"Ms. Sauve? Ellie Nash, returning your call. I can't make it today, sorry. I think I'm coming down with something. We can reschedule next week or whenever." She was coming down with something, all right. It simply wasn't the traditional something that was socially acceptable.
She had gotten dressed and cleaned up yet she still felt like shit. She hadn't expected any different, mind you, but a surprise would have been nice. She forced a smile when Ashley arrived--it was simply easier that way. No prodding questions translated into no lying.
Ashley babbled on about man-whore Craig, as usual, and how they kissed and she thought she wanted to get back together. Duh. So Ellie felt compelled to expend some advice--namely, that guys could rot in hell if there was such a place. Ash was surprisingly unappreciative.
It took all of Ellie's strength not to destroy Sean's things, and strength she didn't even know she had to stop herself from sending a letter begging him to come home. Instead she packed all that he owned but included no discernable trace of emotion, refusing him the chance to analyze anything but the lack of contact. A box, an address, and his personal effects were all she could give him. She held herself to the rules, but Ashley did not. When Ellie had momentarily disappeared, she slipped an image of Bueller into the body of one of the sweaters.
It didn't take them long to finish, and Ellie shuffled Ashley out the door, not particularly concerned with being polite. Before she left, Ashley pressed a small piece of paper into Ellie's hand, and gave a tiny wave. It was a half hour before Ellie noticed it.
You are cordially invited to celebrate the union of Robert and Christopher, it read. Robert was, of course, Ashley's father. Ellie knew that well, yet it took her a long moment to figure out why she was being invited to the wedding of someone she had never heard of. She later decided that she had merely been blocking them out of her mind--their last encounter had included her mother, and had therefore been highly embarrassing.
Ellie tossed it aside. She supposed Ash could use the moral support, but a celebration of love was simply out of the question--especially a celebration that would more than likely include make-out sessions between her closest friend, and The Cheater. She had long ago given him the capitalized title.
She supposed that while she dressed and make-up (freak) free, she should try and find a job. The landlord certainly wouldn't pity her enough to let her have the place rent-free, although it hardly seemed worth it to her anymore. She found a few mangled copies of her resume, scratched in her co-op job from the year before, and headed out the door.
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It was a school day, with ugly grey weather, and the beach was therefore nearly neglected, a fact that wasn't particularly upsetting to Sean. He had found himself perched on a deadwood log with no recollection of having taken himself there. He remembered setting out, and he was aware of where he was, but the time in between was lost.
Bang, gasp, collapse. Bang, gasp collapse. Over and over until he wanted to scream. Scream. Had he screamed? Had Rick? He couldn't remember. Bang, gasp, collapse, scream. No, that wasn't right. There couldn't have been any screaming.
But the blood, it was the blood that was the worst. It had always been about blood. He'd never suffered any particular aversion to it, but then again it had never seemed to follow him as it had of late. It all started with the sucker-punch that got him sent to Toronto in the first place. He didn't like to to talk about it, and didn't even like to think about it, but it had happened. It was the first time he'd made someone bleed. And then of course there was Ellie. It killed him to wonder if ever she'd bled for him. He knew rationally that he couldn't save her, and in fact shouldn't save her, but that didn't make the sight, or the thought, any easier to bear--or, as he was sometimes responsible for, to bare. And now Rick. The kid would have killed Emma and Toby and any other number of students if Sean hadn't stepped in, but that didn't change things. Similar reassurances are so ineffective that they're laughable. And Sean did laugh--a bitter, wrenching chuckle. He supposed he was lucky there was no one else around to see him, and get him shipped off to who knows where.
He hadn't spoken to his parents since he'd announced that he was staying--in fact, they'd quickly found solace in their very overused bottles--yet he still knew that it was for the best. He also knew that he was a wimp, clearly evidenced by the fact that he hadn't even had the guts to call Ellie himself to ask for his things, but that was the least of his worries.
Bang, gasp, collapse.