"Daria!" I was genuinely surprised to see her here. Without Trent or Jane, these venues held little enough appeal for her, and they was nowhere in sight. I immediately broke contact with Karen and moved towards her.
"It looks like you're doing well." Daria responded in her cynical monotone. "You've got lipstick on your face." My face turned a bright red as I wiped my face.
"What brings you here?" I asked politely.
"I can see what brought you." Daria commented, causing me to scowl. That was a low blow.
"I didn't come here to make out with strangers."
"Don't you need your car for that?" Again with the low blows.
"And you haven't lost your touch. I'd almost think you were jealous." I winced inwardly as I said that. Although Daria knew about our verbal sparring, it may not have been the most tactful approach. But I definitely wanted her to stop with the snipes.
"Of course not. We're not dating. Who you lock lips with is none of my business." Daria protested, but I could see right through her. She was good at hiding her feelings, but I had been dating her for months. I knew when something bothered her. And this bothered her.
Part of me told myself to back off. There was no sense compounding on an already awkward situation. But another part of me told me to press it. A nagging voice from deep within told me that she was vulnerable, and that this was my chance to take revenge on her for the break-up, for the misery I suffered at her hands.
I suppressed the dark desire.
"So, aren't you going to introduce me?" Daria's voice still sounded like a put-on.
"I've already figured it out, girl." Karen replied. Daria did not reply to her.
"I'll just leave you two, then." Karen turned back towards Zon.
"Hey, Karen, wait up!" I called. But she had already walked back in, and probably forgotten all about me. I took in a deep breath and ignored my knee-jerk reaction to blame Daria. This wasn't her fault.
"You're not going to chase her? I mean, a second ago..."
"Look, that was a fluke, okay. She spiked my drink, I was feeling flushed..."
"Wow, you really do know how to make a girl feel special." Daria noted.
"Daria, does this truly bother you?" I dealt with the elephant in the room. "That I was with someone else."
"I've already answered that. No, it doesn't." Daria lied through her teeth. "Who you date is not my concern."
"I wasn't dating her, I just met her half an hour ago."
"And already making out. Wow, that's some kind of record." My bitterness rose with Daria's assaults. I tried to let her comments brush off me, just as I did when I was seeing Jane, but found it was no longer working, the voice in my head telling her to go on the offensive. I repressed the urge to lash out at her again, but it took a lot longer to do.
"Is Jane with you?" I tried, pleasantly, to change the subject.
"Want to make out with her, or just to watch?" I felt something snap within my head, the deep rage within could no longer be denied.
"Why don't you just say what really bothers you." I scowled, clenching my fists and started accusing her. "You seeing me with someone else so quickly disturbs you. It makes you feel worse about yourself."
"Hey!" Now Daria became incensed. "I just told you..."
"And you're still here." I returned, interrupting her. "You're still fighting."
"I'm not fighting with you because I'm angry, it's because this is hilarious." Daria returned.
"Let me in on the joke, then." I had no more patience.
"It would be wasted on you." She returned.
"Or because it doesn't exist." I crossed my arms across my chest. "I hit it right on the head. You're mad that I've gotten over what you put me through."
"On someone you found two seconds ago." Daria had returned to her brief comments. I was in no mood.
"There you go again, Daria. Do you want me to mope around, lying on my bed crying, holding the sheets to my face because they smell like you?"
"Tom, I just said..."
"I heard you just fine. Now, really answer the question. Are you truly amused by the fact that I was kissing someone else, or are just angry. Angry because I got over you first?" I picked my words carefully to mimic what she told me at the pizza place for maximum effect. She would get the reference. I expected another lash out, another cynical comment. Instead, she said nothing. Her face gave away nothing; I couldn't tell if she was angry or sad. So I made the first move. I thought about going back to Karen, but decided against it. I had absolutely no desire to discuss anything relating to Daria right now, and I would have owed her an explanation. So, I went over to my Rustmobile, and drove right back home.
"Did I go too far?" I thought as I drove home. What I said didn't surprise me, but how I felt about it truly shocked me. Shocked and sickened me, my stomach turned in protest. A week of wallowing in misery turned to such bitterness. I knew that I wasn't over what had happened, but I had thought it just needed a distraction. But now I found myself driving the knife in deeper, using what I knew about Daria to cause her doubt and misery. Despite all of Daria's deep insecurities, doubt was an extremely effective weapon against her. Her attitude was all she had.
I knew that Daria was no saint either. Although she did almost exactly what I expected her to do, she did it anyway. She knew full well how I felt about her, how much her opinion mattered to me. I had made no illusions about it. I don't know what her goal with her taunts was. Was it merely her stark commentary on the situation, friendly concern manifested in all the wrong ways, like how she and I teased Jane's friend Nathan, or did she too have her own darkness. Did she resent me for the break-up? My initial thought was to dismiss that idea: It was Daria's idea to break up, not mine. Was she merely trying to hate me? Or was I correct in ways I didn't imagine. Did she want me to long for her? Whatever her reasons, she certainly didn't care to spare my feelings.
