I was self-conscious of it – because I wasn't – but it felt personal. It was a picture of you, but it was also part of me. I don't know if that makes sense, but that's what it felt like. "Do you think you could… not tell Santana about it?"
Brittany smiled softly at me and nodded before running a hand over the back of my head. She does that a lot. Sometimes I feel like Brittany is my aunt more than you are, Tía. The way she looks at me, proud and gentle, feels so… maternal or something. I don't know.
I mean, you do that too sometimes. It's different, though. It feels like Brittany is always looking after me, but with you… it feels like you've got my back. It's just… different. Maybe it's because you're more than just my aunt.
We bicker and annoy each other. Sometimes I embarrass you and sometimes you get so fiercely protective of me that it makes me feel younger than I'd like to admit.
At this point in time, maybe I was afraid to tell you things about my past. I was scared that you would judge me, nervous that you would be just like the rest of our shitty family. Now, though, I know I can tell you anything. You'll always be there for me with a quick joke to make my insecurities vanish or a tight hug that will have me melting into happiness.
You're my best friend, Tía.
One day, maybe I'll give you my drawing of you, but for now, I think I'll keep it to myself. I'll keep it as a reminder that when you change and open yourself up that, sometimes, with feelings… everything can be just a little bit better.
Have you ever looked in the mirror and felt nothing?
You didn't feel happy or sad or… anything? Like a painting that evokes no emotion. Average. Mediocre. Indifferent.
It was New Year's Eve and I had spent the last hour getting ready for my… ugh. My date. My hair was straightened, makeup dark around the eyes. This is how I'd dress to impress back in Ohio. Everything looked so familiar. My face, my outfit, everything.
I felt different, though. There was no feeling of excitement, no burst of self-confidence. I was hot-shit. Yet, I felt nothing.
"You look nice."
I exhaled and shrugged my shoulders. I didn't feel nice. I felt nothing.
"Where are you going?" You came up behind me, your face appearing above mine in the mirror.
"A party."
You quirked your eyebrow at my indifferent tone. "A party? With who?" I think you were surprised, Tía. I never hung out with anyone as far as you knew.
"Some people from school. It's at this girl Melanie's house."
"Hmmm."
I nodded and wondered what you saw in my reflection in the mirror. Could you see the maturity in my carefully made-up appearance? Or did you see the youth in my eyes? The fear of the old Cass shining through or the determination of the new Cass to keep it at bay?
You placed your hands on my shoulders and squeezed. "Well, be safe."
"Okay." My phone vibrated from where it sat on the vanity, lighting up with a text.
Crater:Here! :)
"Who's Crater?" Your hands fell away from my shoulders as I turned around and grabbed my jacket from where it was hanging over the back of my chair.
"Nobody really. I'm going with him to the party."
"Is it a date?"
"No!" You gave me an amused look and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "I mean, not really."
You smirked and I felt the heat spread up the back of my neck to my ears. "Not really? How can something not really be a date?"
"Well, he thinks it's a date and I…" I shrugged. "I don't know?"
Your smirk turned into a full blown smile. "Right."
"It's not, Tía, God."
"Whatever you say, Cass."
"Stop it! I have to go."
I tried to leave, but you grabbed my arm. "Whoa, not so fast."
"What?" I whined, desperate to get out of there.
"When will you be home? Are you staying somewhere? Do you have your phone?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm coming back, but I don't know when. Sometime after midnight. And yes, I have my phone."
"Okay. I have to work really late tonight, so I'll be at the bar if you need me. Text me if you go anywhere else besides your friend's, okay?"
"Yes, Tía, God." I rolled my eyes again. "Can I go now?"
"Yes." You nodded and let go of my arm. "Please be safe."
"I will. Stop worrying." Then I was gone, out the door and down the hallway. When I stepped outside, I saw John leaning against the building with his hands in his pockets.
"Hey," I said.
He stood up straight and smiled. "Hey. You look… different."
I froze. "I do?"
He nodded. "Well yeah. You still look really pretty, but I don't know… you don't really look like you."
I looked like the old me. He was right. I just didn't know how the new me looked.
