But anyway, enjoy
Chapter 2 – How Honestly and Truly Pathetic I am
I’d come to the conclusion that if I stayed in the windowless room for long enough maybe my heart would stop beating and I wouldn’t have to live through this never-ending nightmare anymore. To no one’s surprise, my theory wasn’t correct. So, I found myself being scraped up off the floor with what little strength I had left. I trudged my feet up the dimly lit stairs to the ground floor. I continued on through the living room and opened the sliding door, wandering into the rain. Mom called after me, horrified, but my mind was elsewhere.
“Rory, what are you doing?!” She hissed from inside.
I traded my place on the floor of the basement for a spot on the wet grass. I loved rainy weather. It was the only time the world looked as hideous on the outside as I felt on the inside. Those tiny drops of evil felt so good on my skin; cold, wet and desolate. They landed together on the ground in a mush of nothingness that no one wanted around.
I suppose I loved the rain so much because it gave me a reason to be dead inside and blame it on something other than myself. And as insane as that may sound, it was true. The rain gave me an excuse to act the way I truly felt and not, even ineffectively, put on an act for everyone else. I was sick of acting, of fighting; sick of being sick of everything. I’d lost my last stores of spirit. I felt like a rainy day every second of every day and if I couldn’t change that, I at least wanted to act like I felt.
I remembered the last time I was out in the rain. It was almost two months before, when life was shit, but considerable less so. I was at Stuart McKinley’s party and was searching frantically for my completely trashed best friend, Blakely. She’d thrown back numerous Vodka and Coke’s in the whole fifty-three minutes we had been there. While she was probably having a phenomenal time, I most certainly was not. I felt phenomenally flustered, claustrophobic and frankly, quite lonely. All around the poorly lit, smoky room there were kids kissing passionately – on floors, table tops, sofas, everywhere – and seeing them doesn’t do much for the sad and heart-wrenchingly alone. Watching them want each other so forcefully in those few fleeting moments turned my stomach in on itself. I hated it, even if they were drunk, high and probably didn’t even know each other.
I came to a classmate’s party and I could only put names to half of the faces in the room. Emos in the corner, Jocks on the couch, Partiers by the music. The Populars were in the corner of the lounge, choking on their cigarettes like true rebels.
Theo Murray was on the other side of the room with his girlfriend, Vera. They were – gasp! – making out against a wall.
Vera could be tolerable in some ways and not so much in others. But Theo, well, I wanted to scratch his eyes out in every way imaginable. He dressed like a lion tamer, never shut up and had that arrogant, shallow vibe about him that most American males do. It was just too tedious trying to keep up with his never ending social charade of a life. He was pretty much Mr. Popular King of the World. Whoop-dee-doo.
Blakely had a thing for him, which was just too predictable for words. Every girl I knew had a thing for him. Their eyes fixated on him, their hands longed for him and their minds mentally undressed him. Pools of drool practically followed him around.
I tore my eyes away from him and Vera, annoyed that I was even wasting my time on them. Instead, I continued on my mission to find Blakely.
I staggered around for a bit, searching for her sunny blond hair in the crowd. Smoke of various kinds rose to the ceiling in unison. There were so many people you couldn’t see you own feet on the ground. Thanking God for making me tall, I scanned my eyes over the hoards of sweaty teens and spotted one of the rare people I knew.
“Kyle!” I screamed over the pumping music. Screaming was unlike me, but I was desperate. Blakely was more than likely choking on her own puke somewhere, and that took precedence over my moronic fear of speaking to anyone.
Kyle was Theo’s best friend. He was considerably less good-looking, and much more approachable than Theo. He smiled goofily and made his way over to me. “Hey Dudette, what’s up?” His grinned dropped a little. “Oh, that bad, is it?”
His pupils were extraordinarily large in the hazy room. But, no, let’s not blame the dark; let’s blame drugs. “Have you seen Blakely?” I asked hopefully.
His dilated pupils shifted sideways as he thought. “Uh, nope.”
I sighed. “Yeah, didn’t think so. Thanks anyway.”
I turned to continue looking for her, but Kyle grabbed my hand and I twirled back immediately. “Hey Rory, I was just wondering-”
“I’m sorry Kyle,” I said and twisted my wrist out of his grip, “I really need to find Blakely.”
He chuckled softly. “You,” He breathed and grabbed my face in both his hand, "Are so pretty. Want to make out?"
