Chapter 4: So Sick of This Terrible Instinct
Attemping to drink myself to sleep was what I did that night. It gave me a stomachache. Too much herb tea can do that to you. I sat on the couch and watched Molly Ringwald films while my parents spoke at a psychiatric convention of some sort. I felt exactly like Duckie in "Pretty in Pink" -- pathetic. It's not like I hadn't been let down, broken up with, or other such things before, but this felt different. It was like.. Perfect Jacob would never like me back. All those other guys I fawned over would NEVER like me back because, well, too bad for Gordo, but they were straight! It wasn't fair! What if my perfect guy, my soul mate or whatever those stupid magazines say, what if he was straight? What if my soul mate was really a girl?! Sleeping with a girl.. Gross! I was so confused. I wanted to scream and rip my hair out and rip Miranda's hair out and just go to sleep all at the same time. I did none of them, though, because I am quite fond of my composure and also because the phone was ringing.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Gordo, it's me. You want to come over for awhile?" Lizzie asked.
Relief on top of anxiety on top of being exhausted kept me from being overjoyed. "Sure, be right there," I simply replied. Click. What happens next?
I clambered up Lizzie's front steps in the dim dusk light. I knocked. Lizzie appeared like an apparition, opening the door and greeting me before I even realized anything was happening. She smiled and suddenly I got that feeling, like the whole world was about to be lifted off my shoulders. Just knowing that I could spill my guts and everything about Perfect Jacob to Lizzie made my heart feel lighter.
"So. how's it going?" she asked, looking at me as she lead me up to her room, her thumbs in her pockets like she looked a bit uncomfortable.
'How IS it going?' I asked myself as I settled into a hot pink bean bag chair. I thought of Hannah Rayburn's mom on "State of Grace" who always pronounced it "bean BAG chair." And suddenly I had a(nother) painful realization, like when Hannah found out Grace's brother and his girlfriend had gotten back together and she knew he wouldn't fall in love with her. Perhaps not that severe, but I knew one thing: This wasn't a night where I'd be spinning my web of atrocious feelings so that Lizzie could hug me and tell me everything would be okay. Duh. I was supposed to be there for Lizzie. No need to burden her with anything, as my problems inevitably would.. She'd just get stuck in my web. So I replied dishonestly:
"Pretty good," I replied. "Did you know Miranda has a boyfriend?" No harm in asking..
"Yeah. He's pretty irresistible, too," she commented, propping her feet on the pillows of her bed and spreading her arms out as far as she could fling them. Ugh. I guess I shouldn't have asked.
Happy thoughts happy thoughts happy thoughts! No good comes from being the uncooperative unsupportive best friend.
"Sure. So how are things with you?" I inconspicuously changed the subject.
"Could be better." She shrugged. I didn't see it but I could feel it. She rolled over and looked at me. "Gordo, where do you get your clothes?"
Ooooookay. "Quit changing the subject. Or at least get better at it first."
"No, seriously. Where do you get your clothes? You never buy any when we're together at the mall." Well. This was puzzling. She sounded so nonchalant and sincere, and I was positive she wasn't about to mock me.
"The Salvation Army on Hack Ma Tack and the Goldmine, a thrift store, on Lawless Road."
"How come we never go there when you and Miranda and I go out?" More inquisitions. I wasn't sure I appreciated the third degree.
"Because you guys would spend the entire time complaining about how gross second-hand clothes were and how you could never buy a shirt for two dollars and blah blah blah blah blah!" I exclaimed.
"Well, I think I might stop by there sometime," Lizzie said, ignoring my less than polite comment.
"REALLY?!" I cried incredulously as my eyebrows practically flew to the moon.
"Sure. All my other clothes are so binding."
"Okay, Cher Horowitz," I muttered. Lizzie threw a pillow at me and made a face but didn't smile. She had only smiled once since I walked in the door. Obviously, she wasn't back to normal. 'But what exactly IS normal in LizzieLand now?' I couldn't answer my own question.
"Gordo, is there something I should be doing right now?" Lizzie asked.
NO MORE QUESTIONS! NO NO NO NO NO!
"Um.. Not that I know of?" My reply came out in the form of the question. I was so sick of being confused. I wasn't supposed to be confused.
"I just.." She gave a long pause. "I just feel like I should be doing something. Like, I'm completely forgetting or missing out on something. I just can't put my finger on it, I don't know what it means. It's like.." She paused again. "Nevermind. Not important." She shook her head and yawned.
I looked at my watch. 10:14 PM. "I should get home before my parents do.." I decided not to make too much of what Lizzie had just said. If it was important, she'd tell me, right?