"Oh." I shifted awkwardly. "Well you look nice." He had on dark jeans and a button up with a black tie.
He shrugged indifferently. "How was your Christmas?"
"It was really good. How was yours?"
"It was alright. I got a new iPod." He ran a hand through his blonde hair. It looked like he had tried to style it but it had flopped back down to its usual unruliness. "Well," he said. "You ready?"
I nodded and he held out his hand. I hesitantly took it, my insides heating up despite the cold when he smiled his crinkly smile. Our fingers interlaced together and I tried not to focus on the warmth of my palm in his, hoping that it wouldn't be sweaty and embarrassing.
We walked a few blocks, making small talk about our holiday and how we didn't want to go back to school. When we finally got to Mel's I felt my jaw drop.
"Yeah," John said with a laugh as we looked into the fancy lobby of her building. The doorman was holding open the door for us. "She owns the whole top floor. Her dad does music videos or something."
I had never seen a place so nice. A giant crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and the floors were polished to a bright sheen. I could see my reflection in the marble tiles, black hair curtaining my cheeks.
"Come on." John tugged my hand to the elevator where he pressed the up button. When the doors slid open, we stepped inside and John pressed the button for pent house. "Normally it won't let you do that," he said as we went up. "You have to have a key to do it usually because the elevator goes right into her place, but she must have manually turned that off or something for the party."
The doors opened and we stepped into a room full of kids laughing and dancing to a hard beat, bass shaking the room. The sound system was pretty loud. "Holy shit," I half-yelled.
"I know, it's insane!" John smiled at me and led me in and out of people until we got to the kitchen area. The music was a little quieter in there.
"Okay, I'm thinking body shots!" I saw Mel standing on a counter and yelling down at the people below her. "What do you think, Tay?"
Someone must have answered because there was a loud cheer and Mel held up a bottle of Jose Cuervo.
"Guess we made it just in time for body shots," John laughed. We walked to the counter just as Mel jumped down. She saw us and grinned.
"Crater! You made it! About fucking time man!" She smiled at me. "What up, Cass?"
"Cool place," I told her. She just shrugged. A tall girl with long blonde hair came up beside Mel and draped her arm over her shoulder.
"Babe, Nick wants to do shots." She glanced over at us. "Crater, good to see you again." She pointed at me. "But I haven't met you before. Mel, who's this cutie?"
My gaze shifted to John. He rolled his eyes.
"This is Cass," Mel said to the girl. "Cass, this is my girlfriend Taylor."
The girl eyed mine and John's clasped hands. "Nice snag, Crater-nator. She looks totally fuckable."
John turned bright red and I flickered my gaze between Taylor and Mel. Mel rolled her eyes, but smiled. "You'll have to excuse her. She's a flirt on good days, never mind when she's drunk."
Taylor fingered a strand of long blonde hair. "I'm not flirting babe, I'm just saying she looks delicious. And I'm not drunk."
"Yeah, okay." Mel held up the bottle of tequila. "We were just about to do body shots. You guys want in?"
John looked at me and I shrugged. "Yeah, count us in," John said.
I did three body shots. One was off of Taylor which was kind of awkward because she kept winking seductively at me. She was pretty funny, though. I did another off of some random guy I'd never met before. Then I did one off of John. He kept giggling and he squirmed when I ran my tongue over his stomach. I like to consider that a successful body shot for everyone involved.
John had to go to the bathroom after that so I wandered through Mel's place. There were a lot of pictures of her and her dad on the walls. Don't get me wrong, I know that things aren't always what they seem and that appearances leave a lot up to assumption, but it looked like they had a pretty good relationship to me. Better than what I had with my dad, at least.
I felt this pang in my chest as I looked at this one picture of Mel and her dad smiling in front of a Christmas tree.
I love you, Tía, and I love the relationship we have together. But God, it's just not the same, you know? Why can't our family just be fucking normal?
Like, if your mom dies from cancer, why the fuck does your dad have to be shitty too? Not for the first time, I thought about how unfair everything about my life was.
