by Lya Lively
“Oh,” I said only half-heartedly paying attention, half watching Noah walk out the door and wanting desperately to follow him. Did Drew just say he likes me? “Wait, what?”
“Will you be my girlfriend?” Shit.
“I – I don’t know,” I said uncomfortably pulling my hands out of his to push loose strands of hair away from my face. “I just need some time to, to think about it, you know?” I didn’t want to let him down, but his face already dropped with disappointment.
“Yeah, I get it.” He said solemnly through a forced smile.
I raised a hand up to caress his cheek, leaning in to kiss the other side of his face. “I’ll think about it,” I said when I pulled back and smiled.
Finally, we grabbed our drinks off of the counter behind us and made our way back to the table, “What happened?” I asked, but nobody had an answer. They all just said he snapped, and Chloe was crying, which would’ve made me happy ten minutes ago, but now it just made me feel bad. I mean, talk about dramatic. “Are you okay Chloe?” I asked sincerely. Everyone looked at me in shock. That’s right; Hayden Ann Harlow is the bigger person here. Get some.
“Okay, okay. It’s okay.” I cooed. I grabbed the napkin from my spot and used it to clean some of the mascara running down her cheeks. I asked Kara to come with me to take her to the bathroom and get her cleaned up.
I grabbed my Venti-Vanilla Bean Frappuccino off the table and held it uncomfortably on the way to the bathroom.
They explained that Chloe and Noah broke up again and he just left. That was it. “Uhh, weren’t you guys already... you know—separated?” I asked curiously.
She paused, staring at me. “I mean, yeah. But it wasn’t official.” She claimed with irritation over-taking the sadness in her tone.
After she was finally content she awkwardly thanked us and we all started going our separate ways. I wanted to hold off going back to the apartment with Noah as long as possible, but I had to leave eventually.
Drew took me back to my room; Cam and Kara lived on different floors entirely, so it was just the two of us. When we finally got to my door, he tried to kiss me, but I moved my head, so he only kissed my forehead and pretended it was accidental. I apologized and kissed him “Goodnight,” on the cheek.
“C’mon, Hayden.” He sighed throwing his hands down disappointedly. “I need to know.” I watched him wildly, not understanding the severity of the situation as it was apparent to him. “Look, I need to know, is there anything between us, or do I need just to give up now?” He asked heartbrokenly. You should give up; I thought before he sighed. “I’m sorry,” He said holding my hands again, only this time it wasn’t as forced and nervous. Instead, it was more familiar and determined. “I just really do care about you, Hayden, but every time I try to get close to you – you,”
“I push you away,” I said finishing his statement.
“Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “Look, I’m not going to try and rush you into anything you’re not ready for,” he assured me. “I just want you to know that I’m there for you, but first you’ve gotta let me in.” His voice was pleading, and as he kissed my forehead and told me goodnight before walking off down the hallway my heart pounded.
Naturally, I did what any girl would do when faced with a guy she felt might be able to care for her and he starts slipping away. I watched him just about to slip through my fingers, and then last second, “Drew, wait!” I called out to him.
He turned around slowly to face me, his expression becoming hopeful. I shook my head, “I’m not ready for this,” I said slowly. “But I’m willing to try.”
A smile formed across his lips, his brown eyes lighting up gently. “Me too.”
***
Before I completely made it through the apartment door, he slipped me his phone number, which I thought was a waste of time considering I didn’t have nor plan to have a phone, but I took it anyway.
I gently closed the door behind me, biting my lip anxiously as I tried not to disturb Noah. It seemed like everything was just becoming a roller coaster I couldn’t control. Life was becoming confusing, complicated, and I didn’t like it one bit. But at least I was distracted...
I was shocked to see Noah sitting calmly on the sofa watching TV when I turned around. Not that it was weird seeing a guy watching TV, but that it surprised me is all. It was the concept of thinking about someone and then having them appear seemingly out of nowhere that gave an odd feeling.
