Depressingly enough, the story I have to tell starts with my
hanging out my second story apartment window at 1:30 in the morning in only
purple panties with about 50 drunk college students staring up at me and one
sorority girl angrily stomping the cigarette I'd dropped into her fancy hair
do. Perhaps I should back up about five minutes. I had been lying in bed
reading before going to sleep, angsting about males
and trying desperately to pay attention to the book that had just arrived from
Amazon. My love life was in the toilet and that usually translates to my
becoming the chain smoker from hell. Story of my life.
So I pulled the blanket up over my breasts, opened the window over my bed, and
began angsting even worse than before, only armed
with a cigarette. My boyfriend and I had just broken up, five days shy of our
six month, long story there, and I was just now realizing how incredibly much I
loved him and hated his wife. Even longer story there.
Anyway, in a wondrous feat of suicide and stupidity, I fell and found myself
suddenly being catcalled by a bunch of idiots who didn't seem to comprehend
that I wasn't really hot and wild about falling to almost certain broken ankle
right about now. Though in hanging there I did realize that I had many more embarrassing
situations to look forward to in the future thus had
no reason to fall half naked out of windows.
No sooner had I hauled myself back inside (more whistles as I wiggled my out of
shape self back to safety) was there a knock at my door. I wanted to ignore it
with every fiber of my being but I've always been a glutton for punishment so I
threw on a T-Shirt and answered it. And seeing Charles standing there really
made my day. He's always been such a beautiful specimen of a man, tonight
dressed in his normal polo shirt and shorts but I was less than inclined to
allow my breath to catch in my throat. Even if his presence was armed with the
memories of how it felt to be on the screaming end of being pounded into my
mattress.
“How long have you been here?” I asked, hoping to God he'd missed my performance so I wouldn't have to explain how much breaking up with him was affecting my psyche.
“Hi,” he said, “About 20 minutes. I was just going to leave but it seems the idiots down on the street have decided its time for another riot. Any idea what happened?”
“Oh nothing,” I lied, “I just dropped my cigarette on some girl on accident. Her friends seemed to find it hilarious.”
“You're adorable,” He smiled and leaned in to kiss me. I turned away. “I brought you these,” He explained, unfazed, and held out a blue vase filled with daffodils. Bastard, remembering my favorite flower. But the worst part of the whole thing was definitely the vase.
“I have about ten of those,” I told him, scowling at the vase even though I only had three.
“Yeah,” Charles said with a laugh, “Kristen and I have about thirty left over from... left over.”
“From your wedding?”
“Yeah, our wedding,” and for the first time his face fell a millimeter for a split second. Points for me. I don't mean to sound like a bitter bitch but I really felt like one. The whole situation was really my fault. I knew everything going in but took the ever so classic woman's role of believing she can fix everything. The problem presented itself when Kristen caught up with my while I was helping out my niece’s soccer team and asked: “Are you dating my husband?” in the same tone any normal woman would ask “Are you sleeping with my husband?” Of course she knew I was sleeping with him and for a second I was almost put off. “Yeah,” I told her, “I guess we are getting fairly couply.” “Well, I don't want you to be doing that.” And she walked off. And to make matters even worse when I opened my mouth to tell Charles “Kristen wants us to break up,” what came out was “I think we should break up.” Freudian slip is all I can guess. I didn't even try to correct myself, sometimes I am just so ruled by my better judgment.
“Lindsey called me today,” Charles continued.
“How is he?” I asked.
“He's moving back into town,” He ignored me, “Needs a place to stay until he can find an apartment.”
“Is that so?”
“Funny thing is, he didn't even mention staying with Kristen and I in the guest room, just immediately asked if I knew if you had room.”
“Oh,” I said, “Maybe you two are growing apart.”
“He's my best friend, Liz,” I'd heard that a million times about a million people, “We aren't growing apart.”
I said nothing, which was apparently the wrong thing to do because Charles simply puffed himself up and attempted to stare me down.
“I told him he was welcome to the spare bedroom,” He said once he'd realized I wasn't budging.
“If he calls again, tell him I have plenty of room and he wouldn't have to sleep alone,” I snapped. Charles glared again then his whole face softened.
“I'm acting like a jealous ass, aren't I?” He asked.
“You do a good impression of one.”
“I'll pass the message on if I talk to Lin first,” Charles told me and, with a kiss on the cheek, he left. I wanted to slam the door behind him to show exactly what I thought of his antics but it would have been childish. All in all, it was a normal conversation between Charles and I, save for my being confrontational and it not ending in our having a quick fuck. Even his anger was a manifestation of the annoyance he normally felt towards me and my behavior. Good ole, Liz, trying to have casual sex with a guy who gets attached at the drop of a pin. Again. I was tempted to call Lindsey and tell him my couch was always open, just to make sure he didn't think I was interested in a relationship but it would really irk Charles to have to proposition his friend on my behalf. I was feeling petty.
Over the last few months I've completely stopped eating lunch. I found that I much preferred spending my hour off work at my favorite coffee shop fortifying myself with enough caffeine to get me through the rest of the day. Two espresso shots and a cup of coffee later and I tend to be ready to stumble back to work and deal with idiots who can't find their own asses let alone the giant display that happily announces it's holding this months best sellers.
“What time is it?” A guy asked as I sipped my coffee.
“
“Thank you,” pause, “Are the scones here any good?”
“I've never had one.”
“Ok,” pause, “Do you know who paints these pictures?”
“Do you want something?” I demanded.
“No,” pause, “My names Christian.”
“Good for you,” I snapped, scowling at his outstretched hand.
“You come here a lot,” Christian said, not asked.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Sorry I'm not better at this,” he said, “I just got divorced so I'm a little out of practice.”
“I'm sure hitting on girls half your age at coffee houses went over fabulously with your wife.” That shut him up, thank God. The last thing I needed was to get stuck talking to some conversation reject. What I did need was to figure out how to keep Lindsey from deciding I was his girlfriend. Why do males seem completely unable to separate sex and love?
Don’t get me wrong, I like Lindsey, I like him a lot. But I had sworn a long time ago that Charles would be my last boyfriend for a while. I didn’t expect us to last forever, quite the contrary in fact, but I knew that needed to be single for a while. Needed to try being a single woman for a little while. I can’t even remember the last time I was single for a significant amount of time. Yeah, I know, world’s smallest violin playing just for me. If circumstances were different I would be ecstatic that Lindsey was interested in me, he’s wonderful, only a tad psycho obsessive. Maybe a little more than a tad.
“I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot,” Christian piped up.
“I don’t think we’re on any foot,” I told him, increasingly annoyed at being interrupted from my thoughts.
“I’m Christian.”
“You said that.”
“I know, I was just hoping that this time you’d return with your name.” I scowled at him, why couldn’t this guy take a hint? Why was he still talking to me?
“Caroline,” I lied, “My name is Caroline.”
“Your name tag says Liz,” he pointed out. I scowled harder.
“Yeah,” I said, having no idea how to smooth this over, “I lied.”
“Should I take that as a hint to leave you alone?”
“I was hoping you would.”
“I’m not going to,” he told me. He was straight up, that annoyed me even more. I was actually surprised that his pointed ignorance of my annoyance wasn’t annoying me further; then again, I’m irrational like that. “My wife tried that tactic as well,” he continued.
“And look how wonderfully that turned out.”
“Touché,” he said with a laugh.
“I have to get back to work.”
“We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow, then.”
“I’d really rather if we didn’t.”
“Tomorrow, Liz.”
I couldn’t think of a time I was more furious. I wanted to yell at him, scream a little, throw one of my patented temper tantrums but I couldn’t make words come out. I couldn’t make anything come out. So I stormed away to save face. Save face, yeah right.
I ended up spending the rest of the day thinking up nasty things to say to this Christian fellow, and, when that got exhausted, I switched to insulting Charles and Lindsey, which was nearly as satisfying. By the end of the day I was trying out some of my favorite quips on customers until my boss told me to stop. For the first time in a long time I was almost jovial for my last couple hours. In fact, except for purposefully insulting the customers I was actually on my best behavior in years. I guess that tells you something about me. Well, me and my personality.
That same good mood even held over to after work when my cell phone randomly rang. I didn’t bother checking who it was, I couldn’t think of anyone that I particularly didn’t want to talk to. Even Lindsey’s puppy-dog hello didn’t slow me down.
“Hey, Lin,” I said, “what’s up?”
“You sound like you’re in a good mood,” he observed.
“I am.”
“That’s wonderful. I just got off the phone with Charles.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. If he had told Lindsey something different than my message I was flying blind. Of course, if he hadn’t, I’d be just as, if not more, at a loss for words. “How is he?” Is what I settled on.
“He seems okay.”
“What do you mean ‘seems’?” I asked, not really caring.
“Do you really care?”
“Not really.”
“Oh,” Lindsey said, “well he told me you had a message for me. He forgot it so he just gave me your number, which I had lost.”
I wanted to laugh out loud. Charles could be so smart sometimes. He had forgotten? I didn’t believe that for a second but it was a wonderful way to get out of telling Lindsey something possibly threatening to him. Then again, Lindsey wasn’t stupid either. Charles might have told him exactly what I’d said, word for word, and Lindsey was just testing me to see if I’d admit to saying it. I like it so much more when people are stupid enough to be simple. Not to mention I didn’t believe for a moment that Lindsey had lost my phone number.
“Basically,” I started, wasting words so I wouldn’t sound like I was thinking about what to say, “You can stay with me if you want.”
“Bed or couch?”
“Whatever.” He could choose what that would meant. Surprisingly he let it slide.
“I’m actually running a little late,” he explained, “So I won’t be leaving here until tomorrow. I’ll get there around 6 maybe.”
“Coolness. I’ll leave the key under the mat if I decide to go out.”
“Since when do you have a mat? You live in an apartment.”
“You know what I mean,” I teased right back, not pointing out that many apartments do have doormats.