"Hey, there you are." I spun around to see John walking toward me. "It's almost midnight. You ready?"
I looked at the picture one more time and then turned back to him. "Yeah, totally."
We walked back into the kitchen where Mel handed us each a shot. I quickly downed mine, grimacing as it hit my throat.
"Mel, two minutes!" Taylor popped her head into the kitchen. "Come watch!"
Someone turned the music off and then the sound of Ryan Seacrest talking filled the stereo. I led John into the other room where Times Square was projected on Mel's giant flat screen TV. Fuck, these people had a lot of money.
"One minute!" Someone yelled out and then the countdown started. Everyone was scrambling around, trying to find their significant other or even a friend. I started to panic as I realized John was next to me. Would he expect me to kiss him?
Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with that. It was just one kiss, right? But this was John and I was me and I wasn't in Ohio anymore. I was working on a new me. I wasn't here for boys.
"Ten, nine, eight…"
I felt my breathing pick up as I mentally battled with myself.
"Seven, six, five…"
It was one kiss. I wasn't here for boys. Old me. New me.
"Four, three, two…"
Fucking Jesus Christ. I looked over at John. He was wearing a goofy smile and chanting alongside everyone else.
"One! Happy New Year!"
Someone screamed and must have blown one of those horns and confetti was going everywhere. John looked at me, lips curled in a half smile, and started to lean in.
It was just one kiss.
I wasn't here for boys.
"I have to pee!"
It was the first thing that came to mind and John looked at me confused, but I ignored him and shot out of the room. I skirted past Mel and Taylor who were making out against a wall and darted into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter and took a deep breath.
The room felt stifling even though it must've been below freezing outside. I took in a deep breath, my fingers clenching the granite countertop in front of me. My eyes fell on a bottle of vodka and I grabbed it with shaky hands. I took a huge gulp and then set it back down. No, I wouldn't do that. I wasn't that person anymore. I could handle it.
Someone stumbled up behind me and I turned to see Mel laughing hysterically as she called something over her shoulder before turning to look at me.
"Cass! Heyyyy." She grabbed the bottle of vodka in front of me. "Let's do a shot!" She opened the bottle and took a swig before handing it to me.
"Ummm."
"Come on, I did it! We have to be evenskis!"
I sighed and took another sip. What the hell. She cheered and I started to feel light headed.
"Hey," she said. "Where's Darth Crater?" My eyebrows rose at the nickname.
"Out there still, I think."
She nodded. "So was he good?"
I looked at her, confused. "Good at what?"
She laughed, all high-pitched and exaggerated. "At kissing."
"We didn't kiss," I told her.
"What!" Mel threw her hands in the air. "Well why the fuck not! You came here together, right?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"And you like him, right?"
I shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Hold the fucking phone for one second. You like him. You came here together. But you didn't kiss." I stared at her. "Are you leading him on?"
"No." Yes.
"Yes you are, Cass."
"No, I'm not." Yes I was.
She pursed her lips. Gone was the giggly Mel from before, replaced by a coherent and serious Mel. "Okay, look. I'm not one to tell anyone how to treat anybody. Especially Crater. That would be hypocritical of me, and it's not my place."
I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off. "It is my place, however, as his friend, to tell you to back the fuck off if you're going to treat him like shit."
"I'm not – "
"Yes. You are." She put her hands on her hips. "I chose a girl over him and yeah, we're friends now, but I hurt him. It took us a long time to get our friendship back. He's a great guy, Cass."
"I know," I said. I hadn't been expecting a lecture. Everything was starting to feel fuzzy around the edges.
"We're friends, right?" I nodded. "Awesome, because I like you. But if you hurt him…" She trailed off and stared at me with her sharp green eyes.
"I'm trying not to." I was trying not to. That's why I was in the kitchen and not out there.
Mel clenched her jaw. "I know that you slept with Greg Morrison."
"I – what?"
"You fucked Greg Morrison. "
"How did you know that?" My voice was coming out too slow. My brain wasn't going fast enough.
Mel didn't answer me. She was staring over my shoulder with a pained expression on her face. I followed her gaze and felt my stomach plummet.