I went over, against all of my better judgment, and sat next to him. “So,” I started, pretending I was even slightly interested in what was playing on the screen.
“So,” he said repeating me. We both just sat there waiting for a few minutes before either of us said anything else. “I called Chloe; our strobe light is ‘officially’ back on.” It was meant to be a light-hearted attempt at a joke, but neither of us seemed in any kind of mood to laugh.
“Oh,” I said, painfully submerging disappointment. “Well, she is pretty, and I guess if she makes you happy...”
He looked at me now, his expression serious and thoughtful like he was finally seeing me for the first time and I was a stimulating object that sparked question and imagination. I knew she didn’t make him happy; but he didn’t deny it, so I didn’t call him out. “Yeah...” He turned back to the TV, guiding the channels with the remote limply beside him.
“So, why did you leave early?” I pressed, secretly hoping it would be something about me, but I was disappointed.
“You know,” he shrugged, “she and I hadn’t seen each other in a while, and it was just stressful and surprising.”
“Ah.”
“Oh, and I’m sorry about the whole, you know... You and her...” He tried saying it without actually saying it.
“No, it’s fine. I should actually be thanking her. It’s kind of the reason Drew and I have a thing now, so.”
I watched carefully, but his expression remained unbothered. “Well,” he started slowly. “He is pretty, and I guess if he makes you happy...” At first, I was confused, but then he looked at me and smiled. Then I didn’t need to understand, I just laughed.
He looked away and started pulling fuzzies off of the sofa cushion, still smiling lightly to himself. I pushed myself up to make my way toward my bedroom, taking that as a silent goodbye; but instead, I stopped suddenly and turned to face him, my hands still pressed firmly into the sofa cushion. “She was right about one thing,” I told him, causing him to cock his head to the side like a puppy, revealing the burn on his neck.
“You can do so much better,” and then I quickly rose to get to my room, intentionally avoiding his reaction expression. “Night,” I whispered quickly before disappearing behind my bedroom door.
***
I waited, leaning with my back against the wood; part of me secretly wanted him to do something, anything. Instead, without so much as a response to “Night,” I sat down on the floor and locked the door. I brought my legs to my chest, pressed my lips against my knee and felt the sick twisting in my stomach and chest and let it envelop me.
At that moment, I wasn’t sure if kissing him would be more like Heaven or Hell, but it sure felt like it could be both.
It felt like the weight of everything had finally toppled onto me: I missed Punchy, I wanted my parents to be alive, and I wanted Noah to like me. At least, that’s what I thought I wanted. Wasn’t it? I grabbed my guitar by the neck and slid it toward me, slowly making sure not to bump it off of anything. Or did I just not want to be alone?
I started strumming random chords in succession until I found the right ones I thought sounded nice together. I was going to grab my notebook, but suddenly I found myself unbearably weak and unmotivated, so instead I just strummed. At first, I hummed aimlessly, I closed my eyes and pleaded for the treacherous memories to devour me and take me away from this, from everything. I craved distance, sanctum, and oblivion.
The past consumed me, the present wrecked me, and the future terrified me.
I filled the space I occupied with tears and self-loathing, as I continued to strum mindlessly. The strumming mixed with my disastrous thoughts were enough to distance me from the silence, which scared me more than anything else. More than I wanted companionship, I needed distance. I feared, it would be the only thing left that could save me.
“Yet the frantic abolition of all distances brings no nearness; for nearness does not consist in shortness of distance. What is least remote from us in point of distance, by virtue of its picture on film or its sound on the radio, can remain far from us. What is incalculably far from us in point of distance can be near to us. Short distance is not in itself nearness. Nor is great distance remoteness.” – “The Thing” by Martin Heidegger
NINETEEN
Hayden
I trudged out of my bedroom, my neck still stiff from accidentally falling asleep on the floor. I took each cautious step silently praying I wouldn’t run into him. Realistically, to him, everything should be fine and dandy because he is the one who has a girlfriend and shouldn’t have to worry about the ‘crazy girl who got too attracted when he kissed her’ because she has someone now too.