“In other words, if my knock isn’t answered I should let myself in?”
“Yep.”
“Sounds good, I’ll see you later then.” And he hung up. In all the months of knowing Lindsey I’d only talked to him on the phone two or three times and he hadn’t said goodbye once. Must be a thing. Then again Lindsey is the only male I know to drive a zippy little car and have a significant sized penis. And he didn’t try and pick up girls with his pointless car. He’s allowed to have a few quirks.
I was impressed to still be in a good mood after that conversation. I shouldn’t have been, unlike most males who seem to only rouse lust or annoyance, Lindsey has always had a knack for bringing a smile to my face. Save for his obsessiveness, Lindsey wouldn’t make a bad boyfriend, he’s good at putting a spring in my step. And that fact alone immediately takes it away. I like being a sullen and cynical bitch, it bothers me when I find myself acting otherwise. And usually, I get off on telling people exactly what I dislike about them, however ‘you make me happy’ might be a fault to me but would probably make Lindsey court me harder. Best to keep that insult to myself.
The biggest surprise of all was when I woke up the next morning still in a good mood. Christian’s promise to annoy me later didn’t reenter until my lunch break came. I wound up just bribing someone to go get my required coffee for me. Finding that someone wasn’t very difficult, being feared always has its pluses.
“No coffee for you today?” a voice asked and I looked up from my inventory sheet to see Christian grinning at me from across the counter.
“I got busy,” I lied.
“Well, I did say we’d continue out conversation today.”
“I’m working, so you’re going to have to leave me alone.”
“I don’t think so,” he said cheerfully, “I don’t think I’m going to leave until you agree to have dinner with me tonight. You see, I’m a man of my word and I don’t admit defeat until I’ve exhausted all my chances of keeping it.”
“You’re going to have to because I’m busy tonight.”
“Busy like you were earlier?”
“No, that was a lie, I mean actually busy.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay, a, pretty perpetually busy, b, not interested, please leave me alone.” I was almost positive he wouldn’t but I had this crazy notion that if I told him to enough it might break his spirit and he’d do it. I’ve always been idealistic.
“No,” he said, I wasn’t impressed, “but I will give you time to think it over.”
“In other words, nothing short of breaking your collarbone will make you take a hint.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got a break, let’s step outside.” He obviously thought I was kidding because that stupid grin of his just got a little bigger. It wasn’t until I came out from behind the counter and motioned to the door did it dawn on him that I was a much bigger bitch than he could chew. This realization came in the form of his smile faltering ever so slightly.
“Perhaps another time,” he said. This guy obviously didn’t suffer from my inability to say anything when nothing witty came to mind.
“For beating you around some? I’m sure there will be many more opportunities,” I told him cheerfully. Again he seemed to find humor where I was dead serious. He simply smiled and gave me a gentle wave.
“Until then then.” And finally left. I was never so grateful to see someone escape the reach of my insult slinging. Until I realized that I hadn’t used any of my carefully planned zings. Curses. Next time I’d be prepared. I only say ‘next time’ because this Christian seemed to be exhibiting a good many of the characteristics of a stalker. You know obsession, disillusionment, annoyingness… I could probably sic Lindsey on him, after all, he was the only one allowed to pine after me like a love sick puppy. And he, of course, did it best. I usually let him; if I ever started finding it cute I’d know it was very much time to put myself out of my misery. It was like the ultimate gauge of my psyche. And, according to it, I was still very much sane. Than again, maybe any test that declares me sane has some major flaws in its design.
I was actually home when Lindsey knocked on the door. I didn’t answer it, it was either Lindsey, and he’d let himself in, or Christian had followed me home and was trying to catch me in another lie, and he could go to hell. I could imagine him being that crazy. I was relieved that it was Lindsey but damn sure not to show it, not even looking up from my book as he entered. And he didn’t say anything to me. He came in, shutting the door behind him, and came right over to me, leaning in for a kiss that pushed my book into my chest. I thought about pulling away or pushing him back just to mess with him but I didn’t, just didn’t kiss back, to make sure he didn’t think I was happy to see him, which I was. But he didn’t mind, maybe he had just gotten too familiar with my games. Or he was playing one of his own. Lindsey has always been good at testing his limits, doing exactly what he wants and trusting the other to tell him when to stop. Never one for ‘can I kiss you?’ or ‘is this alright?’ those lines have always annoyed me.
“I’ve missed you,” he said finally as we lay panting under a thin sheet on my bed.
“It’s nice to see you too,” I respond and began laughing. It felt good to laugh. Felt good to let my amusement and glee float through the fuzz of my afterglow. After a second he started laughing too. I knew he was probably laughing at me but I find it damn near impossible to be mad at Lindsey.
“What did you first think of me?” I asked, running my fingers through the sporadic wisps of hair across Lindsey’s chest.
“The first time we met or the first time we talked?” He was right, they were totally different times. I couldn’t really remember when we’d first met but I knew it had been months before the latter. Quite possibly more. But I remembered our first conversation perfectly. Charles and I had only been dating two or three months at the time which means it wasn’t that long ago. Malcolm was throwing his last party before moving and that put me into a pretty solid depression. I liked Malcolm; the two of us had been sleeping together for over a year at the time and when I’d heard his work was transferring him away I felt like I was losing my best friend. Everyone was trying to do their best to make me feel better but when they realized they were failing miserably they opted instead to just leave me alone. Except to keep me well stocked with alcohol. By the end of the night I was quite drunk and Lindsey was nice enough to give me a ride home. How he got stuck with that job I have no idea, I’m a bit fuzzy about most of the night, as I said, I was definitely drunk.
I woke up the next morning with a huge hangover and Lindsey puttering around my kitchen making some concoction he swore would make me feel better. It tasted like crap but did help my head. He reintroduced himself, of which I was grateful, and we wound up chatting for several hours. He swears nothing happened between us the night before. I trust him to tell me the truth as well as not take advantage of me, but I don’t really trust me. Especially me drunk.
“The first time we met,” I told him, wondering if he even remembered it.
“I didn’t think much of anything at all,” he admitted, “I thought you were Malcolm’s latest fling and I don’t usually give them much mind. What about me?”
“What did I think of you when we first met?”
“Yeah?”
“Hell, Lin, I don’t even remember you before you forced that vile hangover crap of yours down my throat!”
“I don’t know what to make of that,” he admitted. And that was that. Lindsey and I are both good at telling when a conversation is over and nothing else needs to be said. The best part is that it tends to be at the same point. There’s many a reason Lindsey and I get along so well, he’s me, only with a good attitude. Sometimes it’s really nice. Other times I don’t even notice.
Lindsey joined me at the coffee shop the next day. I had hoped that maybe being there with a guy would discourage Christian from bothering me. And if that failed maybe Lindsey’s anti-angst field would kick in and protect me too. But neither worked and I was, unfortunately, subjected to my junior-stalker again. I was planning on telling him off but Lindsey’s friendly nature kicked in before my antisocial one and he invited my “friend” to join us at our table. I even debated hanging all over Lindsey in hopes that Christian might get the wrong idea but that had far too many opportunities to blow up in my face. I opted instead for being sweet as pie to one and pointedly ignoring the other. Three guesses which boy got which.
“Do you live around here?” Lindsey was asking.
“Yeah,” Christian told him, “I have an apartment off main street.”
“Thistle Grove?”
“No, Ken’s Corner.”
“Those are nice apartments,” Lindsey agreed, “I’ve looked at a few places there.”
“You’re looking for an apartment?”
“Yeah, I’m moving back into town.”
“How do you know Liz if you don’t live here then?” Christian fished.
“I’m friends with her boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I interrupted and then immediately regretted it, it might have gotten Christian off my back if he thought I was taken.
“I’m not talking about Malcolm,” Lindsey explained, “I meant Charles.”
“I know, Charles isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Since when?”
“Since about a week ago,” I told him.
“So you’re single?” Christian asked.
“Happily so,” I snapped.
“What happened?” Lindsey asked, “You two were doing so great.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I sighed and checked my watch. “I have to get back to work,” I announced and made a point to give Lindsey a long kiss on my way out the door.
“I found a place,” Lindsey told me at dinner that night. I was impressed.
“I’m impressed.”
“Yeah,” he continued, “Your friend Christian offered me his extra room. Turns out his wife just left him and took their son so he’s got space.”
“He’s not my friend,” I corrected. Then what he’d said sunk in. “You’re going to be living with Christian?”
“Sure. Finding a place in this town is hard, I’m really lucky you introduced me to such a nice guy.”
“He’s not a nice guy,” I argued.
“Nonsense, you hate everyone,” Lindsey dismissed.
“He’s stalking me, Lin.”
“You think everyone is stalking you.”
“No, I don’t!”
“What about that
“I overreact once and suddenly I’m delusional?”
“He’s a nice guy, Liz, you’re just a master at overreaction.”
“I’m not overreacting! He showed up at my work!” Admittedly I didn’t really think Christian was stalking me yet, I’d only said it initially to get Lindsey’s attention but it pissed me off to be dismissed as paranoid.
“You work in a bookstore, lot’s of people show up at your work. It’s expected.”
“So after one conversation you’re willing to believe he’s some great and grand human being?” I snapped.
“And how many times have you talked to him?”
“Twice before today, but that’s not the point…”
“So after two conversations you’re convinced he’s a psycho?” Lindsey pointed out, he did have a point.
“That’s not the point!”
“Then what is the point?”
“You’re believing in him over me!”
“Don’t pout, Liz, you know you’re a psycho.” He leaned over and kissed me. I hadn’t even noticed I was pouting until he’d observed on it. I have no idea how Lindsey can make me pout, no one else has ever been able to since I got out of the third grade. I hated him for it. Admittedly most of the things I hate about him stem from his ability to make me act like a girl. I could easily fall in love with Lindsey, and that made me want to cause him physical pain.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lindsey soothed.
“Who says I’m worried about you?”