John stared at me and I stared back.
"Is it true?"
"John – "
He shook his head frantically. "She's drunk, Cass right? She doesn't know what the she's talking about."
"John, I…"
He looked at me pleadingly, blue eyes boring into mine with a strange intensity I didn't associate with him. "Tell me, Cass. Is it true?"
It felt like everything inside of me was squeezing, my inner organs suffocating like a constrictor was wrapping around them and trapping them in a vice-like grip.
I nodded.
John closed his eyes briefly. Then he spun on his heel and walked out of the room. I chased after him, but I couldn't find him among all of the people dancing and making out in celebration of the New Year.
I twisted around violently, searching everywhere. Everything was a blur. It was too hot in there.
I called the elevator, jiggling impatiently until the doors opened and I stepped inside. When I stepped outside into the cold New York air, I expected to feel better, but I didn't. Everything was still too hot.
I didn't know what to do. I had to do something.
"I have to work really late tonight, so I'll be at the bar if you need me."
Yes. I could go to the bar. You would be there. I could ask you for help. I could be with people who didn't expect anything of me. I could…
Fuck, I was drunk.
I started walking in the direction I thought the bar was. I had walked three blocks before I realized I was going the wrong way. The streets were too full of people. It was too hot.
I hailed a cab, stumbling a bit as I wormed my way into the backseat. I told the driver where to go and leaned my head against the window.
When I paid and got out of the cab, I had never been so relieved to see the bar. I had never been so relieved to see you.
I don't think you felt the same.
You told me to go sit by Brittany. I would do that. Brittany didn't expect anything of me either.
I felt someone grab my arm. It was Quinn.
"Cass, what are you doing here?"
"Hi, Quinn!" I smiled at her. Quinn wouldn't expect things of me. Quinn was my friend.
She tilted her head to the side. "Are you drunk?"
"Where's Britt? Tía told me to sit by Britt."
"Who? Oh. Santana. Right." Quinn sounded weird, like her voice was travelling through thick syrup before reaching my ears. She led me closer to the bar and I saw Britt talking to Puck. They looked at me when Quinn planted me in front of where they were sitting.
"Oh, God. Cass, are you drunk?" Brittany grabbed my face in her hands immediately.
I shook my head and stepped back. "No, Britt, I'm fine. Tía told me to come see you."
"She's drunk, B." I think Quinn said that.
"I'm fine!"
Someone squeezed in next to me. It was a guy with shaggy brown hair. "Hey," he said.
"Hi," I said back. He smirked at me before looking over at Britt.
"Can I buy you a drink, Santana's Blonde Friend?"
Brittany smiled politely. "No thanks."
The guy leaned against the bar. I leaned against Britt, my arm on top of the sticky countertop. Everything felt a little wobbly.
"You sure? Santana's hot and all, but I think you're looking for something else."
I looked at the guy. Did he suggest what I thought he suggested?
"Actually, I'm good, thank you. I'm not looking for anything." That was Britt again.
"Are you sure?" The guy. "I mean I know what you see in her, but I could help you see better. I could help you see… straight."
My arm slipped where it was on top of the bar. It hit a glass and it fell to the floor, shattering loudly. It was so hot and then I had felt even hotter.
"Back the fuck off, dude. She said no." I glared at him. Britt tensed behind me.
He nodded his chin at me. "You getting it on with them, too? Looking for something to beef it up?"
"Fuck you, douche bag!" I don't know what I was thinking, but it was so hot and I was so angry. I lunged for the guy. He couldn't say shit like that. Not to Britt. She didn't expect anything out of anyone. She didn't deserve it.
"Cass, no!" I feel arms grab my waist, but I kept swinging. Fucking asshole.
"What the fuck, Cass?" It was you, but you had come out of nowhere.
"He was saying stuff about Britt!" I tried to hit the guy because he was still smirking like the whole thing was a big joke.
"Cass, stop." I realized it was Puck who was holding my waist.
"Chill out, babe. Didn't mean to upset you." The guy put his hands in his pockets and I glared at him. My face felt hot with anger. Everything was so hot. "If you want, I can take you back to my place and make it up to you."