I knew, though, that the second he’d look into my eyes, all doubt would be lost.
Judging by the silence, and lack of movement in the rest of the apartment, it was safe to say that I was alone. As I always was.
I took a deep breath and walked barefoot over to the kitchen, the cool tiles beneath the soles of my feet felt like freedom, and yet there was something discomforting about being in the seemingly shrinking space alone. It almost felt like I wasn’t.
I glanced around the tight space questioningly, and then returned to getting a snack. There’s no point in being paranoid, I thought dubiously to myself. I quickly snatched a pack of gushers out of the cabinet nearby and proceeded to make my retreat back to my own personal shelter when the front door to the apartment started unlocking.
I panicked; my heart began racing and goose bumps formed along my arms and legs. It’s Noah; I thought fearfully, he’s going to see me! I searched hurriedly for a place to run to, for a place to hide, but it was too late. The door was already opening, and I had no chance, so instead I just stood there staring blankly at the door, regretting myself ever giving in to the simple basic human need that is hunger.
So I was, of course, surprised when I saw it wasn’t Noah coming in at all, nor was it Cameron or Kara.
“You?” She asked with a tone of both confusion and superiority. Her blonde hair was wrapped up in a scarf, bright green eyes framed by lashed drowning heavily in mascara. Her waist was tight and small, slim figure delicate and taunting.
“Chloe,” I said hesitantly. The longer we both stood there in confusion, the more uncomfortable I felt about what I was wearing. I had on cupcake pajama shorts and a thin tank top. It was moments like these I wished I was wearing socks. I just really didn’t like my feet. “What’re you doing here?” I asked finally.
“Oh, well I am Noah’s girlfriend,” she stated authoritatively. Unfortunately, I accepted sadly. Did I expect he’d lie to me? “So, who are you?” She asked again, apparently wanting my occupation.
My mind raced, apparently just someone who kissed your boyfriend. “I live here,” I said instead.
She just crossed her arms, waiting for me to elaborate, so I didn’t. My mom always used to do the same thing; it sickens me. “What do you mean you ‘live here,'” she asked finally, her green eyes bulging slightly behind her thick mascara.
“I mean, I rent out a room here and don’t die,” still too soon, a little unsympathetic if I might also add.
Finally, she uncrossed her arms and looked at me a little helplessly, “You can’t live here,” she stated, but there was a slight affliction in her voice that almost made it sound more like a question.
"And why not," I asked with a genuine curiosity, desperately wishing I hadn’t left my room.
She threw her hands back down by her sides, “So are you two like a thing now?”
Wait, I thought, so are they dating? “Um, what? No...” My heart seemed to stop for a moment, his gray eyes staring thoughtfully into mine as he kissed my lips...
“But you like him?” Her expression remained unchanged.
“Why would I?” Could it be because his eyes are like the dark coal that ignites the flames in my chest? But no, it was because he kissed me that night and I wish, every time I see him, I had the courage to do it again. I was panicking; my heart continued to pound hilariously as my nervousness overtook me in a whirlwind of fear and emotion. But he doesn’t feel the same way.
She seemingly noticed how bothered I was by the topic, and to my growing discomfort, acted upon it.
She made slow, cat-like movements toward me, an evil smirk creeping across her face as if she knew what she was about to say would destroy me. But in all of my innocence, I didn’t question her intentions, and let her. “So, you don’t think his dark, messy hair is even the least bit attractive?” She asked dumbly.
“I’m renting a room here, Chloe; nothing more, nothing less,” I said strongly, watching her make her way casually over to my room and open the door. I followed curiously behind her.
“And, you don’t find his gray, full eyes the least bit charming and mysterious?” She asked coolly as if she knew exactly what she was doing while she made her way over to my guitar and twisted her face up in disgust.
“Roommate,” I repeated, watching her carefully.
She picked up the guitar delicately between her thin fingers, raising it up and strumming the strings lightly. “So,” she tilted her head slightly, “you mean to say you’ve never wondered what it would be like to kiss him?”
