Chapter four: Apparitions
It was around two 0' clock when I first saw him.
I was coming home from a major kegger at CeeCee and Adam's house, totally wasted, so that I was actually seeing double. Chris, God bless him, had to carry me up the stairs, since I was so drunk, I couldn't even walk straight.
I don't usually drink so much, just to let you know. In fact, apart from the plane ride (and even that was composed of multiple cups of apple cider) and the party we had at CeeCee's on graduation night, this incident was the only time I had actually taken in more than one cup of underage booze. I don't even understand what drove me to drinking in the first place. I was wandering down one of the long, empty hallways of their huge, somewhat mansion-like house (actually it was Adam's, left over from a family inheritance) when I felt something shimmer at my side, and I swear I heard my name.
This all would've been habitual two years ago, back when Jesse and I were still together (kicking ghost-butt, I mean). But after the last one, after everything that had happened with her, I think they knew not to come to me anymore. I wasn't Suze Simon, mediator. How could I help anyone, when I couldn't even figure out myself? One minute he was standing in the doorway…
Heart racing, I walked back towards the music, striding across the carpeted floor and grabbed the first drink that I could find.
Alcohol burned down my throat as I chugged, and almost immediately, reached for another one. I was downing my third when I felt a hand at my sides. "Suze," Chris said. "Whoa there, Babe. I think that's enough."
"No." I remember saying. "No. It's not over." He turned me around to face him, and I leaned against his chest, falling into his arms. The cup fell to the floor. "No." I whispered, to myself. "No, he's not gone."
The bodies were swirling, colors mixing before my eyes. I felt him steady me from beind.
"Come on," he said. I felt him leading me, shielding me from the gyrating bodies as we parted the crowd. "Hey Alex! Get her coat, will ya? Thanks, man." He draped it over my shoulders.
I remember the cool air of the parking lot, a rush of sanity breathing over me as he led me to his car. I remember leaning in to kiss him, but getting his nose because I was so tipsy. He watched as I sat down in the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt. His kiss on my forehead was chaste, almost sad, in a way.
What had I said?
The car ride was soothing, and I fell asleep.
- - -
Chris was carrying me across the hallway to my room, trying to stifle my giggles as I tried, unsuccessfully, to unbutton his shirt. Susannah Simon is a cheap drunk.
He tucked me into bed, and despite my protests, was heading out the door.
It was at this time, after hearing the door shut, that I remember seeing him sitting on the window seat.
Just like he always had. Petting Spike, as though he had never left. The moonlight was shining blue in his hair.
I recognized the look on his face from all those times when he was disappointed in me, like when he'd catch me lying to my mom about my homework, or when I sicked those RLS angels on Michael Meducci. It was a look that my dad used to give me, kind of like, 'Susannah, you know better than this.' It was a look that told me he was angry with me, but that he loved me anyway.
"Bullshit." I had said. Or maybe I had only thought it.
I blinked at him, at first uncomprehending, and then, placing a hand upon my forehead, had muttered, "God, now I'm delusional."
I fell back against the pillows. When I looked back, he was gone.
Poof, just like that. I didn't even hear Spike's paws against the roof. Like all it had been was some weird dream.
And that's what I thought it was, until I saw him again.
- - -
The next time I was completely awake. And sober.
I was just coming out of the bathroom after a long hot shower, getting ready to go out with Chris and take him sight seeing around Carmel. We were planning to take a trip down to the Mission afterwards to pay a visit to Father D.
The fifth day we were in Carmel, Chris had asked me to move in to him. His roommate Eric was leaving for London when school started, and he had an extra room in his flat.
I didn't know what to say. We had talked about it before in New York, and he thought it was the right time. He thought we were good for each other. He thought I was the one.
Chris, my boyfriend. The one who had said 'I love you.' I can still remember the hurt in his eyes when I didn't say it back.
I told him I'd think about it. This was a big step. There were lots of things that could go wrong, once a couple moved in together. What would my parents think? How would I explain this to Caddy, back at the dormitory?
And the voice, screaming, in the back of my head. What about Jesse? It shrieked. What about Jesse?
Okay, you can hit me now.
I just about wanted to hit myself. What about him? Said another voice in my head. This was the one that talked me out of spending too much. What has Jesse ever done for you?
He left. That's Jesse. He left you, knowing full well you loved him. He left you. He had never loved you back.
As soon as I saw Chris' car leave the driveway, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and ran. Past the trees, across the green grass—I was running, breathing hard under the mid-afternoon sun, feeling the pain in my legs and the beat of my feet against the pavement. The sidewalk to our house ran uphill, and my Jimmy Choos were getting stuck along the cracks. Suddenly I wanted more than anything to trip and fall hard, against the concrete—to scrape my skin and to lie down, helplessly in the middle of the road. I wanted to feel physical pain, to bleed—anything to take my mind off the emotions bubbling inside of my chest.
That's how much of a loser I am. Because I know that I still love him.
So much that I can still picture his face perfectly. So much that I still think about him at least once a day. So much that I went berserk that time when I thought I had lost his miniature. That's how much of a loser I am. I am that girl who sunk her claws into somebody and never let go.
It's been two years, and I still haven't let go.
- - -
What about Jesse?
It was three O' clock, and I was lying smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk. My hair was a mess. And my stomach was growling.
Somehow I couldn't get up until my question was answered. What had happened to the strong Suze? The one who wouldn't take shit from anyone? What had happened to the Suze who was near recovering, who was happy to be home?
You can still be her, a voice said. You don't need him, now. You don't need anyone.
My stomach growled as I sat up. The world swung before me at dizzying rates, but almost immediately, I felt my vision clear.
What about Jesse?
Nothing. I thought. Not even nothing. A big fat nothing.
It took me about an hour to walk to the Carmel Crown. Three minutes to ask the concierge the number of his room. Two minutes in the elevator and running across the hallway.
And thirty seconds before he answered the door, greeting me with those baby blues.
I pushed him in and kissed him, closing the door behind us. We fell back against the wall, his lips on my neck, my hands along his back and in his hair.
"Suze." He whispered as we came up for air. "What—"
I silenced him with another deep kiss. "Yes." I said, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Confusion flooded his eyes before they widened in comprehension. "Yes?" He breathed. "Really, Suze? You wanna move in with me?"
I don't know what came over me. In that moment he looked so sweet and sincere, his eyes sparkling and so loving. This was Chris, who'd never, ever hurt me. Even if it never felt like love, wasn't this the best thing that there was?
I kissed him in reply. And then we didn't say anything for a long time.
- - -
It wasn't until I was falling asleep that night that I realized I might have behaved rashly.
In retrospect, you could even say that it was actually a pretty bad idea. It certainly felt like one when I walked out of the bathroom the next morning and found Jesse, sitting on the window seat.
And this time he didn't disappear.