Right?
Attemping to drink myself to sleep was what I did that night. It gave me a stomachache. Too much herb tea can do that to you. I sat on the couch and watched Molly Ringwald films while my parents spoke at a psychiatric convention of some sort. I felt exactly like Duckie in "Pretty in Pink" -- pathetic. It's not like I hadn't been let down, broken up with, or other such things before, but this felt different. It was like.. Perfect Jacob would never like me back. All those other guys I fawned over would NEVER like me back because, well, too bad for Gordo, but they were straight! It wasn't fair! What if my perfect guy, my soul mate or whatever those stupid magazines say, what if he was straight? What if my soul mate was really a girl?! Sleeping with a girl.. Gross! I was so confused. I wanted to scream and rip my hair out and rip Miranda's hair out and just go to sleep all at the same time. I did none of them, though, because I am quite fond of my composure and also because the phone was ringing.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Gordo, it's me. You want to come over for awhile?" Lizzie asked.
Relief on top of anxiety on top of being exhausted kept me from being overjoyed. "Sure, be right there," I simply replied. Click. What happens next?
I clambered up Lizzie's front steps in the dim dusk light. I knocked. Lizzie appeared like an apparition, opening the door and greeting me before I even realized anything was happening. She smiled and suddenly I got that feeling, like the whole world was about to be lifted off my shoulders. Just knowing that I could spill my guts and everything about Perfect Jacob to Lizzie made my heart feel lighter.
"So. how's it going?" she asked, looking at me as she lead me up to her room, her thumbs in her pockets like she looked a bit uncomfortable.
'How IS it going?' I asked myself as I settled into a hot pink bean bag chair. I thought of Hannah Rayburn's mom on "State of Grace" who always pronounced it "bean BAG chair." And suddenly I had a(nother) painful realization, like when Hannah found out Grace's brother and his girlfriend had gotten back together and she knew he wouldn't fall in love with her. Perhaps not that severe, but I knew one thing: This wasn't a night where I'd be spinning my web of atrocious feelings so that Lizzie could hug me and tell me everything would be okay. Duh. I was supposed to be there for Lizzie. No need to burden her with anything, as my problems inevitably would.. She'd just get stuck in my web. So I replied dishonestly:
"Pretty good," I replied. "Did you know Miranda has a boyfriend?" No harm in asking..
"Yeah. He's pretty irresistible, too," she commented, propping her feet on the pillows of her bed and spreading her arms out as far as she could fling them. Ugh. I guess I shouldn't have asked.
Happy thoughts happy thoughts happy thoughts! No good comes from being the uncooperative unsupportive best friend.
"Sure. So how are things with you?" I inconspicuously changed the subject.
"Could be better." She shrugged. I didn't see it but I could feel it. She rolled over and looked at me. "Gordo, where do you get your clothes?"
Ooooookay. "Quit changing the subject. Or at least get better at it first."
"No, seriously. Where do you get your clothes? You never buy any when we're together at the mall." Well. This was puzzling. She sounded so nonchalant and sincere, and I was positive she wasn't about to mock me.
"The Salvation Army on Hack Ma Tack and the Goldmine, a thrift store, on Lawless Road."
"How come we never go there when you and Miranda and I go out?" More inquisitions. I wasn't sure I appreciated the third degree.
"Because you guys would spend the entire time complaining about how gross second-hand clothes were and how you could never buy a shirt for two dollars and blah blah blah blah blah!" I exclaimed.
"Well, I think I might stop by there sometime," Lizzie said, ignoring my less than polite comment.
"REALLY?!" I cried incredulously as my eyebrows practically flew to the moon.
"Sure. All my other clothes are so binding."
"Okay, Cher Horowitz," I muttered. Lizzie threw a pillow at me and made a face but didn't smile. She had only smiled once since I walked in the door. Obviously, she wasn't back to normal. 'But what exactly IS normal in LizzieLand now?' I couldn't answer my own question.
"Gordo, is there something I should be doing right now?" Lizzie asked.
NO MORE QUESTIONS! NO NO NO NO NO!
"Um.. Not that I know of?" My reply came out in the form of the question. I was so sick of being confused. I wasn't supposed to be confused.
"I just.." She gave a long pause. "I just feel like I should be doing something. Like, I'm completely forgetting or missing out on something. I just can't put my finger on it, I don't know what it means. It's like.." She paused again. "Nevermind. Not important." She shook her head and yawned.
I looked at my watch. 10:14 PM. "I should get home before my parents do.." I decided not to make too much of what Lizzie had just said. If it was important, she'd tell me, right?
Right?