Sorry about the wait. I've got many excuses and they all suck. Thanks for reading, though. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)
It's Tuesday and Beck is still at my house when I wake up. He stays with me all morning, but he doesn't say much. He makes himself a sandwich and he watches TV in the living room while I lie in the dark in my bed, unable to sleep anymore despite how exhausted I am. My head aches and my stomach is sick but I feel numb and even though it's temporary, for once I only hurt in the physical sense of the word, and this is the happiest I've been in a while.
Around eleven Beck comes back to my room and lies across the foot of my bed. He stares at me for a while and my throat swells more and more as the seconds tick by without a word. I can't breathe. I need to get out of here but I can't move without my head blowing up.
"You wanna tell me what last night was about?" He asks quietly.
"No."
"Let me rephrase that." He dramatically clears his throat like he's about to give some big, mind-blowingly inspirational speech. "You need to tell me what last night was about."
"I don't need to tell you anything."
"Jade." He just says my name and gives me that look that always works on me. I'm everything I hate around him. All he has to do is look at me and I fall apart and lose all sense of myself and just become this stupid, easily-influenced, totally dependent, disgusting, love-struck teenager, and the worst part is that I like it. Most of the time I don't even realize that I'm acting that way and I'm entirely content with just obeying every order he gives me, as long as he just tells me he loves me, or at the very least keeps looking at me that way…
"Why are you even asking? You already know what's wrong with me." His face doesn't change. My heart is melting and I can hardly even feel it.
"…Still?"
"What do you mean, still? Is it wrong that I'm not okay yet? Is that what you're saying? Are you trying to tell me I should be better by now? It's been one week, Beck."
"Almost two weeks." He corrects me and he instantly regrets it. He leaps right off my bed and takes a few steps back before he realizes I'm in no shape to smack him for that comment.
"It's been a hard year, okay? I'm still dealing with…everything…and my whole life's just kind of messed up, you know? So I just…I don't feel okay, and I'm not okay, but I will be eventually. Just not now."
"I know. I'm sorry." He moves closer and turns on the lamp beside my bed. The sound of the chain being pulled hurts more than the light does. "Get out of bed. I made you lunch."
Lunch. Yay. That makes everything better.
"We need to get to school soon." He adds once I half-fall out of my bed and pull some clean clothes on. I feel like punching him for even suggesting that I leave the house today, but I settle with glaring at him instead.
"Come on Jade, you missed all last week."
"So did you."
"And I'm going to school today, just like you are. You have no excuse. You're only miserable because you made yourself that way." I know he means with the drinking but I can't help but think that this applies to the entirety of my life as well. I could have just gone on hating Tori, and this wouldn't hurt. If I hadn't chosen to like her, I would be okay right now. I would be alright.
It's funny how terrible I am at making good decisions.
I go to school even though I know Beck would have given in eventually, and I sit through one whole class without crying or hurting anybody or leaving like I so desperately want to. After that, though, it sounds like a much better idea to just ditch class. I have nowhere to hide in this stupid building though. The halls are full of those horrible posters and the fucking shrines that I can't go two fucking seconds without seeing, and I can't go to the janitor's closet – that was something I shared with Tori. I can't go hide in any of the theaters – Tori's been on all those stages so many times… I don't want to go outside either – each of those disgusting blue tables remind me of all those lunch periods sitting at our usual spot, which isn't our usual spot anymore – but at least if I go out there, I won't risk seeing her face anywhere.
I drag myself out to the Asphalt Café and collapse onto a random table, setting my bag on the table top so I can use it as a pillow while I take a much-needed nap. It doesn't exactly work out, as this is a very uncomfortable seat and my bag is way too lumpy. I don't know why I even carry it around anymore. All that's in there is a bunch of crap I don't use. I haven't even looked inside it for quite some time, until now. There are a bunch of receipts, the wrappings of things I opened when I wasn't near a trash can, a bundle of keys at the bottom, of which one is my car key, one is my house key, and the other five hundred are for who-knows-what. My wallet is settled at the bottom, full of nothing but random punch cards from stores I don't go to anymore and maybe five dollars. I've got a few granola bars in here, which are probably stale by now, but they look disgusting anyway. There's a book in here that I'm pretty sure belongs to Beck, three pairs of sunglasses, one of which has a busted lens, two of my favorite pairs of scissors, and at the very bottom, a small black notebook… Tori's notebook.