"Fuck you," I shot back. Like hell I'd go anywhere with him.
"Oh, feisty. I bet you're an animal in bed, aren't you, hot stuff?"
Suddenly, the guy howled in pain. You had launched forward and knocked him in the ear. There was a scrabble as you tried to reach him with the bar in your way and Finn tried to stop you. Puck shoved me behind him and Britt and Quinn grabbed my arms as I tried to help you.
Puck grabbed the guy and started growling out something at him and I suddenly felt exhausted. I slumped into Britt.
"I'll take her home."
Everything shifted and then Brittany was helping me out of the door and down the street. As we walked up the stairs to the apartment, she rubbed my arm reassuringly. "Do you have your key?" I nodded and pulled it out my jacket pocket. She grabbed it from me and opened the door.
Once we were inside, I went to sit on the couch, but Brittany grabbed my arm. "Cass, stop." I looked at her and she put her hand on my cheek. "You feel really hot. Let's go lay down, okay?"
I nodded again and let her take me down the hall to my bedroom. I sat down on the bed and then everything started to catch up with me. What the fuck had I done? A strangled cough forced its way out of my throat, like my body was trying to get rid of the part of me that had hurt the people I love.
God I had hurt so many people.
"Cass?" Brittany sat down on the bed next to me and everything felt hot. Hot tears poured down my cheeks. "What's wrong?"
I started sobbing uncontrollably. What had I done? I had hurt John Crater, Nicest Boy In The World. He was just another name to add to the list. Tommy, my dad, Abuela, you. Me.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?"
I coughed again and Brittany put her arm around my shoulder. I leaned into her. She let me sob for a long time. I kept trying to breathe properly, but then I would think of another thing I had done to hurt somebody, another thing I had screwed up, and I would start crying again.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Brittany asked eventually.
"No," I choked out. "It's just so hard, Britt." I thought about how she was doing this for me and how if our family was normal I wouldn't have even met her and how I screwed everything up and how I missed my dad. "I miss my family and I've made so many mistakes. Things I can't take back." Stupid pregnancy. God I was so stupid.
"It's okay," Brittany murmurs into the side of my head.
It wasn't okay. I knew you would be so mad at me. I ruined your night. "Santana is like, amazing, you know? And I love her so much. And I love you so much and that guy was saying shit about you and I had to get him, you know? Now she's going to be so pissed at me. I didn't mean for this to happen, I promise."
"I know, Cass, it's okay."
It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. It wasn't okay that I had hurt so many people and it wasn't okay that some douche bag had tried to hurt Brittany. "He just… he said you were sexy, Britt! And that he could help you see straight. He's a fucking jerk."
The door opened and then I saw you, Tía, and I started crying more.
Brittany went to talk to you in the hall and everything still felt so hot and it felt like something was trying to get out of me. Emotion and hurt and pain and shit… I didn't feel good. Suddenly you had come back and then you were grabbing my hand and leading me to the bathroom and then I was throwing up into the toilet.
When I was done being sick, you turned on the shower. "What are you doing?" I hoped I wouldn't be sick again.
"Helping you get clean," you said. Your lips thinned. "Take your clothes off."
I wasn't sure I was done throwing up so I kept my mouth firmly shut and did as you said. You helped me out of my pants and then put me in the bath. The water felt nice on my hot skin. I started shivering as your fingers combed through my hair, but it felt good.
I managed to stop crying and you helped me out of the tub, making sure I was okay. I felt guilty at the concerned look you were giving me. I had ruined your night by making it all about me and my problems.
I didn't feel like I was going to be sick anymore. You gave me my pajamas and tucked me into bed. I felt so little and it reminded me of when I was a kid and my mom was still around.
"I'm sorry," I tried to tell you. You gave me this look that broke my heart. Then you kissed my forehead and said goodnight.
I didn't sleep very well. All I could think about was the shitty things I had done… Tommy and the baby… had I done the right thing? I thought about you and Brittany and why you loved me enough to take care of me when I didn't deserve it.