“Me.” In about ten seconds I went through the full range of my emotions. At first I was pissed off, then annoyed, then amused, and then finally found myself laughing joyously. Lindsey was obviously relieved that I had taken his comment as he meant it because he looked nervous up to the point when I started laughing. And then he laughed right along with me.
Until my phone rang.
Normally my cell doesn’t instill the quiet resignation that it did that time. I usually just answer it and be done with it but for some reason both Lindsey and I shut up immediately and stared at it in horror.
“Who was it?” Lindsey whispered, as if who ever was calling would hear him. The display screen showed ‘Malcolm’ but for some reason I really didn’t want to answer it and felt that same desire to be as quiet as possible. Finally the ringing stopped and the two of us were left in the near silence of the restaurant. A couple seconds later the phone happily chirped to tell me I had a message. I kept to my nervous quietness; Lindsey just twirled his straw in his soda creating a gentle whirlpool.
The next day was Saturday and I had planned to spend most of the day in bed. Lindsey had other plans. In fact, his plans included waking up at the ass crack of dawn and making omelets. Of course I have nothing that could possibly create omelets in my fridge so he had to settle on fixing up two bowls of Frosted Flakes. I didn’t tell him that I had no idea how long that cereal had been in my pantry. But I ate it anyway, he seemed so depressed that he couldn’t show off his cooking ability. Then again ramen is impressive cooking to me.
“You’re up early,” I said between mouthfuls.
“So are you,” Lindsey pointed out.
“I’m only up because you are.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s ok, really.”
“Since when?” he asked, obviously shocked that I hadn’t come back with some bitchy remark.
“Since I said so,” I snapped. He relaxed, no longer expecting me to rip his head off. Impressive how my being nice puts people on edge and being mean always puts them at ease. “Why are you up so early?” I asked.
“Christian told me I could move some of my stuff in today,” he admitted. I held in a scoff. “I could use the help if you want to.”
“I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I said I’d help.”
“I don’t need help, really.”
“You just said you could use the help,” I pointed out. Lindsey gave me a look. Guess he hadn’t expected me to accept. “If you don’t want me to you can just say so.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you, I’m sure you have plans.”
“I do. Well, did. I was planning on staying in bed all day, you know, marathon the orgasms.”
He smiled and went back to eating. We didn’t say anything for a good long minute. Actually we were quiet until we’d both finished our cereal. Lindsey took my bowel and set both of ours on the window frame next to my bed and pulled me close for a kiss. Normally I would have pushed him away, I always hate kissing people when I have morning breath, but I so much didn’t want to that I didn’t. I’d slept naked so my breasts were bare when he ran his hands down the front of my chest. I twisted towards him trying to make it subtle enough that he wouldn’t notice but I still wanted him to touch me more. He noticed and broke into a smile that broke our kiss ever so slightly the way smiling does.
We didn’t end up getting out of bed
until after
“Liz!” Charles said happily when we drove up. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to be tagging along.
“Charles,” I responded, politely, being bitchy to Charles would only raise Lindsey’s suspicions.
“What have you been up to?” Charles asked, being a hell of a lot perkier than he normally is, “I expected to see you at the party Thursday night.”
I debated over what to tell him. Everything I could say would have some sort of stupid backlash. If I said I was busy he’d demand to know what I was up to, in the nicest sort of way. If I said I wasn’t feeling up to it, he’d immediately assume I was sick and start trying to baby me. And if I said I wasn’t invited, he’d go batty at Rachel for being mean to me. Dealing with Charles has always been tricky, even more now since I didn’t want him poking around why I’d broken up with him.
Apparently I thought too long because his face fell and he said, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.” I had no safe response again and instead of going silent I just walked away to start packing Lindsey’s crap into my car’s trunk. Life can be so difficult for me sometimes.
“Why are you being so mean to Charles?” Lindsey asked as we settled back into my car. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t have a good response and ignoring the fact that he’d said anything seemed to be the lesser of the evils. “Liz,” he said sternly, “Liz, don’t ignore me.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” I lied. He gave me one of those classic Lindsey looks. “I’m just choosing not to answer your question.”
“This isn’t court, you can’t plead the fifth with your friends.”
“Like hell I can’t,” I argued, “it just takes a little more work and determination.”
“Be prepared to work very hard then, ‘cause I’m not going to let you get away with this easily.”
“Why?”
“Because he made you happy and I want to know why you’re throwing that away.”
“Lots of people make me happy.”
“Bull.”
“Lin, please,” I pleaded, “Just drop it.” And to my surprise he simply gave me a look and did exactly as I asked. For now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust that Lindsey will let a dead dog lie. It just isn’t his way. I need less nosey friends. Or at least a few more that distinctly don’t care.
“Try to be nice to Christian,” Lindsey said suddenly.
“Excuse me?” I asked, dumbfounded, where did that come from?
“Today, and later, moving stuff,” he explained, “Please remember that he’s my roommate now.”
“Why do I have to be nice to my sextoy’s roommate?”
“Cut the bitch, Liz, I get it,” he snapped. I shut up. I don’t think Lindsey had ever raised his voice to me, it was weird. In fact I was so shocked I kept my mouth shut the rest of the way to Ken’s Corner. I may love pissing people off but once they’re there I let them stew. It’s kept me healthy so far.
“I’m sorry,” I found myself saying after he’d parked illegally in front of the apartment building, “I’ll behave if it’s that important to you.”
“No, Liz, I’m sorry,” Lindsey said, “I didn’t mean to be so… so harsh, it’s just… it’s hard.” I could tell that this was hard for him too, it was probably all the stuttering that gave it away. Because of that I kept to my silence to let him spit out whatever it was he wanted to say, complete with corrections and retractions. “I don’t mean ‘it’, I don’t even know what ‘it’ is,” he continued to stammer, “It… I… Guess it just kind of hurts to hear you call me your ‘toy’,” he gave me puppy dog eyes, I didn’t know if I should swoon or throw up, “I don’t want to be you’re toy.”
“It’s a figure of speech,” I said, trying to smooth it over, “You know, like ‘boytoy’. It doesn’t mean you’re a toy…”
“Whatever,” Lindsey said with a shrug and escaped the intimidating conversation by getting out of the car. I wanted to kiss him for that, I wasn’t really interested in discussing this right now either. In fact, I didn’t want to have that conversation ever, at least until I’d figured out exactly what I did think. Before Charles and all this garbage my life was easy, the most complicated it ever was when I was falling for Malcom. Crap. Malcolm. I’d never checked his message or called him back. Speaking of being a bad fling.
“I’ll help you in a second,” I called to Lindsey as I got out of the car and dug my cell phone out of my purse, “I’m just going to check my messages real quick.” Lindsey didn’t answer, he must have still felt uncomfortable.
The message was shockingly short for Malcom and annoyingly vague. The gist of the entire message was “call me” which would have been fine had he not stuttered through it as if he had something terribly important to say but really didn’t want to have to be the one to tell me. And when I called him back, he didn’t answer, probably still asleep, and I was forced to leave a just as annoying message back. It probably would have been easier to just say “Hey, it’s Liz, call me,” but I didn’t, I had to be complicated. And not even simple complicated, that retarded complicated of “she knows that he knows and he knows she knows he knows…” and on and on until you want to shoot the narrator.
“What did Malcom want?” Lindsey asked.
I shrugged, “we’re playing phone tag right now.”
“Oh,” he said as if I’d responded with something insightful, “that sounds fun.”
“Lin?” I asked, “are you mad at me?”
“Let’s not talk about this right now,” he told me sternly and handed me a box, I guess to keep me busy enough not to push the issue. He was starting to grind on my nerves, something about the whole ‘some thing is wrong but I don’t feel like dealing with it right now’ was pissing me off. Then again I was doing the exact same thing to both Lindsey and Charles. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Charles was doing it as well and I just hadn’t caught on yet, what with me being so busy doing it first and all.
“Think we’re all going to die by killing each other over something really stupid?” I asked.
“Probably,” Lindsey agreed. Then he smiled a real genuine smile, one of those spontaneous smiles that closes your eyes and moves your head around.
“We’re getting really good at acting like the bad part of a Buffy episode, aren’t we?”
“The bad part being the fucked up romances that are just screwed up enough not to be a soap opera but still act like it?”
“Exactly,” Lindsey joked right back.
“I’ve never understood how people can do that,” Christian interjected, appearing suddenly right next to me.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Screw up their social life so it doesn’t remotely resemble logic?” Lindsey guessed.
“No, speak in random references and incoherent sentences yet instantly know what their friend is talking about.”
“My sister taught me,” Lindsey explained, “‘we need that whatchmacallit that does that thing, they have it at that place.’”
“That makes me think some sort of tool you’d need to fix a sink,” I said.
“I actually think that’s what it was,” Lindsey agreed, “either that or some type of wrench.”
“Sounds like a wrench,” I agreed.
“That’s what I mean!” Christian interrupted, “It doesn’t sound like anything, but it does to you two for some reason.”
“It’s just something you pick up if you know someone long enough,” Lindsey explained.
“Except that I’ve only known you for about four months or so,” I pointed out.
“Good point,” Lindsey agreed.
Christian just shook his head and looked like he was going to say something else except my cell phone started ringing. It was Malcom and this time I answered it.
“What?” I asked, wandering away from Lindsey and Christian.
“Is that anyway to greet your best friend?” Malcom said with a laugh.
“No, but you’re not my best friend.”
“Right back at you, Angel Cakes,” he teased, I just rolled my eyes, there was no arguing with Malcom about anything, “so what’s up?”
“What’s up?” I repeated, “You called me first, nimrod.”
“Oh yeah,” he laughed, “I’d forgotten about that.”
“What do you want?”
“Not me, my boss,” he explained, “We’ve got an opening.”
“And how does this affect me?”
“Well, you may be a craptastic journalist, but you’re good with books, and we need a new literary critic.”