After the horrible mistake I'd made going to Tori's visitation, I'd forgotten all about taking this from her room. I'm almost afraid to read it. After yesterday, I now have a pretty good idea of what kind of things she'd said about me in here, and I don't know if I want to be reminded.
I flip the book open anyway and skim through the first few pages. Beside the scary accurate drawings of each member of our group, she has very detailed descriptions of everyone, coupled with her first impression of us all. I want to laugh at her first impressions of Cat and Robbie – she, like everyone else on the planet – questioned their sanity before she even knew their names – but it feels completely inappropriate to find humor in something that belonged to someone who's dead.
I read through Andre's page, taking my time because I'm afraid to see my own. Her first impression of me was obviously a bad one.
Suddenly, there's a hand on my back, and someone sits down beside me before I can turn to see who it is.
"Whatcha reading?" Andre asks very unenthusiastically, peaking at the page in front of me. "Did you draw that?"
"Uhh, no…I, uh… I know it's horrible but I… I took this from Tori's room…" He just brushes off my crime and leans closer, studying his page of the book.
"I didn't know she could draw like that." He comments softly, running his fingers over the paper as he reads everything Tori had to say about him. It's obvious by the second sentence that they were great friends. A detailed description of her first impression of Andre is followed by a giant paragraph of all sorts of disgusting mushy crap about how important he was to her and how he was the first real best friend she'd ever had in her life. I would feel uncomfortable reading this even if I were still alone, so having Andre there, taking in these same words over my shoulder has brought this little book to a whole new level of awkward.
I reach the end of his page, but Andre's a slow reader and I don't say anything to him until he finishes. I can tell he's expecting me to turn the page, but I also know that I'm on the other side, and while Andre was her real best friend and probably knew every feeling toward me that Tori had and wrote in here, the thought of him reading it with me makes vomiting sound like a great time.
"I'm gonna read my page alone." It's not a question, but he answers like it is.
"Yeah, that's fine. I get it." His hands are folded on top of the table now and he's staring off in the general direction of the parking lot, probably considering getting up and running away to avoid talking to me any more than he already has.
"Can I ask you a question?" That was a question. God, I hate when people ask that. Why did that just come out of my mouth? "I mean- When, umm… When Tori… When we were friends…did that bother you?"
"You mean like….all the time you guys spent together? You're asking if I was jealous?"
"Yeah." He shrugs twice and opens his mouth, only for a breath to come out while the words stay in. He struggles with his answer for a few more seconds before finally speaking in a tone I don't completely believe. "Not really. I didn't get to see her much, you know, but I get it. I'm a dude, you're not. You kind of win by default."
"You really think I was a better friend to her than you were?" I don't intend to make a joke out of this but my voice comes out with a hint of laughter.
"No." He answers right away and his smile makes me feel better. "You're a terrible person. I was obviously the better friend." I know he's joking but I also know there's some truth in what he says, and I can't help but take it to heart. He looks embarrassed for a split second, before he starts digging himself out of the hole he just put himself in. "But you know, there are just some things girls can't talk to a guy about. I'm, uhh…glad she had you for that."
"Things like what?" I inquire. Andre's a good distraction. He's going through the same thing I am, and unlike Beck, he doesn't question why I need to be distracted. He just does it, because talking and joking about other things gets both our minds off of her.
"Well…ummm...things like-"
"Girls don't sit around talking about boys, shopping, and their hair all the time, you know."
"They don't?" I can tell he isn't completely serious, but he looks rather uncomfortable now, and I love it.
"And that fantasy you guys have about us having pillow fights while wearing lingerie for no reason…that doesn't happen either."
"Dang." He laughs this time, but leaves it to me to keep the conversation going. I lick my lips and close my eyes for a second, partially believing he'll be gone when I open them again and I can just go back to reading by myself.
"Well, I don't actually know what most girls talk about with each other… Tori and I, we had a… Well, I wouldn't say our relationship was normal. It couldn't be, really. I don't know how I really went from – from pouring coffee on her head the first day I met her to counting her as my best friend a couple years later." He nods in silence. I wish he'd say something before I start sharing too much. "And then we just…started over, I guess. I mean, it was different this time...it was a lot worse. What I did to her was just...terrible. "
"I know." Andre finally speaks again, only he wasn't supposed to agree with me. That doesn't make me feel any better. This is exactly why I don't usually talk about my problems. As long as they don't come out of my mouth, the words can bounce around in my head and arrange themselves any way I want them to. Once they're out, though, there's only one way they can be dealt with.
