AN: sorry for the slow update on this one! I'm doing a lot of thinking about where I'm going to go with this story and I had about 3 different ideas for the antagonist and I had to choose and plan it out and all that before I could publish this chapter, blah blah blah, ANYWAYS... in other news, this title for this story was really meant to be a working title. I want to change it to something that fits the story better but I don't want people to not be able to find it.
Chapter Five—Daze
Warning: Language
It has been... a week since I've imprinted. I have the world's most killer headache ever. I am currently sleeping on the couch at home. The power in the apartment suddenly shut off not long after I imprinted and we don't know why. Clara said it was the whole building and that it would get fixed soon. Just another perk of living in an old building on the Olympic Peninsula with only a few thousand people. My stuff has been moved, leaving me without a bed, but Clara told me to wait until the power got switched on again. This was apparently the longest she had ever gone without power and she was panicking to get things sorted out.
I've managed to pull myself off the couch a few times. Seth has basically been at my aid these past three days, driving me to and from work, making me scrambled eggs and peanut butter sandwiches (poor kid doesn't know how to cook much else without setting the house on fire), helping me move my stuff to my new apartment, and just generally helping me with chores. He checks on me to make sure I don't fall in the shower. When I have nothing else to do, all I can manage is to let the tv drone on between different programs. My body is so stiff and my joints feel swollen. Even little movements cause me to ache. I'm not completely useless at work, but I feel sluggish, like I'm moving in slow motion. It feels like every time I look at the clock, I've lost hours of my own time. I'm wondering if this is genetic.
I've only heard from Clara once since the power went out.
I'm guessing she doesn't want her phone to die, or it's already dead by now. I had already moved all of my stuff to the apartment in the empty bedroom and she just texted me to check up on me. Everything feels... weird. I don't think it's Seth's fault that everything tastes funny or that my mouth feels full of cotton and my jaw is locked in place.
It's been a week. Seth is doing rounds where he phases in short bursts to get out all his energy at random hours, like 4am or 3pm when no one else is phased. He's not bothered by it really, or he's not acting like it. I've got all this time to process my thoughts, but none of them make sense and I keep coming up with more and more questions. But Seth's not complaining right now or begging that I talk to the others about what went down.
Part of me is okay with this. I'm okay with just laying here, as still as possible, watching old reruns of Seinfeld or Friends because it makes me feel nothing. I just want to sleep and work and take a hot shower and sleep some more and check my phone every two minutes to make sure Clara hasn't called me to tell me that the power is back on. I figured out the first night that I have to take melatonin and liquid Benadryl to knock me out before bed and keep me from having vivid lucid dreams about her. I can't open my laptop because I know I'm going to see the emails I had open from my student account where her photos are attached.
But there's another part of me. It's the part of me that wants to rip the couch in two. I want to scream and kick a hole in the drywall. I just want to break everything in sight and maybe even myself. The spiders have actually been manageable. If anything, since I imprinted, I feel like I'm better at ignoring them instead of surpressing them. I can let them linger over my arms and hands and still sit on the couch, eating popcorn, without worrying that I'm going to hurt someone.
The house phone rang one morning. I didn't have any work that day due to the rain, which I was a bit disappointed about. My cocktail of Benadryl and melatonin was still thick in my blood. I was curious as to what the dosage I was taking would do to a regular human. Would probably send them to a hospital, if I was a betting person.
"It's Karen Spiel." Mom said, the phone against her chest. "She said you're not answering your phone."
I had seen the missed calls from her, of course, but I felt like the only thing I would get out of Karen was how I ruined the party by fighting that guy or not returning her clothes or something petty like leaving her home drunk.
"Tell her I'm asleep." I said, numbly, pulling an afghan up to my chin. I could tell Mom was making that face where she purses her lips all weirdly and sighs when she's massively disappointed. Like "Seth going to summer school" disappointed. I was surprised when she wordlessly thrust the phone into my hand. "Hello?" I quipped.