I didn’t say anything for a long time. “Wait,” I said finally, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You, here, job, pays well, how clear do I have to make myself?”
“You’re offering me a job?” I stammered out.
“No,” He corrected, “my boss is, he read some of your work, just the stuff I have, and hasn’t got anyone else interested in the job. The ad has run for two weeks without a response.”
“What does that tell you?”
“That we don’t have enough unemployment here.”
“What the fuck ever, Malcom, I’m a little busy right now,” I snapped.
“Call me, Sweet Cheeks,” he teased and hung up on me.
“What is wrong with me?” I asked, hunching over my plate in order to hit my head on the table and not in the pasta.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Willam informed me, though seemingly ignoring my antics in favor of buttering a slab of bread.
“Have I explained this well?” I demanded, “Lindsey is being all snippy, Charles is acting like a kicked puppy, and there’s this new Christian stalker, can’t I just be left alone?”
“Don’t forget Malcom,” he pointed out.
“Malcom isn’t part of this.”
“Malcom is a part of everything,” Willam argued, finally turning his attention to me, “As long as I’ve known you Malcom has been a part of it.”
“I’ve known you longer than I’ve even known Malcom existed.”
“You know what I mean, so long as there was a Malcom to be a part there was a Malcom that was a part. Not that I blame you, of course, what a honey.”
“You wanna stop flaming for half a second,” I snapped, “There’s no Malcom, just three freaks. Three too many, but only three.”
“Fine,” Willam turned away from me, concentrating on his bread plate for a minute. I just lit a cigarette and ignored him. When he did finally look back at me he was holding up his bread cut into the crude shape of a man. “Liz, meet Charles. Charles, meet Liz.”
“That’s not Charles,” I argued, “It doesn’t look anything like him.”
“Liz, meet Charles. Charles, meet Liz,” He said again sternly.
“Fine, whatever, what’s the purpose of mini-Charles?”
“He’s for you to talk to, just pretend he’s Charles.”
“But I don’t talk to Charles.”
“And that would be why I didn’t hunt down, hog tie, and drag here the real Charles, just talk to the damn bread!”
“Fine,” I took a deep breath, “I know it’s difficult for me to say what’s on my mind,” I began, “You’ve known me long enough to know I don’t… I’m not doing this.”
“Liz,” Willam warned. But I was saved by both our realizations that the waiter was standing right next to our table and obviously had been for a long period of time. I froze up and turned bright red but Willam looked at him for a second, still holding up bread Charles before sitting up straight, clearing his throat, and explaining that we were perfectly fine at this time.
“This is why I don’t take you out in public,” I explained, “you make bread people.”
“It almost worked,” he argued and began nibbling on the bread.
“You ate Charles’ head,” I informed him.
“He’s a piece of bread,” Willam snapped giving me an odd look, “He’s not even a whole piece of bread, just a part of one.”
“You try and get me to transpose all my feelings for a person into a doll and then you bite his head off?”
“You never told me you still cared this much for Charles,” Willam deducted.
“That’s not what I said.”
“You got mad at me for eating bread-Charles’ head, I think that means you still have feelings for him.”
“You’re a moron,” I argued.
“Let’s try this again,” Willam held up his soup spoon, “This is now Lindsey.”
“I’m not doing this again,” I told him, “If I do all you’re going to do is drown him or something.”
“You’d care if I drowned him?”
“Of course I’d care! He’s a human being, you can’t just drown him!”
“He’s a spoon,” Willam argued, “I think this might be why you’re my best friend, you are completely insane.”
“Whatever.”
“Why don’t you just take Malcom’s job offer? It would get you away from all your men and you could live your little hermit life,” Willam offered.
“It’s not a real job offer,” I pointed out.
“How do you know?”
“Because most jobs you have an interview.”
“Its journalism, all that matters is your writing. If you’re ugly or have a bad attitude they’ll just stick you in an office with opaque windows and only talk to you on ICQ.”
“You know nothing about writing, do you?”
“I’m a computer geek, plus, fag,” Willam argued.
“I know plenty of gay guys that are writers.”
“Sure.”
“You were not only absent the day they taught logic, you were in the courtyard getting high, weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Willam agreed, “and you should know, you were with me.”
“One of these days we’re really going to have to learn that lesson.”
“I don’t think so,” He laughed, “I’m content with being blissfully ignorant on that subject. It’s gotten me out of a ton of sticky situations.”
Willam and I have been best friends
since before I can remember. And nothing has been able to tear us apart. Not my
destroying his Barbies in Elementary School, or him
coming out to me in Junior High, or even the nasty rumor that he was a
prostitute that arose in High School. (When I casually asked him about that
rumor he told me he never accepted money for sex, though several of his toys
were more than happy to help him with his homework.) We’d made damn sure to go
to the same college after high school and even shared an apartment where we
both constantly attempted to steal each others’ boy friends, with varied
results. Then Malcom came along and all bets were
off. Willam and I fought over him like we were stuck in a bad teen movie. It
wasn’t until Malcom informed us
that he was straight and I was a bitch (I think his exact words were “I
wouldn’t date a bitch like you with a ten-foot-pole even if you were a
When I got home after dinner with Willam I felt a little better. He has a way of doing that. And as I crawled onto my couch under a fluffy blanket I could almost bring myself to think about everything. But, seeing as it’s me, I found the first thing to distract me from confronting my problems. The TV has always been my best friend when it comes to that. But before I could turn it on there was a knock on my door. I ignored it and tried to be as quiet as possible, they’d just go away, but they didn’t, just knocked again. And at the door was Christian. Big surprise there that he’d be someone who wouldn’t give up knocking.
“Don’t get mad,” He said right off the bat before I could say something snappy, “I got your address out of Lindsey’s address book.”
“And that’s supposed to make me not get mad?” I demanded.
“It’s supposed to keep you from getting mad at Lindsey. Or thinking I’m a stalker,” he added quickly.
“Whatever. What do you want?”
“Just to talk. Can we walk?” I wanted to say no but I was in one of my moods were it felt like too much work to try and justify why I wouldn’t, so I just sighed and grabbed my sweater.
“Why are we walking?” I asked, kicking myself for even agreeing to go. I could only distract myself from Christian for so long with buttoning up my cardigan.
“It’s Lindsey, actually,” Christian explained, “I think he’s depressed.”
“I’m sure.”
“What do you mean? You mean you knew?”
“No,” I argued, “I mean I’m sure you’d know. You’ve known Lin for what, a day? I’m sure you know all about it.”
“Would you please not be so confrontational?” Christian snapped, grabbing my shoulder and holding me still, making me look at him, “I’m trying to tell you that something is wrong with Lindsey and you’re trying to turn this into a reason to attack me.”
“Why should I care about Lin?”
“Stop acting all high and mighty. I let the same thing happen with my wife. I tried to pretend that her feelings weren’t my problem and in the end that ripped our relationship to pieces. She’ll barely even speak to me now, so destroyed by the person she cared about ignoring her. I don’t think you want that to happen to Lindsey.”
“Lin and I are none of your business,” I snapped.
“Lindsey and you are all of my business because he’s my friend,” he argued, “I like you, Liz, I have no idea why, but I like you. But I am perfectly willing to step down and leave you alone if it would help Lindsey.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” Christian demanded, “I’m trying to be a friend to Lindsey. Friends don’t go after their friend’s girl. It may not be that way for girls but guys have rules, there are things you don’t do to your friends.”
“Don’t you go high and mighty on me now,” I snapped, “Girls have rules, I just choose not to follow them. I follow my own rules. And my own intuitions and I have feeling that you’re not doing this for Lin.”
“I’ll humor you, why am I doing this then?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s a ploy to make me like you more, like Lin less.”
“Don’t flatter yourself! I would never use Lindsey to get closer to you. I invited him to live with me because he needed help, I’m friends with him because I like him, and I’m here now, giving you up, because he’s my friend and it’s the right thing to.”
“I’m not one to trust my stalkers.”
“I’m not stalking you, you are such a narcissist.”
“I am not a narcissist.”
“Excuse me, stuck up, self-loving, vane, egotastic… Which do you prefer?”
“Brat!” I accused.
“Brat works too,” Christian stopped and laughed, I had to ball up my fists not to hit him for it, “Let’s stop bickering, its stupid.”
“I don’t think so,” I explained, “Every time I see you I like you less and less so I think pointedly displaying my displeasure with you is a good course of action.”
“I’m trying to be your friend.”
“You’re failing.”
“Probably because you’re refusing to give me a chance,” Christian argued, “from the first word I said to you at the coffee shop you haven’t liked me. You are just so damned determined not to like me and you’re willing to sacrifice Lindsey for that, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sacrificing Lin.”
“That’s the part you’ll argue, not that you’re making a point to dislike me. Why am I not surprised.”
“What about that doesn’t surprise you?”
“All of it,” Christian snapped, “Well, I guess the not wanting to abandon Lindsey. Has anyone told you you’re a bitch?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” He gave a quick laugh, “I really don’t know what made me think you were a standable person, or that you might possibly care about Lindsey. You’re a bitch and I don’t even know why I bother.” He turned sharply away and walked away from me. At first I just let him go but I just couldn’t do it. Without really thinking I found myself calling out to Christian, calling him back.
“What?” He demanded, “Got something else zinging to say? Got another little spoiled rotten remark to impart upon me?”
“Would you shut up?” I asked, “I just want to know if what you said about Lin is true.”
“About what? The depression?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “I’ll admit that I don’t really know Lindsey but he’s been acting really down and I remember him being much more… Well… Up.”
“Lin is usually a little bit perka.”
“I guess perka is a good way of putting it, odd way, but good way.”
“Then what do I do?” I asked, “What can I do for Lin?”
“Try just being there. You don’t have to be his girlfriend or his best friend or even his friend but he loves you and he needs to know or think or whatever that you care.”
“I do care.”
“Then show him.”