I drifted in and out of sleep until my room started to turn that light gray color that happens when it's almost morning and the sun is trying its hardest to rise above the skyscrapers and peek through the clouds.
I heard a noise in the kitchen and sat up, but I was cold in the morning air. My hair felt like it was suffocating me from drying too thick and wavy overnight and I pulled it up into a ponytail.
I opened my door quietly and shuffled down the hall, shivering at the bite of the cold that stained the floor and seeped into my limbs and toes. I looked in the kitchen and saw the coffee pot on, but nobody was there. I furrowed my eyebrows and quietly peered into your room, squinting into the half-darkness. I only saw Brittany in the bed and turned back around to look for you. The window to the fire escape was open so I guessed you were outside.
I thought about going back to bed, but I wanted to explain to you. I wanted to tell you how I was trying. I was trying to be the new, better me. The old me just kept chasing after the new me though. I wanted to say sorry, and that I was trying.
I saw your NYU hoodie on the floor and grabbed it, pulling it over my head. It smelled like freshly done laundry and your shampoo, the one in the purple bottle that was always open in the shower. I reveled in the softness and warmth of the cotton as it fit snugly over my body. Then I saw a pair of Brittany's sweatpants on the floor and pulled those over my shorts.
The coffee pot beeped and I went into the kitchen and got down a mug before filling it with coffee. I took a small sip and headed outside.
You were sitting on an overturned trash can, cigarette dangling between your lips, and staring out at the building next to ours. I hadn't known until then that you smoked, Tía. You said you only smoked when you were stressed and I realized I was probably the one causing you stress. My heart clenched and I felt my eyes start to water again. God, I fucking hate crying.
You asked if I wanted to talk about it and I tried to think of an explanation, but all I could say was sorry and that I promised that I wouldn't do it again. I really hoped I could keep that promise.
I tried to put it into words, but it came out as, "I don't know what I'm doing sometimes. I'm so lost."
You sighed and looked at me. "I guess that makes two of us."
"No. You always know what to do." I felt more tears fall down my cheeks and I tried to wipe them away. You did always know what to do. In any case, you knew what to do much more often than I did.
"I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time actually. I thought that I used to know. I was like a zombie, working and fucking my life away." I smiled a little at that. Your one night stands had become a joke now. You had Brittany and there would be no more hook ups. "I was like, on this fucking cloud. Except I didn't feel high or on top of the world or anything like that. It just felt like I was looking down and watching someone else live my life for me."
Your voice was so far away, Tía, like you could see the view from that cloud, way up in the sky.
"I thought that I could work and then drink and then fuck to get through the shitty routine that my life had become. I was stupid. I was still that young kid from Ohio who'd been kicked out. I was young and felt unloved and I didn't have a dream or anything to do with my life. And I guess I never really outgrew that depressing person I was. I just stayed on that fucking cloud, while everyone else walked on and lived their life, and I was just floating in place."
I had never felt like that, I guess. It mostly felt like I was a tornado, spinning around and causing destruction as I picked up speed and grew into a bigger and bigger problem.
"Do you still feel like that?" I looked out at the red-brick building across from us and kicked a pebble out of the fire escape. It skittered into the alley between the buildings.
"Sometimes," you said. "But it's different now."
"Different how?"
"I'm not on that cloud anymore, but I still feel lost sometimes. Like I'm working at a stupid bar and will always be stuck there." You shrugged. "Mostly I feel lost when you freak me out like that. I get worried about you. I know you're a teenager and that you're going to have sex and get drunk and party and do these things. I know. But I just want you to be safe."
It's hard to miss my family when I have you, Tía. I still do though, sometimes. I wished that the way you cared about me could be enough. I wished that this new me could let go of the old me and just accept that you would always care about me more than my dad ever would.
I've accepted this now, but it took a long time to get there. It still doesn't seem real sometimes.
"I feel lost because I don't know what to do with you sometimes. It's like… I was on that cloud you know? And I felt really lost and shitty. But then one day, here you were in my apartment and suddenly I was responsible for someone and I crashed back down to reality."