"Just like you." A voice in my head reminded me. "You wanted Daria to feel like you did when she hurt you." I did. Part of me didn't want to hurt her, most of me didn't want to hurt her. But her callousness caused me a great amount of hurt, and she wasn't hurt by it. She wanted to end our relationship no matter what it did to me. Why should I consider her feelings when I didn't register on hers?
It wasn't too late by the time I made it home. We had no curfew, not that Mom or Dad would have been awake to enforce anything. I snuck quietly up to my room, trying to avoid everyone. Luckily, I was able to do so. I stewed quietly as I got ready for bed. There was so much that I hated right now. I hated Daria for her cruel actions today, and for her showing up, making me realize how not over her I really was. I hated Karen for being so forward, for her slick pick-up tricks, taking advantage of a stupid little rich kid. But most of all, I hated myself. I hated myself for getting angry with Daria when I knew better. I hated myself for knowing how to cut her down, and acting on it. I hated that I knew how much this would hurt her, and I did it anyway. And I hated that I reasoned it was the most efficient course of action. I span around to hit the lights, and climbed into bed. I tried to blot out my thoughts about Daria and tonight. The whiskey from that shot helped, and soon I was fast asleep.
The next morning, I started to get ready for lunch. Dad would be there, supposedly. I doubted he'd miss it, but other things had happened. Dad had missed most of my birthdays to work, this was just another day for him.
"Good morning, Tom." Mom came to the door. "Oh, you're already ready? You came in late last night."
"Not very late." I returned. True enough, I was home by 11, and I got to sleep fairly quickly. I was usually in much later.
"Did Daria ever call?" Mom asked.
"No." I replied. "Sorry, Mom."
"Oh, well, it can't be helped. Dear, would you put on your good shoes, please. And Tom, those pants? They're so wrinkled."
"Mom, it's the country club, everyone knows who we are and no one will care because you serve on the Board." I returned.
"There's no excuse to not be presentable." Mom returned. "Now get your good pants on, Tom." She left to give me some privacy, and I started to oblige. This was honestly not worth the fight. Presentable. Such an ugly word. Mom's obsession with appearance reminded me of Daria's vain little sister Quinn. After changing, I regarded the mirror.
"Not a wrinkle, not a hair out of place." I inwardly groaned at myself. The mirror looked the same as it did any other day, and just showed my reflection. But as I regarded myself, I felt that bile in my throat rise again.
"Presentable. Yes indeed." My mind sounded, and I wondered whether I was talking to my reflection, or my reflection was talking to me.
"Handsome as ever, Tom Sloane. But a handsome monster. A beautiful face to hide your evil mind, clean clothes to disguise your twisted heart. And you go out again with the smiles and the chuckles, to the people you hate. Your world, just like Daria said."
I nearly took my old sneakers to smash the mirror. But smashing the mirror wouldn't do anything. All it would do was create a mess to clean up. I avoided looking at it as I went downstairs to announce my presence.
The luncheon at the club was every bit as insipid and dull as I imagined. Mom truly was proud, although I had no idea how much pride she could take in this event; it wasn't as if I wasn't going to graduate from Fielding. I had made salutorian, which I guess was some sort of accomplishment, but that didn't register as important on my radar. Dad, to my surprise, made it as well. Elsie was absent, my one saving grace. I sat quietly, trying to make sure I had food in my mouth at all times. I had hoped it would make an effective deterrent to questions, but family friends always seem to want to probe the guest of honor with mindless questions. They would have all already known about my acceptance to Bromwell, but they all seemed to want to shake my hand and tell me about my future.
"I feel like I'm in some sort of crappy sci-fi movie." It was such a shame that Mom seemed to only invite the childless couples, so there was no one even remotely interesting to talk to. Where did Brandon and Rebecca disappear to? And how could I vanish before I incurred a cerebral hemorrhage from this stupidity.
"I suppose faking vomiting would work, even if it was bad form." But, as if in spite, my stomach decided to sit quietly.
An hour and a half passed like an eternity. As we left the club, I looked around, trying desperately to find something, anything, that would get me away from this place.
"Oh, Tom, you know who I heard from today?" Mom asked.
"Who?" I bit the bullet, not that I would have been able to get away from the answer anyway. Mom wouldn't tell me if she didn't want me to know.
"Andrew Landon." Dad answered. I remembered the name. Andrew was the father of Jodie Landon, one of Daria's friends.
"He's on the wait list at Winged Tree, right?" I remembered him saying something like that last year, the last time I had even associated with him.
"Exactly. We're going to meet him this Saturday. Maybe you should join us. His daughter went to school with Daria, didn't she?" Mom asked.
"She did. I don't think I could make it though. Besides, don't you do the vigorous screening or whatever it is with Mr. Landon. I'll pass." I walked away from my parents, not even bothering to wait for them. I was so sick of hearing about Daria-related topics. I knew I could put a stop to it by telling my folks we broke up, but that felt like defeat.
I didn't want to head home, it would have been too easy for my parents to find me. But, I had to go home anyway to change. As I changed, my phone started to ring. It made me panic, and I was worried that it was Daria. But it continued to ring after 4 rings, so I picked up the line.
"Hello?"
"Tom?" There was a woman's voice on the other line. It was Jane.
