by BL Mute
He finally closed the distance between us, scooped me up again, and walked into the bathroom. He helped me out of my shorts and bikini top, then wedged his shoulder under my arm to help me into the tub. The warm water stung my feet and sent jolts through my body. I bit down through the pain and sat down. I knew I smelled like the lake and my feet were pretty beat up, but my body didn’t want to go through the motions of bathing, and it didn’t have to.
Without missing a beat, James grabbed my loofah and soap and got to work softly scrubbing my body. He washed away all the indications of my first time, all the proof of how great my life had been just hours before, but I didn’t protest. He wiped away the blood and dirt from my feet with care, and then he rinsed my hair.
Once I was clean, I still didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just sat there hoping I would wake up from this terrible dream, but I never did.
James grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my body on the tub’s floor before lifting me again and taking me into my room. He dressed me and loved me in all those terrible moments.
With my clothes in place, he kissed my forehead before laying me down and slipping into the bed behind me. He stroked my hair and kissed my neck softly, telling me, “Everything will be okay.”
He didn’t leave like I thought he would. He stayed with me until I fell asleep.
I didn’t think sleep would come, but it did.
“You poor soul. Losing your dad on your birthday…” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t imagine.”
I sniff my nose and wipe the silent tears on my face. “Yeah. It was rough. I haven’t celebrated again since that day.”
She orders me another drink as the bartender comes out of the back, then turns to me. “You can’t stop living your life because his ended.” She smiles in a way a loving mother would. I just nod at her.
“Your friends and James seem like great people though. It’s nice to know there are still people like that in this world, who care,” she remarks.
“Well, I haven’t finished the story yet. Like I said—” I take a deep breath and release it. “—everyone changed.”
She tips her head to the side and studies me for a second. “They couldn’t have changed that drastically, right?” She takes a quick sip of her drink. “I mean, those are traits that don’t go away.”
I look at her sadly and remember everything I had put my friends through. “You’re right. It wasn’t so much them changing as it was me. I did some fucked-up shit to them, pushed them away, called them names. I did everything a good friend shouldn’t do.”
“Why?” she asked simply.
“I’m not sure.” I motion my hand to her pack of cigarettes, asking for another without words. She nods. “When I lost my dad, something just snapped. Like, a switch inside my brain flipped the next morning when I woke up. It turned off all emotions, rational thinking, and love.”
I light the cigarette and take a few drags, trying to find the right words. “Looking back on it now, I know it’s wrong and it was cruel, but at that point, my dad was everything to me. He was my rock, the only parent I had that I felt really cared about me. Losing him killed a piece of me inside.”
“I think we all feel that way when we lose someone important.”
“Yeah, but I took things too far…”
Everything was quiet the following morning when I woke up. I was hoping nothing was real, but when I looked down my body and saw the shorts and tank James put me in, I knew everything I thought was just a dream, was actually my new reality.
I rolled out of my bed and winced at the pain in my feet. My throat was sore too. I needed a drink. I walked to my door and turned the knob, taking only a second to inhale a deep breath, then walked out.
I found Peyton and James in my kitchen talking in hushed whispers around the island. I don’t think they knew I was there until I walked fully into the kitchen.
“Hey, Jupiter,” Peyton said, looking at me up and down.
“Hey,” I replied with no emotion.
“How’re you feeling?” she asked.
I looked at James and saw him studying me, then turned my head back to Peyton. “How do you think I feel? My dad is dead. He’s dead.”
I wanted to cry saying the words, but my body was tired, and my eyes were done crying.
“I…” She couldn’t even finish what she was going to say. She just plastered on a sad, fake smile to match her sad eyes, then replied, “I’ll make you some coffee.”
I just nodded at her. There was no need to say anything.
James walked over and stood beside me in the doorway before he finally spoke. “I’m always here for you, Jupiter. I know what you’re going through.”
“You lost your mom to cancer, James. You had warning; you knew it was coming. I didn’t.” I said it flatly and imminently regretted it.
He didn’t get a chance to reply. The sound of breaking glass pulled both of our heads to Peyton. She had dropped a cup. “Way to go,” I said.
She shook her head. “I get you’re hurting and sad and everything else, but that doesn’t mean be a dick to us. We are just here trying to help.” Her eyes got watery.
“Get out.” I pointed to the door.
“What?” she questioned.
“I said get out. I don’t want either of your pity, fake sympathy, or tears. I want to be alone, so get out.”
Her jaw almost hit the floor once the words were out, but she didn’t argue. “Fine.” She threw the broken glass into the trash can, then walked out.
James lingered by the island. “I said to get out, James.” I pointed to the door again.
“You don’t want me to leave,” he whispered.
“Yes.” I shifted on my feet, hoping it would help the pain in them. “Yes, I do.”
He walked toward me, and my heart sped up. He had already seen me so broken and raw; I didn’t want him to see any more.
He was right in front of me then, inches from my face. “No, you don’t.”
My throat squeezed and my heart raced. “Please,” I begged. “Go.”