It was my turn to walk away. I really had nothing else to say and Christian’s perception was really starting to piss me off. I’d never liked anyone who was astute enough to figure me out. I was more pissed off at him then ever but for reasons I couldn’t quite understand I was starting to actually like him. He was just so pathetic, not even remotely witty or subtle, it made me laugh. And, instead of making me want to punch him in the face, was starting to make me want to call him back and rip him into pieces a little more, he made it so easy I wanted to revel in it. But that would have been cruel. I’m really not cruel.
The next day was Charles and I’s six month and for reasons that I still can’t fathom I completely forgot that I had not only broken up with the guy but I was actually actively avoiding him. Somewhere between waking up and looking at my schedule I completely missed it. Needless to say, I freaked. There was so much to do and, obviously, I hadn’t done a bit of it. Took me twenty minutes to calm down enough to call in sick to work with a reasonably realistic cough and quiver in my voice, I really should have be an actress, though I never can remember things. I spent the whole day rushing around getting things together. Two hours in the mall searching for the perfect dress (you know the one, accents all of your qualities while downplaying your faults yet still manages to have that certain look of “This old thing?”) and another several hours in the grocery store buying food and wine for the perfect six month dinner. Admittedly a good bit of the time at the store was choosing between slice and cook cookies or strawberry shortcake, strawberry shortcake is the most scrumptious thing in existence and it does say “I love you so much look what I made for you” even if you did buy it at the buffet while those little slice and cook cookies not only have those ink-blot shapes that don’t look like anything thus can be interpreted by your honey as whatever makes him think you like him the most but also has that air of “I’m quite fond of you but I’m also a very busy girl” even though they take six hours to cook. And once that’s settled do you get white or red wine, because no one with any sense knows which goes with what, and after you’ve figured that out do you buy a dessert wine. Charles always called me neurotic, in the nicest way possible, but it’s very rare do I see what he meant.
Somewhere in all the mess Lindsey
called me on my cell, probably around lunch, but I believe I was still
stressing about whether to cook beef, lamb, or buffalo so I just babbled
something incoherent and hung up on him. He didn’t call back so I figured it
couldn’t be too important. But around
“Come in,” I yelled, “I’m in the bathroom.” It was the perfect line. Girls take forever in the bathroom, and around guys you’re allowed to take as long as you want since they have no idea how long is the correct time. Problem was I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in a slightly better state of mind and realized that I was beginning to look like a coke fiend clown and started desperately trying to get as much make-up off as I could without having to start all over. Any other circumstances I could have gotten away with it but not now. Oh no. Charles didn’t give a crap about the sanctity of a girl’s bathroom and busted right in.
“Have you gone completely mental?” He demanded, “Have you fallen off the deep end? Do I need to call the men in white coats?” I normally would have responded with something stupid but seeing him, especially seeing him so pissed off, brought me completely back to my senses and I remembered that I had a huge six-month celebration planned for me and my ex. Me and an ex that weren’t on the best terms. Needless to say I just stood there staring stupidly, which I guess is just as good. “So,” he started up again, pacing ever so slightly in his ranting, “I call Lindsey to ask if he wants to grab dinner or something and what does he say to me, wanna guess?”
“Not really,” I managed out, after he’d stared me down for a very long second.
“Then I’ll just tell you. He says to me ‘how odd you hear from you, Charles! I thought you had dinner with Liz tonight, I think its great that you’re patching things up.’”
“Wonder where he got that idea,” I lied.
“From you, apparently!” he yelled, “seems he called you earlier today and you told him you couldn’t talk because you were too busy planning yours and I’s important dinner tonight.”
“Oh.”
“What is wrong with you, Liz? What goes on in your head? Does anything go on in your head, because you’re sure as hell acting like nothing does!”
And if I didn’t have enough problems and I wasn’t acting enough like I’d had brain removal surgery earlier that morning, I burst out in tears. No warning, even to myself, just suddenly I’m crying like I’ve just been told my goldfish died and using what little mental control I have left not to pitch backwards into the tub and crack my head open. Seeing how very unprecedented this was, all the rage seemed to just drop out of Charles and he was sitting me on the toilet, handing me tissues, and babbling anything he thought might help, everything from “it’s ok, I’m here” to “If you cry like this you’ll run your pretty mascara”. Which was a crock of shit, by the way, there was absolutely no way my make-up could look worse. But nothing he said helped. Nothing I said helped. It was like my body was acting completely independently from my head. I just kept on bawling while my brain screamed “what is wrong with you, you dumb twit?”
“Could you not?” I finally said.
“Not what?”
“I’m a moron,” I blurted out, I couldn’t help myself, it was just pouring out, like the crying, I couldn’t control my mouth, it was starting to get freaky around this point. “I’m a psychotic moron, and you really don’t need to rub it in, I know it.”
“Are you having a breakdown?” Charles asked calmly.
“It’s uncanny!” I continued, “I try so hard to do something special and everything goes wrong. I think the only thing I did get right was the date. I did get the date right?”
“The dates right.”
“I go over my sick days, so I might not have a job anymore, I burn dinner beyond recognition, dessert is a complete disaster, I’m not even sure I could bring myself to eat it, I buy white wine when any idiot knows that white wine goes with fish, not red meat, on top of that I screw my make-up like a pro, and I do all this for some guy who isn’t even my boyfriend because I managed to even screw that up just because his wife happens to be just as crazy as I am! Not only that I have to go off and cry like a two-year-old in my bathroom so I can’t even go out with any dignity by politely offering you blue soup in return for you leaving and never speaking of this again.”
“You made blue soup?” was all Charles managed to stammer out.
“No, you idiot, it’s a reference, Bridget Jones’ Diary, blue soup, green gunge, and something else.”
“That’s British isn’t it? I don’t do British.”
“Please leave. I’d like to have dinner, and burn this dress. Why did I buy the most hideous dress ever?”
“It’s not hideous,” Charles argued, “it,” he paused, looking me over, “it brings out your softer side.”
“That would be the brain cells dying. I thought you were leaving.”
“Yeah, are you sure you’re going to be ok?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him sarcastically, “I’m going to watch gay TV all night to try and alleviate this urge I have to be anywhere near males, I did just pick up the UK Queer as Folk, full evening.”
“I could stay, watch it with you, if you’d like.”
“You don’t do British, remember?”
“The gay overcomes the British, plus it’ll take you an hour to hack around the region encoding on your own.”
“I’m really not that much of an idiot.”
“Perhaps, but your record holds at 55 minutes and I’m sure I can do it in 54.”
I had no response and there was really no way I could justify throwing him out after my being a psycho and him being so nice to me. I’d like to say I bitched a little or at the very least grumbled but instead I just kind of stared at him then went back to the bathroom to clean up. And instead of messing with my DvD player he followed me.
“Are you ok?” He asked, standing in the doorway while I ignored him.
“I’m fine,” I told him making sure not to look at him.
“Are you sure?” I didn’t answer just kept washing my face. “I’m worried about you,” Charles finally admitted, “You’ve been so weird lately and I can’t figure out why.”
“How am I being weird? I mean, other than tonight…”
“I don’t know,” he gave a half chuckle and sat down on the toilet, which, incidentally, put his face directly in my ass as I leaned over the sink. I have no idea if he noticed and didn’t want to admit he’d screwed up sitting there or if he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice, both were very Charles things to do. “You haven’t felt like Liz,” he said after a long silent second.
“I don’t feel like Liz?” I repeated.
“Yeah, in a body snatcher way, you know, someone can tell which of their friends are still human by the way they feel.”
“Did you just call me a body snatcher?”
“Yes, I mean, no. I don’t know what I mean. You’ve always just been Liz, sometimes more and sometimes less but now it seems like everything that made you Liz has suddenly evaporated and you’re now just all the Liz that wasn’t very Liz to begin with.”
“Did that make sense or is it just me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do,” I told him and turned around to look down at him. For a minute we just stared at each other with no words or so much as an expression. “Maybe I do get it,” I admitted.
“What happened?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” I laughed, “I hadn’t even noticed.”
“I mean to us. We used to be happy and now I don’t know what to say to you.”
I didn’t answer right away, just looked at him and tried to remember what he meant. Remember when we used to go out every Wednesday and couldn’t get enough of each other. When we could talk for hours about something that interested one of us but the other couldn’t care less. It really hurt to remember how much I loved him, maybe even still loved him. And because of that I found myself saying “Kristen asked me to break up with you.”
He was silent, just staring into my eyes as I was his, “I know,” he admitted, “I just don’t know why you did.”
“Because she was right, she didn’t know she was right but she was, we’d never work out.”
“Why.”
“Don’t know, just know.”
“We have to work harder,” He said sternly.
“Work harder at what? There’s nothing to work harder at.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re my girlfriend or my wife or my anything, you’re my friend and I’m willing to work harder for that.”
“Am I?”
“My friend? Of course you are and Kristen can’t change that.”
“No. Am I willing to work harder?”
“Why are you asking me?” he asked.
“You know me better than even I do. Am I capable of working harder?”
“I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“I don’t know either, that can’t be good.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he consoled but all I could do was look at him.
“Did you love me?” I asked out of the blue.
“Yes.”
“Do you love me now?”
“Don’t know.”
“Think you could?”
“I don’t think you’re going to give me the chance to find out.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, “I don’t think I could handle the answer.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No. But I think you should.”
Charles said nothing as he stood up and left. As soon as I heard the front door close I burst out in tears again and took his seat on the toilet. How had my life gotten so complicated? It seemed like, in my effort to simplify things, I’d make everything ten times worse. I wanted to call someone and talk but I had no one right then. Lindsey, Charles, and even Christian were off the list immediately, Willam would tell me exactly what he had before, and Malcom was only good for sex. For one of the first times in my life I felt to incredibly alone, felt like there was no one I could turn to, because there wasn’t. Everyone in my life that was close enough to talk to I’d alienated and had never bothered making any other friends. The only advice I did have was Willam telling me to move away and work with Malcom but I couldn’t just leave all this crap unresolved or it would weigh on me for the rest of my life. I couldn’t handle thinking about it anymore so I just went to bed early and slept badly.