"What the hell happened, Leah?" Karen's screechy voice demanded. "Jesus, I don't even remember half of what happened last week but you punched my weed dealer and stole my dress?!"
"I didn't—" I let out a sigh, closing my eyes. "I have your dress. I'm in the process of moving—"
"You punched my weed dealer." Her voice was shrill. "Come on, man, you straight up assaulted a guy!"
"I know, I know—" I bolted upright, rubbing my face. "Okay, well is he pressing charges or something? Did he go to the police?"
"I don't know." She remarked. "But he won't sell me shit after you broke his nose!"
"Okay, okay!" I said. "What should I do? Am I supposed to go hunt this guy down and apologize?"
"I don't know, maybe he has a Facebook or a MySpace or something." Karen said. "You didn't catch his name, did you?"
"Karen, he's your drug dealer." I said, tossing my head back against the back of the couch. "Don't you know his name?"
"No, Leah, I didn't ask." She snapped. "It's a small town, he goes to a lot of parties, he's in my algebra class, I dunno. Jesus, can't you just stop being selfish and apologize for once?"
The reciever went dead and I was more confused than before. I blinked my eyes clear. Yep, there's the Karen I went to high school with. Better yet, now I had some guy, possibly trying to press charges on me. Great. Awesome. Exactly what I need right now.
I barely had time to lay back down and push that out of my mind when I was interrupted. "What has gotten into you?" Mom demanded, her hands on her hips. It shocked me how much energy she suddenly had to be angry. Jeez. And here I thought she wouldn't even notice that I was falling apart, much less care.
"Huh?" I asked, sitting back up.
"You're just laying around the house moping. You're not even doing anything. What, are you depressed or something?" She said in a lecturing voice. "Do you need to see Dr. Cullen and have him prescribe you something?"
I stared at her, absolutely bewildered. "Excuse me?" I asked. It occurred to me that no matter how hypocritical it seemed for her to be worried about my current lethargic state, she had no idea what happened. She didn't know that I imprinted. She didn't know that I was in the height of my midlife crisis at twenty-one. "Mom, I've... I've got something going on right now, okay?"
"Leah, do you want to talk about it?" Her voice softened a bit, sitting down on the couch beside me. "What's going on, honey?"
I rubbed my head. "It's... Mom, it's complicated and I don't want to talk about it right now." I took a deep breath. She was waiting patiently for my answer. "I'm... I'm going through something right now and I just need to get through it first."
Her face sunk. "I know you went to that party last week, and now Karen's calling the house all frantically and... I just want to make sure you're not hurt or something, you've been sleeping so much." She wasn't angry, but her voice exuded such an intense disappointment that I knew she was seriously hurt by whatever was bothering me. "No one hurt you, did they?"
"No, Mom," I shook my head. "No one hurt me."
"And you're not... you're not doing drugs or anything?" She tilted her head. "I mean, I know with your whole... condition things work differently for you. I know you and your brother have wicked metabolisms, but..."
"No, I'm not doing drugs." I shook my head. "I'm okay, Mom. Really. It's just... drama."
"Drama?"
I shook my head with more emphasis. "I'm okay. Seriously."
Her eyebrows raised. "You're still moving though, right? The drama isn't with... with that girl, right?"
"No." I cut in. "It's fine."
Mom only seemed half-satisfied with my answer. She patted my leg. "Why don't you run over to the apartment? I know the power's out, but you could still go visit with... what was her name?"
"Clara." My throat hurt saying her name.
"Clara." Mom repeated. "Right, well, you could still go say hi to her."
"Right." I nodded. I didn't want to bring up the fact that my steering wheel roughly resembled an elongated donut bent in half. Mom was giving me this look like she was going to stare at me until I walked out the door (she did, by the way). I had to make a stop by Billy Black's house and have Jacob do god-knows-what to my steering wheel to fix it. It wasn't a perfect fix, but I also wasn't paying him, so that was as good as it was going to get.