He placed a soft kiss on my forehead, then leaned to my side. “I meant what I said.” He pulled back and ran his hand over his face. “I love you,” he said, then walked out reluctantly.
I was alone. I thought that was what I wanted, but honestly, I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to stop feeling. So, I did the only thing I knew could help with that.
I walked to the cabinet above the coffeepot and opened it. I felt around the top of the cabinet until my hand hit what I was looking for. I pulled the bottle of Baileys down and twisted the top off. My dad used to pour a little in his coffee on Christmas morning, so I did the same thing.
I filled a mug with coffee, then poured in a hefty amount of the liquor. I brought it to my lips and took a minute to smell it before I took a sip. The coffee smelled strong, but the liquor was sweet. I gulped down the whole cup, then made another.
I had never really been a drinker. Sure, I would have a few drinks at parties and stuff, but I never indulged otherwise. It wasn’t my thing—not until my dad died. I knew the feeling of being light and loose and not caring about a thing, so it was easy to long for it when I was in pain.
After my third cup, I realized the whole pain thing wasn’t so bad, and being alone never felt better. I drank until half of the bottle was gone.
I swirl my sixth whiskey sour in my glass, letting my thoughts overcome me.
“Did they come back?” the woman asks quietly.
I don’t want to answer her question. I don’t want her to see the one side of me I kept hidden from my real life, but what does that matter? This woman is a stranger. I don’t know her, and I won’t ever see her again after today.
“Let me go to the restroom, and I’ll try to finish the story.” I set my glass on the bar top and stand.
“Try? No, that won’t work for me. Since you’re here, I’m assuming there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I need t
o know what else happened.”
I let out a barking laugh. “You sure are pushy.”
She looks down. “Sorry, it’s a flaw. But you did say you wanted to tell your story.” She shrugs.
I shrug too. “Touché. We all have flaws.” I wink at her, then walk across the room and go into the bathroom.
I lean my back against the door after closing it and try to breathe.
In through your nose, out through your mouth. You got this, Jupiter, I tell myself.
I haven’t touched these emotions in years. Telling this stranger my story is stirring it all up. I’m reliving the pain, the mistakes, the heartache—all of it.
I take another deep breath and place my hand on my chest. My heart is beating fast, trying to escape. Another deep breath in through my nose and out of my mouth, and it calms some. I walk across the sticky bathroom floor to the sink that’s messy with splashes of water on the counters and drops of thick pink soap. I turn the rusty knob and cup my hands under the stream, then splash it onto my face.
You got this, Jupiter, I tell myself again.
I nod at my reflection in the mirror vigorously, trying to believe the words. My hair is a mess lying on my shoulders, mascara is staining under my eyes, and my nose is red from crying. I do the best I can to smudge the black lines away and blow my nose, then make my way back to the bar.
“You okay?” the woman asks as I approach.
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She stares at me for a moment, so I take the time to stare at her. She’s beautiful in an odd way. She has old eyes like a loving grandmother, but the face of someone my age. She gives me a small smile, then pats the stool next to her. I sit and after another deep breath, I continue.
It had been three weeks since my dad passed. We had a funeral and buried him.
After a week my mom was waking up and making breakfast, then rushing to work. Any excuse she could use to get out of the house, she was gone. She acted as though nothing ever happened, and it pissed me off. My dad was one of the best people in this miserable world. She claimed to love him more than anything, yet she only grieved, if you could even call it that, for a week. It was bullshit if you asked me.
Peyton would come by every day and check on me, but I would just push her away. Chance still seemed to be MIA, but I didn’t even care. One less person to worry about. And James… James turned from fun, easygoing, and loveable to concerned, quiet, and judgy. He never said he didn’t like me drinking, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face anytime he would kiss me and taste alcohol was enough to tell me he hated it. He wouldn’t even sleep with me, and that just made me mad. I wanted any release I could get from the pain.
I was due to graduate later that day, but I wasn’t excited like I should have been. My mom wanted me to walk just for a picture, to try and give outsiders the illusion everything was okay when it wasn’t, and I wanted to stay home just to spite her. Over those last few weeks, I grew to hate her more and more. She constantly tried to push me to talk when I didn’t want to and made me do pointless shit, saying it would make me feel better, but it never did.
“Jupiter, please pick one,” my mom begged, laying three dresses at the foot of my bed.
My room was a mess. Before, it had always been clean and tidy. My bed was always made up with my white comforter and fluffy purple pillows. I kept the delicate lace curtains open and always burned a lavender candle.
At this point, there were piles of clothes on the floor, I kept my curtains shut, and the whole room smelled like a beer can. My mom knew I drank but tried to ignore it. Like I said before, she never cared. My dad was the caring parent.
“I don’t even want to go.” I rolled onto my side away from her.
She let out a sigh. “Just indulge me, Jupiter. Please?”
I ignored her and closed my eyes.
I heard her heels click over the wooden floor in my room, then suddenly stop. Her hand reached out and touched my shoulder, trying to turn me toward her.
I turned and threw her hand off me. “Just stop.”
She lowered her head and smelled the air around me. “You’ve been drinking again.” She rolled her eyes.