I really didn’t want to go to work the next morning even if I did wake up around 4 so it wasn’t a matter of getting up in the morning. It was more a matter of managing to get out of bed. I wanted to lay there and brood, but it wasn’t an option. I wanted to depress myself, as I’m so very good at doing half the time. If I hadn’t taken a sick day the day before I would have called in but I had so I didn’t. I stumbled into work barely dressed and barely showered, and no one said anything as they could tell from the look on my face that it was a blessing I was even there. Which also lent weight to my having called in sick the day before. Of course my being in a bad mood usually means that my boss tries to convince me I really want to go work in the back so I spent all morning packing and unpacking boxes until my watch dinged cheerfully and I stumbled off to the coffee shop. No sooner had I sat down with an espresso did Christian slide into the seat across from me.
“You look like hell,” he informed me. I just glared at him and he just smiled, “long night?”
“Long day,” I replied.
“It’s not even
“Yesterday.”
“Oh,” Christian said and sipped in drink, “date?”
“Gods no,” I laughed, “I don’t even know if I remember how to date.”
“Why do I doubt that you’ve been dateless for a while.”
“I haven’t been dateless I’ve been dating, thus no dates.”
“That shouldn’t make sense but it does,” Christian joked. I managed a slight smile at him but I doubt he saw it as I was concentrating on not drowning in my coffee. He reached over and scratched the back of my neck, “maybe you should go home and sleep.”
“Can’t. Work.”
“You can’t go home sick?”
“I was sick yesterday,” I explained. He took my espresso, I feebly reached for it but was too tired to do much else, he slipped in front of me the cup he’d been drinking from.
“Drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Tea.”
“I don’t drink tea.”
“You do now, it’ll make you feel better,” he said sternly. I glared at him a little but he was unfazed. I sipped the tea, it wasn’t that bad so I kept drinking, it was nice to have something warm in my stomach. “Wanna tell me what happened?” He asked.
“No,” I muttered.
“Can I guess?”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I will.”
“You’re in a bad mood, usually you have something wittier to say.”
“Tell me about it,” I laughed a little, I was, depressingly, feeling a tad better, “Well, I may not usually be witty but I’m not feeling well.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Shoot me in the head.”
“Will Dayquil do?” He joked pulling one of those little pill squares out of his pocket.
“Wouldn’t hurt. I should probably get back to work.”
“Don’t work yourself too hard, and get something to eat later.”
“I will. And thanks.”
There was no way Lindsey could be correct. It just didn’t make sense. In this sitcom I was the cynical freak who was always right and Lindsey was the bumbling neighbor who’s always wrong. Christian couldn’t be a nice guy because Lindsey said he was. The rules were being broken and it just wasn’t fair I was content with my facts and these new ones just didn’t fit. It made me feel even crummier, if I was wrong about Christian I could be wrong about everything else too and that just didn’t seem right. Or at the very least didn’t feel very right.
Willam took me out that night to try and coax me out of my funk with ice cream. His solution for everything is either bread people or ice cream, I was happy, considering my mood, that he had chosen the latter. Even happier when I walked in and saw him. I don’t know what it was but the moment I laid eyes on him I knew that this was someone I had to have. He was in the corner behind the counter and talking on the phone, arguing with someone, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying no matter how I tried. I think both Willam and the girl who was helping us thought I was insane as I tried to maneuver myself to better eavesdrop.
“What are you doing?” Willam finally asked me, already sounding a little annoyed despite my not having said anything stupid for a good five minutes.
I opened my mouth to make up a lie but nothing came to mind so I just told the truth: “I’m trying to listen in on that guy’s conversation.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s cute,” I admitted feeling thoroughly foolish.
“Matt?” Willam asked, “You think Matt is cute?” He turned around to look at the guy, Matt, and then back to me. I just nodded. “Well, he’s just broken up with his girlfriend, you should ask him out.”
“He has? How long ago?” I asked, “Because if it was like yesterday its just skeazy to ask him out but if it was like a month ago…”
“Who are you and what have you done with Liz?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” He explained, “Liz is a composed moron, you’re acting like a ditz. And Matt, not cute enough to turn you into a blithering idiot.”
“There’s just something about him.”
“Right.”
“So when did he and his girlfriend break up?” I asked, steering the conversation away from how much of an idiot I am.
“No idea.”
“Then how do you know he just broke up with her?”
“Because he’s always just broken up with his girlfriend,” Willam sighed and put his spoon down in his ice cream cup, I assumed to give the impression that he was taking me seriously, “There’s something you should know about Matt, he’s always being dumped. Could be him could be that he has bad taste but it’s a constant of the universe. I’m hot, you’re neurotic, and Matt is a relationship pariah. Without those facts chaos occurs.”
“I’m not neurotic.”
“You’re neurotic.
“I’m not neurotic!”
“See that, right there, that outburst? Neurotic.”
“I need a distraction.”
“You need medication.”
“Would you shut up?” I snapped, “I mean I need a distraction from Charles.”
“And Lindsey.”
“And Lindsey,” I added.
“And Christian.”
“I don’t need a distraction from Christian, I’m already distracted from Christian because I’m not paying him any attention,” I attempted to explain but Willam wasn’t listening.
“He was all nice to you.”
“Just because someone is nice to me doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly interested in them.”
“But all those mushy feelings you’re having towards him do.”
“I don’t have mushy feelings for Christian!”
“Yeah you do.”
“I’m not arguing about this now.”
“Because you know I’m right,” Willam pointed out. I wanted to hit him he looked so smug.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Moving along!” I said sternly, “I need a distraction from Charles and Lindsey and, fine, from Christian, if that makes you happy. Maybe going out with someone like Matt is just the ticket to a healthy relationshipless mind and spirit.”
“Don’t forget Malcom.”
“Malcom is not a part of this.”
“If you say so,” Willam conceded, “But I don’t know how having a relationship is going to help you cope with not being in a relationship.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“Nope.”
“But I really want him.”
“Who?” He asked, “Matt? You’ve never even spoken to him.”
“I know, but there’s something about him.”
“He is pretty hot.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t cute.”
“I said he wasn’t cute enough to turn you into a blithering idiot, that doesn’t make him not eye candy.”
“So I can look but I can’t have?”
“Look, Liz,” Willam sighed, “Matt is a bad idea. He works in an ice cream store for crying out loud. Plus he’s one of those guys that has a tendency to make girls into lesbians.”
“His girlfriends are all lesbians?”
“No, just that type of guy.”
“I’m confused,” I admitted, “He’s the type of guy that turns girls into lesbians but he doesn’t turn girls into lesbians.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Go out with Matt and bad things happen,” he tried explaining, “I don’t know what but something about him makes girls dump him faster than they take out the trash.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Hey, Matt!” Willam called and waved at Matt.
“Don’t bring him over here,” I hissed.
“How are you?” Matt asked.
“I’m ok,” Willam said.
“And who’s your friend?”
“That’s just Liz, she’s crazy,” Willam dismissed, “Tell me, how’s your girlfriend?”
“Oh,” Matt slouched a little, “She broke up with me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t know, it was really out of the blue. I thought we were getting along really well.”
“You and her had been going out what? A month? A week? A day?”
Matt chuckled slightly, “Two weeks.”
“You have a customer,” Willam pointed over to the counter where a couple had been patiently standing since Matt had walked away. He waved at us and hurried over to help them.
“Ok, maybe you’re right,” I grumbled, “that is pretty pathetic.”
“It’s always like that to varying degrees. Normally I’d assume he was saying it to get attention but I’ve met a few of them before they broke up so I’m pretty sure he’s serious,” Willam explained, “Come to think of it I’ve never seen any of them since, maybe he drives girls out of town.”
“I doubt that.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. You should ask him out, maybe I can finally figure out what’s so terribly wrong with him.”
“What if it turns out he’s gay?”
“I don’t know,” Willam admitted, “He’s damn cute, I’d totally tap that, but if he is he’s one serious closet case and that’s not so much a turn-on.”
“My life sucks.”
“Still want a distraction?”
“If your idea of a distraction includes more ice cream or mass amounts of alcohol I’m going to hit you.”
“Neither. This is something that’s better served hot.”
“Wow,” I said, “That was actually kind of funny.”
“I thought so. Anyway, I know this guy, has an ass that won’t quit…”
“I don’t need a guy to distract me.”
“Ok,” Willam paused to think, “then my advice is to talk Christian into taking you out to dinner.”
“Why Christian?”
“Because out of Christian, Lindsey, Charles, and Malcom, Christian is the one you don’t know.”
“I don’t want to know him.”
“Sure you do,” Willam smiled, “Try and tell me that you aren’t intrigued by him.”
“Why would I be intrigued by him?”
“Hell, I’m intrigued by him! This guy comes out of no where and starts obsessing over you, won’t take your bitch attitude, worms his way in with one of your friends. I want to know what he’s up to.”
“You think he’s up to something?”
“Either that or he’s crazy which it just as good when it comes to anecdotes.”
“Hate to burst your bubble,” I admitted, “but he’s not interested in me anymore.”
“Since when?”
“He came to my apartment all worried about Lindsey because he’s depressed and Christian thinks it’s my fault. And if it isn’t my fault that I need to do something about it. Long story short now he thinks I’m a psycho bitch.”
“You are a psycho bitch.”
“What I mean is he doesn’t like me anymore.”
“Was this before or after the tea incident?”
“Two nights before.”
“Let me get this straight,” Willam started, “you complain to me about how he’s so annoying and forcing tea down your throat but fail to mention that right before that he said he wasn’t interested in you.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No. It’s not. You like complaining about Christian chasing after you when you don’t want him to but you don’t want to admit when he stops. Either you like him but aren’t ready to deal with it yet so you’re pretending he never said he didn’t like you or you like people thinking that you’re so desirable that you have a stalker that’ll put up with anything and don’t want to admit that maybe you pushed him too far.”