I breathed in deeply and thought about the day I had met you. It seemed so long ago, even though it really wasn't.
"And then Britt came into my life and it was like my eyes were opened. I was shown that working and drinking and fucking doesn't make me who I am. It's the choices I make and the way I experience life and those choices that make me the person I am. I was on a fucking stupid cloud, getting by in life. Then the two of you came, and you brought me back. Now, I see that I have other reasons to feel lost. Real reasons. Like trying to help you not make dumb decisions and get in trouble and push you to fulfill your own dreams. And not screwing things up with Britt because she's like, the best person I know and it's no wonder my life was so shitty before, because she wasn't in it. You know?"
I thought about it. "That's a lot to process," I said eventually.
You shot me a small smile. "I'm complicated. Get over it."
I wanted to laugh, but I still felt bad about worrying you. "I don't mean to make you worried." I wanted you to know that I didn't intend to be a problem. I just was one. It was who I was. I couldn't stop it.
"I know. Just… That person, the one who worries me sometimes, it's not you. You're not like that Cass." You sighed and I realized that was it. The root of all the problems.
Old me versus new me.
"You don't know me," I said. It was true. You knew part of me, but there was still so much you didn't know. We had gotten so close so fast, but time does matter. You hadn't had time to get to know the old me. "I'm two different people."
"What do you mean?"
"There's New York me, who goes to class, even stupid gym with Britt. This me stays home on weekends and watches Jersey Shore with you and goes to the bar and sits in the corner and does homework with Quinn." I shrugged, trying to convey the offhandedness of this new me. It wasn't the whole picture. The part of me you knew was an abstract painting that wasn't finished. You could see some of it and think it was complete because it was so fucking weird, but it wasn't really even close to being complete at all.
I tried to explain the old me. "Then there's the me you don't know. The me from Ohio, who goes out and drinks enough to rival her stupid alcoholic father. That me sleeps around and ditches class to smoke pot behind the bleachers. That me draws on napkins and doodles in notebooks all the time, but still gets Ds in art. Ohio Cass follows me to New York and takes over my body sometimes. And it's like no matter how hard I try to run from Ohio me, she always catches up when things start to seem okay again."
"Maybe you should just let her catch up and just accept that she is part of who you were, but you can be a different person now if you want to," you said. Your dark eyes look into me and I wondered if you knew I was hiding something. I was hiding one of the biggest parts of me.
"Do you think it's that easy? To just accept it and change who you are?" It wasn't that easy. How could it be? You don't just get an abortion and move on like everything's fine and dandy. As much as you want to, you just can't. And why should you? You made the mistake and mistakes deserve to be punished. "You ever experience something that you know you'll never forget and the hurt from it will never go away?" I asked eventually.
"Yeah," you said with a shrug. I wondered how you could be so nonchalant. I wanted that, the indifference. I yearned for it with everything I had and more.
"How do you move past something like that?"
You pursed your lips for a moment. "You don't." I felt my heart drop in disappointment. "You just accept that it happened, and eventually time helps you understand that it might always hurt a little, but that you'll feel okay in the end. But if you don't accept it, it will just keep festering and never start to heal."
I sighed out in frustration.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I didn't. How could I tell you? You wouldn't understand. I would just hurt more people. I needed to deal with it myself.
"I think I might try to get some sleep actually." I moved to go inside, but stuck my head back out of the window. "You should come in. It's really cold out here."
You nodded and said you'd be in soon. I went back to bed, my body curled under the sheets and cuddled up in your hoodie. I thought about our conversation.
New me wanted to take your advice, to accept everything and just let go. I had a good life in New York. I had people who cared about me. I had motivation. I was doing well in school.
But new me was trying to be less selfish. Would a truly selfless person burden others with their problems and pain? Would a truly selfless person be able to just get over it?
I went back and forth as I tried to sink into sleep.
New me. Old me.
I wouldn't realize until many months later, but not everything is black and white. There are shadows and lines, colors and in-betweens.
It didn't have to be old me and new me.
I could merge my two selves into a me that had the best of both parts. There was a middle ground.
I just needed to find it.