I replied, ignoring her accusation even thought it was true. If I acknowledged it, it would do nothing but start a fight. “The blue one.” I pointed to the pile of dresses.
She shook her head before walking back to the foot of bed and grabbing the dresses. “Your father would be disappointed.”
I leaped from my bed and sprinted until I was in front of her, blocking the door. “Don’t you dare bring Dad into this,” I spat at her, trying to keep my tears at bay. She knew talking about my dad was a weak spot for me, but she always seemed to use it as a low blow. I was over it.
“I’m sick of the way you’ve been treating me, Jupiter.” She tried to step around me, but I shuffled, blocking her again.
She stared at me a moment, then shook her head again. “You know, I miss him too. I’m hurting too. I’m sad too.” Her lip quivered as she threw the dresses to the floor.
“Sad!” I laughed in her face. “Sad? Yeah, you’re so sad that it only took you a week to be back to your normal routine.” I knew I shouldn’t have said it, but I wanted her to hurt like I was hurting. I wanted everyone to hurt.
The anger within me was uncontainable. No matter what I told myself, it still came bubbling out without warning.
I wasn’t expecting what came next. Her hand came fast and connected with my cheek, sending jolts of pain radiating to the surface. Tears started streaming down her regret-filled face, and her chest started heaving.
I stroked my cheek and looked at her with wide, shocked eyes. Bringing my hand in front of me, I was expecting to see the pain resting there, like some ball I could physically hold, but it wasn’t there.
She stepped closer to me. “Jupiter, I—”
I cut her off. “Get out.” My voice was weak and low, but full of anger.
“Jupiter, please. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” She tried to reach for me, but I jerked away and opened my door.
She just stood there staring at me. I didn’t speak another word, just pointed out the door. With a whimper, she picked up the dresses and stepped out.
“I’m sorry, Jupiter. I’m so so so sorry.” She cried softly. I just closed the door in her face, then went to my bed and collapsed.
My mother was never one to shout or yell, and she sure as hell wasn’t one to hit, but I'd struck a chord with her—a deep one.
I curled into a ball and held myself. I had pushed away Peyton and James; I hadn’t even heard from Chance since that day, but I was sure that was because Peyton told him how I was acting, and now—now I’d hurt my mom. All those revelations should have hurt me, but they didn’t. I didn’t care that I was hurting everyone around me.
I didn’t like who I was becoming, but I didn’t know how to stop it either. My heart ached so much that it made me sick. It made me want to be swallowed up by the earth, never to be heard from again.
I did the only thing I knew would help at that point. I drank.
I drank until I was shitfaced drunk and went to walk the damn stage like my mother wanted.
I stumbled into the huge building the school rented for graduation and tried to remember my spot in line like rehearsal. Other students were already walking across the stage as the superintendent spoke their names into the microphone and the principal handed out diplomas.
I shoved my hat on in a hurry and stood in line, waiting.
“Jupiter Nicole Taylor.”
The crowd started to cheer as I swayed up the steps and onto the stage when my name was called. At the last minute, I glanced around and saw my mom sitting in a row alone with a stone face. James was amongst the other students who had already walked. I saw Peyton walk up to him and whisper in his ear. She seemed angry.
When I made it to the principal, I yanked my diploma from his hands, then walked to the podiu
m where the superintendent stood. When I squeezed my way in between him and the podium, he took a few steps back and raised a brow.
“Hey, Mom!” I yelled into the microphone. The crowd went silent. “Would Dad be proud now?” I laughed.
I tripped over my own feet when I leaned my head back to laugh but steadied myself by holding on to the podium. I looked down and saw my blue suede heels peeking out from my black graduation gown. The small ankle strap was undone on my left foot, just hanging loose.
When I looked back up, I saw James pushing through the line of students who had already received their diploma. I was getting to see another side of James I hadn’t at that point—the angry one.
His jaw flexed and released over and over, and his eyes stayed low as he stomped up the steps of the stage.
“Oh, hey, babe!” I couldn’t believe I just called him that. I wasn’t even sure we were a couple anymore. Our time didn’t consist of anything other than him playing babysitter to me and holding my hair as I puked for weeks now.
He shook his head and stared at me. The irritation shined bright in his eyes, and it made me laugh. Maybe going to my graduation drunk wasn’t the best idea, but I really didn’t care. Any chance I had gotten to push my mom away or piss her off made me happy. I was really turning into a black-souled bitch.
James crouched down and threw me over his shoulder. The head rush I got made me want to puke, but I swallowed it down. It would have reminded me of a happier time, a good time, like our day at the lake, but it didn’t. Truth was, I was completely gone and never planned to come back. I loved being numb too much and not having to worry about anyone else.
James walked with fast-paced vigor, and I didn’t even try to protest. My left shoe slipped off my foot, and he just kept walking. I lay over his shoulder and let giggles spill out of my mouth. Everything at this point seemed like a horrible movie—a movie I couldn’t believe was my life. It became hilarious because everything was just so unreal. My dad being gone, the way I was acting—all of it was incomparable.