“I guess…” I admitted.
“So? Which is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you have to have dinner with him.”
“He doesn’t want to have dinner with me.”
“Make up some cock-and-bull story about how sorry you are for being terrible to him without knowing him and to make up for it, and because he’s Lindsey’s friend, you want to buy him dinner.”
“Think that’d work?”
“I don’t know. Do you care?”
I paused to think about the question for a second, “yeah,” I finally admitted, “I guess I kinda do.”
“So you admit to liking Christian?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to figure it out and fast.”
“Well, Mr. I-have-an-answer-to-all-of-Liz’s-problems, how do I figure it out?”
“You go out to dinner with him.”
I spent two days thinking about what Willam had said. It seemed unnatural and wrong for me to like Christian. And, frankly, it really pissed me off that there was a chance that I had clearly made such a snap judgment. And it just enraged me that said judgment could be wrong. I threw a few things. Mostly just the empty aspirin bottle that refuses to budge from my coffee table. And I threw it several times because I liked the odd hollow sound it made when it hit the wall. Even after I had stopped being mad and was just strangely frustrated with myself I kept on throwing the bottle around my apartment. And I vowed to never throw it out since it obviously was the perfect stress reliever.
After my few days of quiet angst I finally admitted that maybe Willam was right, like he always seems to be. I needed to figure out what was going on in my head and the only person who seemed capable of doing that was Christian. I had to find him and I had to convince him I wasn’t a complete psycho. I told myself that was all I needed, someone who thought I was insane to think I wasn’t. But if that was the case then there was a huge number of people to choose from. Christian was the easiest, I told myself, he had known me the shortest amount of time thus would be easier to convince.
Luck seemed to be on my side. When I wandered into my coffee shop and found Christian reading a newspaper in a window seat. I sat down across from him and stared through the newspaper at where I assumed his face was. He ignored me for a minute.
“What?” he said finally without putting down his newspaper.
“Go out to dinner with me,” I commanded.
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“And my answer wasn’t negotiable.”
I didn’t know what to say. I almost got angry but my heart wasn’t in it. Instead I just felt like I was going to cry.
“Why not?” I asked once I felt like I’d gotten a handle of myself. Christian simply refolded his newspaper very precisely and looked at me. “Why won’t you go out to dinner with me?”
“Why do you want me to?” he asked.
“I…” I considered telling the truth but changed my mind, “I don’t want to tell you,” is what came out instead.
“Not good enough,” he said and went to pick back up his newspaper. I reached out and grabbed it. Didn’t touch him, just lay my hand over the paper.
“I was unfair,” I admitted, “with you. And I’d like to remedy that.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re Lindsey’s friend,” I lied.
“Liar,” he said, “you wouldn’t raise a finger to help him and we both know it.”
“Not everything I do is selfishly motivated.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“You’re as much to blame as me,” I spit out without meaning to, “you judged me as quickly as I did you.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You think I’m a nut job but you don’t know me.”
“I don’t think you’re a nut job,” Christian said. It kind of surprised me to hear him say it and surprised me even more that I believed him. “And I don’t think you’re crazy. Well, any crazier than anyone else in the world. What I think is that you’re a pretty girl who has always had guys fawning all over you so you never learned to value friendship.”
“I value my friends,” I argued.
“But not Lindsey.”
“He’s not my friend,” I admitted.
“No, he’s your toy.” I really hated hearing him say that. Part of me wanted to instantly agree but another part of me was indignant to be judged that way.
“He’s not my toy,” I said finally, “But he’s not my friend either.”
“Why not? What about your relationship makes him not your friend?”
I thought about my answer. And I thought about my lie. “I’ve slept with him.” I answered, “I’m not friends with guys I’ve slept with.”
“I still don’t think you’re crazy,” Christian disclaimered, “but I do think you should look into therapy.”
“I thought I wasn’t crazy.”
“Not crazy therapy but you’re views of the world are skewed. You can’t be happy.”
“I’m happy,” I said quickly.
“Oh?”
“I really am.”
“How often do you tell yourself that?”
I didn’t answer. Christian just kept looking at me. And no matter how hard I tried to think about it the answer never came. I never told myself I was happy, I’d just always believed that I was. How could I not be happy? I wasn’t one of those people. Wandering around whining and popping pills to chase away all feelings that were sad. I was better than that. I was better than them. I was better than all of them. And I was better than everyone else too. I was taken aback. I’d never thought that before. I’d never considered myself better than everyone else before. I thought. Maybe I had. Charles would never last because I was so much better than him. Lindsey wasn’t worth the energy because he was below me. I didn’t have to pick up the phone when Malcom called because he wasn’t worth it. Christian couldn’t possibly be right because he wasn’t as smart as I was. Kristin was likely to freak out at any time because that’s what people who weren’t me do. The only person I had never thought I was better than was Willam. My only equal in a world of peons.
Christian leaned across the table and kissed me. It scared the crap out of me. I had been so lost in thought that I had completely forgotten he was there. It was a chaste kiss. His hand on the back of my head so I couldn’t pull away but not demanding anything. Just soft lips. And for the first time in I don’t know how long I dropped my shields and just kissed him back. I didn’t worry about what he was doing and I didn’t think. Just soft lips.
He pulled away before I was ready but he stayed close and in a way that was just as good.
“I want to make you happy,” he whispered.
“It’s not about me,” I said, “I don’t want it to be about me.”
He didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t make a face. Didn’t let anything show.
“Have dinner with me,” he said.
“That’s my line,” I responded.
“This isn’t about you,” he said sternly. Then he just stood up and walked out of the coffee shop.
And then I had a thought I’d never had before: What was Lindsey going to think? And I knew my downward spiral had started. My mental pedestal was crumbling beneath me and I didn’t like it. I didn’t belong in the world that everyone lived in. I was better than this. I was better than them. I couldn’t even convince myself of that fully.
I didn’t hear from Christian for days. He didn’t come to the coffee shop during the entire time. It frustrated me, how could he kiss me and then disappear? It just wasn’t right. He was supposed to call me, he was supposed to chase after me and here I was looking up expectantly at everyone who came in the coffee shop or the book store. My coworkers didn’t know what to make of it. I violently shifted between civil and bitingly nasty. Even my manager seemed reluctant to approach me. I had shifted into a bipolar ticking time bomb and no one wanted to be there when I finally self destructed.
And just when I was about to shut down someone entered my apartment without knocking. I had been laying in bed and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the door open. Christian came right into my bed room with his arms crossed and looked at me.
“Get up,” he said, “we’re going out to dinner.”
“Dinner?” I stammered out, “But I’m not…”
“You?” he interrupted and raised his eyebrow.
I stood up and looked at him, thrown completely off guard. “Can I comb my hair?” I asked.
“I don’t know, can you?”
“May I comb my hair?” I corrected.
“If you want,” he said. I considered it for a moment and just got more uncomfortable.
“Do you want me to?”
“Comb your hair,” he told me.
I had to keep myself from running to the bathroom. Part of me wanted to be as far away from as possible and was the part of me that prickled when he followed me.
“You need to clean your bathroom,” he said, looking around the small room.
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” I promised.
The entire night was a rehash of what had gone on in my apartment. Christian telling me what to do and me doing it. I half expected him to order for me but he didn’t. I was still allowed that much at least. In a way it was exhilarating but that small part of me was constantly goading me onto anger. It wanted me to flip out and snip at him every time he said anything but I didn’t. And as the night went on it faded little bit by little bit until I could barely hear it anymore.
At my door he kissed me again. I realized I’d been looking forward to that. I wanted him to kiss me. It was a harder kiss this time. Not the same one as in the coffee shop. That had been about proving something but this. This was about actually wanting to kiss me. This time he wanted to taste me, wanted to feel me, wanted me. It made my knees weak like a kiss hadn’t since I had started high school. My legs nearly gave under me but Christian was holding me so tightly I had no worry of falling. I kissed him back at first, tried to show him that I wanted it as much as he did but in the end I gave in and let him take what he wanted of me. It wasn’t about what I wanted.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked him when we came up for air. I wasn’t expecting an answer and didn’t get one. He let himself in and pulled me along as if he owned the place. We collapsed onto the couch. He kissed me again. A longer kiss. And then he pulled away with his arms still around me.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” he asked. I was sure they had but I couldn’t think of the last time. I knew I was gorgeous so it was beneath me to remember when someone had felt compelled to tell me.
“You think I’m beautiful?” I asked sincerely.
“I think you are one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen,” he told me, “It’s just a pity that you’re so aware of it.”
“Tell me again,” I said, “please.”
“You’re wondrous, Liz,” he said, “
“No one has called me that in a long time,” I admitted.
“You’ve been Liz too long. You
should try being
“I like being around you,” I said.
“You do?”
“Yes,” I said without backing down, “I do.”
“I won’t be around forever.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Christian explained, “you’re going to go back to being the same way you were before and I’m going to leave.”
“You’re going to leave me?”
“Not you. But I will leave Liz.”
I thought about it for a moment and then stopped. It wasn’t something I particularly wanted to think about. So I thought of something completely different.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said instead, “Everything has gotten really complicated and I don’t know how it happened. With Lindsey and Charles.”
“And me?”
“I think I’m finally figuring you out.”
“What’s so complicated about them then?” he asked.
“I don’t know what they want from me,” I tried.
“Lindsey loves you,” he told me, “he always has.”
“He shouldn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you can do to make him stop. He’s going to go through life loving you and hurting.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t love him.”
“Why not?” Christian asked, “he’s a wonderful person and you obviously feel something for him seeing as you’ve strung him along this long.”
“I just liked stringing him along. I could do anything I wanted to him and know he would always be there. He was always willing to take anything I felt like dishing out to him whether it was hatred or abuse or sex.”