"You know?" I spit out the two words in the harshest tone possible, and he flinches.
"I just meant she told me what you did. Not that-"
"Just forget it." I mumble, closing my eyes again. I've never wanted to go home so much in my entire life. I don't think my legs will even function long enough to bring me back to class.
Andre is dead quiet for close to an entire minute, and I have nothing to say to end his silence. I wonder if he's anywhere near as uncomfortable as I am right now.
"You've been so…nice…lately." He finally mumbles something, and it doesn't help the situation.
"So?"
"Well it's just kind of unusual, that's all…" It's unusual for me to be nice? Can't do anything right, can I? Point out someone's flaws and I'm suddenly a terrible person. Compliment them and it's weird.
"I don't have the energy to be mean anymore." I want to go back to bed. My head hurts and it's getting so bright out here. Stupid sun. Go away. Let's play a never-ending game of hide and seek.
"Then why do it?"
"Because that's who I am, okay? Are you done interrogating me?" I shove everything deep into my bag and untangle myself from the stupid blue table.
"That's the Jade I know."
"Shut up. You sound like a therapist."
"Even better."
"Stop talking to me."
…
It was a Friday when Tori stayed the night at my house for the first of many times. Typical Tori, she came over with her bag full to the top with these ancient books and magazines that she said were lying around the house. God only knows why her family still had them.
While I sliced up a banana – which had been making up half of my diet for nearly a week, by this point – to add to the peanut butter sandwich I was making myself at 9 o'clock at night, Tori yanked half of her library out of the hideous purple bag she'd been carrying around in place of her usual brown one that week and spread it out on the island counter top.
"So I asked my mom-"
"You told your mom?" I snapped, dropping my butter knife, which landed on my foot and left a bruise that didn't go away for two whole weeks.
"Nooo," She answered, rolling her eyes as I dropped down to retrieve the knife. "I told her it's for a research project for health class."
"You're not in health class."
"She doesn't know that." Tori tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and twisted the bar stool so that she was facing me when I returned from washing the knife off in the sink. "Anyway, she told me she still had books from her last pregnancy in the attic that I could use. They're from years ago, but pregnancy hasn't exactly changed recently, so I figured they could be helpful." I tried not to laugh at her, but it was too difficult. She was so invested in my life. It was like she was my own little personal assistant. I still don't know why she cared so much.
"Don't laugh! This is stuff you need to know, alright? You need to know what to expect, okay? You've got to be careful what you eat, what you touch… Like…" She looked down at the page of the book she'd randomly opened to. "Don't touch cat litter."
"I don't plan on it."
"Seriously though. Apparently cat litter carries this parasite that causes a disease called 'Toxoplasmosis'… which could result in a 'miscarriage, early delivery, or stillbirth', and it could cause 'eye health issues or mental disabilities' in your baby."
"Good to know. Do you have anything useful in that ancient encyclopedia?"
"Well…" She drug out the word as she flipped back to the table of contents. "Ummm…you're going on your seventh week…" She turned a large number of pages and ran her finger down to the bottom, "So you can expect 'food aversions, fatigue, frequent urination, nausea and vommitting, tenderness in your-' Actually, why don't I just leave this with you, and you can read it later."
"You know this is what the internet's for, right?"
"I'm just trying to be helpful." She pouted at me as she closed the book and pushed it away from her. "I don't know what else to do for you."
"Get me a time machine, go back to the night you helped me get back together with Beck, and don't let that happen."
"I thought you guys made up." We had, for the most part. I'd hardly woken up the morning following our fight when he showed up at my house with a breakfast pizza and a vocabulary consisting of nothing but the words sorry, huge, jerk, and forgive. I mostly just accepted his apology so he'd shut up and give me the pizza. We were on speaking terms again, but it wasn't much better than that quite yet.
"We did." I assured her. "But we wouldn't have had a problem at all if I'd just broken up with him a year ago."
"True." She agreed with me and leaned across the counter. "Do you have any popcorn? Why don't we watch a movie?"
"I don't think you'd like any of my movies." She frowned, nodded, and watched me eat my sandwich for a few seconds before speaking again. "Well, I think there's a marathon of CSI on tonight."
"Fair compromise." I agreed, as I began the search for some popcorn.
An hour later, we were both fast asleep under a giant pile of blankets in my bed, while CSI played quietly without anyone conscious enough to watch it.