This time my heart felt as if it had exploded, all of the air had escaped from my body. And then I just smirked, “Why wonder?” I asked casually, “I already have.” The moment I thought it I knew it shouldn’t be said, the moment I said it I instantly regretted it being thought. But somehow, it just felt like the right thing. However, I was undeniably, unbearably wrong.
At that moment, her face twisted horribly into a mix of desperate, fearful, angry expressions I could particularly decipher. She held my guitar tightly by its neck and brought it down heavily onto the sharp edge of the wooden bed frame. I watched in horror as the back busted slightly, while she continued to raise it above her and repetitively smash it, watching my dismay with bitter amusement. After a few more hits a small, crumpled brown bag fell out of the base of the guitar.
I could feel my entire body trembling, my legs falling weak beneath me causing my arms to flail a little for something to hold myself up.
Her eyes widened with curiosity and delight; we must’ve both had the same look in our eyes, the look that we both wanted to run at the bag and grab it as quickly as possible before the other person. Lucky for her, I stood frozen in fear. What if this gets out? What if she tells Noah? The thought spun around fearfully in my head. What would he think of me then?
“Is this...” she stared, eyeing the crumpled bag gripped tightly in her hands as she studied the outside, almost seeming as if she preferred the curiosity rather than opening it to find out. “Is this.. drugs?” She asked with an almost sudden spurt of excitement, pulling the bag toward her chest quickly as if I was going to try and snatch it from her and that would stop me.
“What,” I asked quietly, my face still flushed with my fear continuously growing while I continued to imagine false scenarios of what they would assume of me. “No, of course not...” I shook my head lightly.
The anticipation built as she slowly peeled open the wrinkled bag, “OH, ho-ho!” she laughed as she looked into the bag. “Wow,” she mumbled to herself as she reached her hand in and pulled out a roll of cash, “this is great.”
I wanted to reach out for it and take it from her, I wanted to snatch it directly out of her hands and run in the other direction, but instead I just stood there watching helplessly. And then I remembered where I recognized
this familiar pain.
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life,” I read carefully, feeling the words beneath my thumb as it stroked the page, “is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”
“So, what? Did you steal this?” she asked looking at me, finally.
I took a step back, appalled. “I earned it,” I stated simply.
“Then why were you hiding it?”
I squinted at her all-knowing, smiling face. She is really pretty, I thought bitterly, no wonder he’s with her. “I was traveling; I didn’t want it to get stolen.”
“Hm,” she said thinking, seeming to accept this. “Know what,” she started and then left hanging blankly.
“What?” I asked, growing increasingly irritated with her dumb little games.
“Which one of us do you think Noah would believe?” She asked, refusing to look up at me, instead staring at the money.
I could feel the blood rushing out of my face, my skin going disgustingly pale. “Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered, eyeing the money and thinking desperately of ways to grab it from her and run.
“Well, let’s just say I found out you were selling drugs and lying to him this whole time...” She said smoothly, smiling up at me to check my horrid expression.
I wanted to roll my eyes and say, “That’s ridiculous, he would never believe that,” but would he? He did already accuse me of doing drugs, and we haven’t known each other very long, and if he still doesn’t want anything to do with me... “Please don’t,” I pleaded instead.
Now she was grinning, her small teeth showing proudly behind her clear lip gloss. She shrugged, “Well, I mean, I don’t have to...”
I felt pathetic, weak. There was no reason for me to feel like she’s in any way stronger than or above me. Ever. But, oh God, I did.
“What do you want?” I asked angrily, finished hiding it.
She started walking toward me slowly, the word “PUNCHY” written in large sloppy letters showing on the bag from behind her fingers. It was the money I started saving the day mom took him off to the shelter; I was going to buy him back before we moved. I was going to save him, save me. It seems both of us are nothing more than a dead memory now, unfortunately. “Leave.” She said in a harsh tone, her expression fading to clear anger and determination. She slammed the bag into my chest, causing me to stumble backward.