I actually managed to surprise myself with the fact that I didn't know what I was feeling. I literally pulled my car into the local gas station just to give my brain a few more minutes to come up with a word. What the hell was I feeling? I was feeling something. It was like a parasite, gnawing at my intestines, cramping and making me feel like I was always on the verge of throwing up. My heart was racing nonstop and my head was throbbing all over. None of the other pack members complained of this kind of illness. I went in and bought two slushees, one red and one blue, and continued pondering what I could possibly be feeling. At best, I felt like an emotional soup. Like a crockpot filled with anger and sadness and confusion and relief and... happy? Was I happy? Was I supposed to feel happy? Was I allowed to be happy about all of this? Emotionally, I didn't think the slushees would help, but it gave me an excuse to delay the inevitable.
Clara was at the apartment. We were on the edge of the town, almost as soon as you cross the bridge to come in. We were closer the Cullens than the reservation, which... made me kind of uneasy and I didn't know why. There was a thick patch of woods surrounding the parking lot. Good, in case I ever needed to phase. She answered the door, a little shocked to see me, but she quickly put on a smile. She didn't have work until later, so she didn't have makeup on and she was wearing red and gold Forks High School booty shorts and a white t-shirt. Her long blonde hair was in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She also didn't have any contacts in and was instead had on a pair of thick black frames. "Hey! What... what's up? Are you moving stuff? Do I need to grab my shoes and help you?" She asked, really only sticking her head out the door.
"N-no, I just came by the say hi." I stammered. She was so much prettier than I remembered. It was actually like a perfect 180 degree spin; now, as I'm standing in this dingy, humid, rank hallway on the second floor tucked under the awning, I'm wondering if I can even muster up the energy to be angry at myself. I couldn't bear the thought to beat myself up over this. I couldn't actually bear to think about anything right now. My brain shut off completely. I could actually feel my headache and my nausea taper off for a moment. I was actually kinda hungry. "I, er, I brought you a slushee. I didn't know if you wanted blue or red."
She bit her lip and gave a little laugh. "That's really sweet of you, actually!" For a moment, I could see her eyes flicker with hesitation and thought before picking the blue one. She nodded into the apartment. "You can come on in. I mean, you live here now. I was in the middle of some homework, but I really didn't want to do it anyways. Damn WiFi's out so I can't do any of my online work." The whole place was dark, except for the bright light shining in the big window across from the door, flooding the living room and kitchen with light. The coffee table was covered in papers and drawing and pens of every color you could imagine. She also had candles burning in every available surface. The room was warm and welcoming and smelled faintly of eucalyptus and peppermint. Clara plopped down on the floor where she had presumably been sitting and took a sip of her slushee.
"Wouldn't your world have WiFi you can use?" I suggested.
Clara shrugged. "Yeah but I can't focus over there. I already have to charge my phone when I'm there. It's just so loud and my coworkers wanna talk and stuff." She said.
"You know, there might be some boys on the Rez that could come take a look at the breaker." I suggested.
She shook her head. "It's no biggie. Mark, the landlord, he's waiting on a part or something to be shipped from like China. It's all good though. He said it should be back on by tonight. So what's up with you, huh?"
"Not much, really." I shook my head, trying to hold back an awkward smile. Thinking about you nonstop? "Just cooped up at home with my brother and working. Wait, you said you had homework already?"
"Yeah," she sighed and shook her head. "Technically I'm in the art division and they start like a month early. It's weird."
"So... you're into art, huh." I remarked, leaning over the coffee table to look at her drawings.
"Oh they're not that great, it's just thumbnails." Her cheeks turned red and she began shuffling through her papers. "I'm working on some designs for a fake beer company, it's a mess..."
"No, they're pretty cool." I mentioned, grabbing a stray one before she took it. Just like she said, it was a sample of a beer company logo. The name was kind of silly, "Granny Apple Tappery." Her line work was smooth and clean and her handwriting was actually really pretty.
"It's really not." She pointed over her shoulder to a painting on the wall that I hadn't even noticed. It looked like an oil painting of a greek goddess playing with a little boy. "I used to make real painting and art. It's Artemis and Cupid. I did it back my... senior year of high school, I think?"