“Because he loves you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He probably doesn’t even know why. And he’ll probably continue dealing with all your shit because he honestly believes that someday you might fall in love with him.”
“And if I never do?”
“Then he’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’re willing to toss out along the way.”
“You talk about him like he’s a dog,” I said. It annoyed me ever so slightly but it was a different type of annoyance than I was used to, “he’s not a dog scrounging for scraps.”
“I know that but I’m not so sure you do.”
I buried my face in his chest so he couldn’t look at me. “Stay with me tonight,” I begged.
“No,” he said.
I think I cried a little. Silent tears muffled by Christian’s shirt. I didn’t know why I was crying. Just crying because I wanted to. Crying because it felt right. That same because that your parents always throw at you when you ask why you have to clean your room. Simply because.
I woke up in my own bed alone. And I woke up mad. My rage was back full blast and was pissed off at being held back the night before. And the rage was directed at me for pushing it away. Blinding red rage that made my entire body hurt. I didn’t know what day it was and I didn’t care. I barely knew where I was. I wanted to punch the wall until my hands bled and I wanted to smash the windows until I heard the glass hit the street below. The only reason I didn’t was my body wasn’t answering my commands, it wanted to lay very still and ride out the self destructive swell. But the swell refused to quell. It wanted me to hurt and there was no way it was going to just go away.
I stumbled into the bathroom without knowing where I was going. I smashed the mirror not wanting to look at myself. My hand bled from where I’d hit it and the blood made my beast hiss in pleasure. Yes. I needed to bleed. I needed to hurt. I needed to pay for ignoring it.
Apparently I blacked out at some
point because I woke up on the bathroom floor. The clock read
My cell phone was ringing in the other room. I stumbled over to it and stared at the caller ID until it stopped ringing. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to Lindsey but I just didn’t want to answer the phone. I waited a minute and then called him back.
“Hi!” He said happily picking up on the first ring.
“Hi.”
“How are you?” He asked.
“I’m good,” I told him and it wasn’t a lie, I did feel pretty good considering.
“Wonderful!” he piped at me. I waited for him to mention Christian but he didn’t, “what are you doing tonight?”
“Sleeping.”
Lindsey laughed, “like you sleep at night. Anyway, I’m thinking of having people over tonight, a house warming thing, you should come.”
“You don’t live in a house,” I sniped.
“You know what I mean. So will you come?”
“We’ll see.”
“We?”
“Figure of speech, Lin, I’ll come if I have time.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I snapped, “Something better might come along.”
“Come if you can,” he said, “hope to see you tonight.” And he hung up.
I sighed and collapsed on the couch. Such a bother. I didn’t really want to go to Lindsey’s. Mostly because I didn’t want to see Christian but it wasn’t just that, I wasn’t very interested in seeing anyone. And having Lindsey, Christian, and, most possibly, Charles all in the same room was a recipe for a freak out. I’d already had a freak out today and another wasn’t on the menu. Or, more precisely, wasn’t an appetizing concept.
For the rest of the day I looked for an excuse not to go. I even called work to see if they had any shifts open for that night but no luck. Though I did find out that my not showing up had gone virtually unnoticed as one of my coworkers had been hanging around and welcomed an extra shift. Even Willam seemed to be busy. He, thankfully, didn’t ask if there was anything new on the Christian front. I hadn’t told him about anything that had gone down since he had given me advice and I wasn’t planning on it. If he’d asked I probably would have lied anyway.
In the end I had no excuse so when
I was right about the three of them all being there. As was Kristin, a handful of other people I knew, and a few I didn’t that I assumed were Christian’s friends. I idly wondered if any of the girls I didn’t recognize were Christian’s wife but not enough to pry.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lindsey asked when I walked I entered. I accepted and sat myself in an overstuffed armchair that put a considerable distance between me and everyone else in the room. Charles looked hurt that I hadn’t stolen Lindsey’s seat on the couch next to him. Christian didn’t so much as look at me.
There was a movie on. It seemed to be about an hour in and had little storyline that I could figure out. Everyone was laughing and joking around, making fun of the movie at every available moment. No one tried to explain it to me. A few of the people I didn’t know glanced at me with looks of expectance and uncomfortableness and I gave them looks of indifference that seemed to be enough to placate them for the time being.
“Isn’t this apartment great?” Lindsey exclaimed when the movie was over and the credits were running across the screen. He said it to the room but I knew that it was directed at me. And I stayed pointedly silent until everyone else had happily given their opinions.
“Liz?” Christian asked when everyone was done. I didn’t like the way he had said my name. I turned and stared at him blankly. We locked eyes and neither of us gave the impression that we would be turning away anytime soon.
“It’s great, Lin,” I said without budging from Christian, “you’re so lucky.”
“I know!” Lindsey seemed to see nothing odd with my talking to him while having a staring contest with his roommate, “Christian is such a great person to live with too! I’m enjoying it fully!” Everything he said seemed to end in an exclamation point. I’d been around Lindsey when he was like this before and at first it had annoyed me but now it barely fazed me. Though a few of the other people in the room shifted in their seats whenever he spoke as if unsure of how to respond or react.
“Should we put on another movie?” One of the girls I didn’t know asked.
“There are a bunch of movies in the cabinet,” Christian said to no one in particular. He didn’t so much as glance over at the person speaking. “So, Liz, how was your day?”
“It was good,” I told him.
“What did you do?”
“Errands.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good.” We both spit out our words like they were some terrible inside joke. Wrapping every syllable in contempt until our mouths dripped with hatred. I felt like the air around me was tingling as if we were broadcasting our feelings to everyone in the room. I told myself that it made them uncomfortable. That it made them all want to run for cover as if we were getting ready to shoot lasers from our eyes and they didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. But I knew it didn’t. While I was bristling Christian was merely contemptuous and trying to make sure I knew it. Pointedly prodding at the sore spot that was our dinner the night before so I knew he had been right. And he was. And because of that he was gone. He had left me and he knew it pissed me off. He wasn’t trying to tell me, but he was, that he saw me completely differently now. He would be polite but never feel for me like he did before. I was beyond saving now. I knew I couldn’t broadcast that to him with a look but I tried. And I tried to tell him I didn’t care. But in a way I did. I guess my message came across because he turned away and pretended to help a girl with movie selection. I just guzzled my drink and didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the night.
Lindsey gave me a ride home. I didn’t want him to but he had decided that I was too drunk to drive. And he was probably right. I wasn’t planning on inviting him in but he simply followed me like a puppy and I couldn’t slam the door in his face. I didn’t tell him to leave. And I didn’t tell him to stop when he started kissing me and shuffling towards the bed room. I just let him.
I rarely dream. It’s just not my style. I don’t really know why. But that night I did. I dreamt one of those vivid dreams where everything feels painfully real. And I still remembered it when I woke up.
In my dream I was sitting on a park bench with Lindsey. We were eating ice cream, I think I recognized the cups but I wasn’t really paying attention. He was talking about something and I was trying to ignore him but I kept catching words or phrases. He was discussing work, his old job, the one he hated. I used to listen to him complain about his old job all the time but never gave any advice, who was I to give him that? Then suddenly he stopped and got really quiet. I asked him what was wrong but he still didn’t say anything.
“Lindsey,” I said, “You can tell me anything, what is it?”
“It’s nothing,” he told me. I scoffed at him and just went back to my ice cream.
Suddenly Christian was sitting between us, I’m not sure where he came from but that’s why it’s a dream. I went to look at Lindsey and suddenly he was there. I opened my mouth to say something but he held a finger to his mouth and I didn’t. In fact I don’t think I said anything else for the rest of the dream, just watched as Christian slid across the bench to slip his arm around Lindsey. I wanted to be upset or offended or anything but I felt entirely blank as I sat there and watched as Christian ran his nose up the side of Lindsey’s face and over his ear, which Lindsey hates, and began whispering in his ear. The two of them were suddenly completely oblivious that I was even there. If I’d been awake I probably would have said something or done something or some how made both a scene and an idiot out of myself but it was a dream and I just watched them blankly.
“Don’t try to get between those
two,” a voice said. I looked up to see Charles standing there, looking down at
me. “Trust me,” he continued, “I’ve tried.” He sat next to me, on the other
side from Lindsey and Christian. “You know what, Elizabeth? I don’t. I think
it’s you. I think it’s you that’s doing all this, that’s ruining everything
like this.” He laughed a quick little laugh. “You’d better get to the
hospital,” He said suddenly, got up, and just walked away. I almost yelled
after him, probably to demand to know what he was talking about but he wasn’t
there. I wasn’t on the park bench anymore, I was on
one of those weird padded benches that hospitals have for people who
emphatically don’t want to leave their loved ones alone after visiting hours.
I’ve never actually been in a hospital like this, but I’ve seen enough movies
and TV shows to have a pretty good idea what a
Then the door opened. I jumped a little, surprised. I expected a doctor to come out, I vaguely remembered one going in, but instead came two doctors and three nurses, one male, wheeling a hospital bed with a white sheet thrown over top.
“I hate it when this happens,” the male nurse said flatly. One of the female nurses, the redhead, was crying a little. She lifted the sheet a little and I caught a glimpse of Lindsey’s face, he looked like he was sleeping but I knew he wasn’t, Lindsey can never sleep with something over his face, you so much as brush a sheet over him and he’s immediately awake. The red haired nurse gave a weak little sob and dropped the sheet. The blond nurse turned to say something to me but one of the doctors, the one closest to her, grabbed her arm and pulled her away from me.
“Don’t talk to her,” he commanded. The nurse just nodded. And then they wheeled away. I just sat and watched them go away. Desperately I wanted to cry or die or anything, but I couldn’t. All I could do was sit and watch them roll down the never-ending hallway with a cold feeling lying heavily in my chest.
Usually, if I do dream at all, I
wake up with a start. But this time my eyes just fluttered open as if I’d slept
my full stint even if the clock did read
All contents on this and any other page on Complications is the intellectual property of Rebecca Moses.