I looked at it a little bit closer. Yep, it was hand crafted and nearly perfect, but there were tiny imperfections on it. "You made this?" I asked, shocked. "And you're going into marketing?"
She laughed nervously, her face still red as she looked away. "Thanks, it's really no biggie though."
"I like it." I said. "You got any more?"
"Um," She pointed across the room above what looked like a makeshift liquor cabinet made out of a short bookshelf. "I made the one over there." It was thick and abstract paint splattered over a square canvas. I couldn't make out the colors that great, and I'll be honest, I really don't get abstract art, but it was fun. "I made that one in my Color Theory class."
"Oh yeah?" I tilted my head. "What's your favorite color?"
We both laughed. She took a thoughtful sip of her slushee and pushed her glasses back up on her nose. "I don't know. Pink, maybe? I really like pink. What about you?"
"I dunno." I shrugged. "Red, I guess. Like. burgundy red, not firetruck red."
Clara nodded. "Cute." She leaned back against the couch. "I wish I had more time to paint for fun and stuff, not just for work. This stuff is fun, but there's too many limits and stuff."
"Did you make anything over the summer?" I asked.
"I did, kind of, but I haven't hung anything up yet. I dunno if you'd like any of it." Her voice was a little embarrassed. "I sold some stuff too for some extra cash too."
"I'm not interrupting your work, am I?" I asked nervously.
"Nah, you seem cool. And thanks... for the um, for the drink too. You didn't have to get me anything though, but that was so thoughtful..." Clara smiled reassuringly. "What kind of food do you like? I'm er, I should probably tell you that I'm kind of vegan, but I'm cool with you eating whatever. But just so you know, I'm not getting paid for another three days and all I have in the pantry to black bean soup and Brussels sprouts."
There had to be something hilarious about all this, somewhere. I've managed to fall head-over-heels for some sweet little five-foot-one girl I just met last week and I just happened to get a hippie. It definitely was a little off-putting, but it was so charming to me. I couldn't help but smile. She might've been an absolute cliche, but I found her so fascinating. I would've payed all my savings to sit in a room with her and just listen to her talk to me and tell me all about her life. This entire mess felt completely out of my control and my head was foggy and confused and right now, amidst being caught in this confused whirlwind of feelings again, I just wanted to let myself give in. I wanted to collapse in this. The hurt of being angry and being full of sadness didn't even feel worth it. Now, I'm sitting here, wondering if I'm supposed to feel angry, if I can even muster up my anger and grief. It feels impossible. I know how I'm supposed to feel, but I... can't. I can't feel that around her.
"You don't have to buy food for me or anything, if that's what you're saying." I shook my head. She has a boyfriend, Leah. The voice in the back of my head nagged. You don't even have a chance. I'm starting to realize how selfish I am. When you imprint you're supposed to be whatever you partner needs at that moment, not what they want. There's no guarantee that you fall in love with them, you don't get to sign a contract. It's absurd of me to start concocting any kind of fantasy about her. It's absurd of me to want to. Wait, do I want to?Maybe she doesn't even need me yet, and I mean that in every sense of the word. And right now, I don't even know what I want out of this, if I'm even ready to want this. I'm starting to wonder if maybe I just wanted a warm body and someone to talk to me nicely. Is that selfish? I can't find the line here.
"Oh come on, it could be fun. Seriously, I have to go get some food soon though. I've got salad, if you like salad, and that's about it." Clara said. She bit the inside of her lip and turned her head back to her drink. "I honestly don't eat much... but I mean, if you need notebooks or bedsheets or anything..."
"I.. think I have everything, but if you've really got some time to kill, sure, we could head out sometime." I agreed. "I don't usually spend the gas to come all the way out to Forks. You could, you know, show me around this place or whatever."
A smirk turned up on her lips. "Oh yeah," she seemed a bit sarcastic. "All, what, four miles of it?"
I realized how much I liked hearing her laugh.