"Yeah, no thanks." I said awkwardly and slipped my way out of his grip.
Mystified and slightly scared I drifted towards the toilets and went in, not regarding the line of people waiting outside. There were a few moans of protest, but they faded into the background.
After a precious ten seconds of relative silence, a stream of relentless knocking came at the door.
“You know, cutting the line for the bathroom goes against every law ever created, right? It’s Un-American!” It was Theo, no doubt about it. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. He opened the door and closed it behind him. I was sitting on the floor.
He put the lid of the toilet down and sat. “What is wrong with you?”
I shrugged and looked straight ahead. “Most things.”
“She speaks!” He yelled sarcastically. I turned my head rigidly and gave him an icy stare. “Jeez, I was kidding.”
I returned to looking at the door. “What if I had been puking or peeing or something in here?”
“I knew you weren’t.” He said flatly. “And besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
I could not believe what he was wearing. Lion. Tamer. Who in their right mind wears a fedora hat, suspenders, skinny jeans and Chucks all in one outfit? In face, who wears most of those things at all?
“What do you want, Theodore?”
“Theodore.” He chuckled, playing with the toilet paper. “It’s a bathroom and you cut in front of me. I’m entitled to ruin your life.”
I rolled my eyes at his stupid crack. “Your idiot friend Kyle just asked me if I wanted to make out and I can't find Blakely. I just needed some space to think.
He let out a huge laugh and his chocolate hair flopped in his eyes. “He asked you if you wanted to make out?!”
“Do you know where she is?” I pressed.
“I’ve always wanted to make out with someone in a bathroom.” He babbled suddenly in a far away voice. I thought he might have been hinting something but pushed the thought out of my head the second after it entered.
I squinted harshly at him. “Thanks for sharing.”
“It’s kinda funny,” he continued. “You never do or say anything I think you’re going to.”
“Do you know where Blakely is?” I asked again quietly.
“That’s exactly what I mean!” He laughed excitedly like it was some discovery and I didn’t act like that every day of my life. “You don’t react to anything.”
I grunted, getting frustrated with this stupid conversation. “Look, have you seen her or not?”
“Jeez, Miss Bossy-Pants. I think I saw her going upstairs with Stuart, but I don’t know. It could have been some other slutty blond in a ludicrously tight mini skirt and synthetic blue stilettos.”
I gaped at him. “So, basically, she’s upstairs going at it with Stuart?”
He smiled, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah?”
I buried my head in my hands and groaned. “Thanks for telling me sooner. She’s only my best friend.”
“Well, I’m so-rry, but it’s not like it was a surprise to see her going upstairs with a random guy. Wasn’t exactly something I hadn’t seen before.”
“Thank you for pointing out she’s slut of the century. You two would be perfect for each other.” I got up and grabbed for the door. “Excuse me, I have to go get my whore now.”
“Dude, chillax. Let them have their fun. She’ll be fine.” He mused in a mellow voice.
“She’s completely wasted. She isn’t fine.”
“Stuart is totally in love with her. Come on, come and hang with me and you can get her later.”
“Oh wow, he’s in love with her now, is he? Well that changes everything.” I said sarcastically. “Theo, if you think a quick fuck at a party is the definition for love, then I really do feel sorry for you.” I turned the handle violently and flung myself up the steep stairs. He followed close behind me.
“Just go away, will you?” I hissed through my teeth.
“I want to help.” He whined. “I feel bad, about what I just said. You obviously feel strongly about all that falling in love crap.”
I ran over to the first door and blasted it open. No Blakely in sight. “Wow, you’re good at being an asshole. Did you learn how to do that when we were kids or does it just come naturally now?” I enquired sarcastically. “I’m so sorry if it’s such a crime to think that love might actually mean something, Your Royal Highness, Sir.”
He knocked on the next door and opened it cautiously. He closed it again. “I’m not an asshole, Lovett. I just think love is a joke. No one can really feel like that about another person. It simply doesn’t happen that way. People are always going to break your heart and those three words don’t change that.”
I rolled my eyes. What a drama queen. “Just wait until you fall in love.”
He opened another door to find a girl curled over a toilet bowl. He slammed it shut. “I won’t.”
I stopped dead and looked him straight in the face. “How can you be so sure? You used to believe in love too, Theo. I haven’t forgotten. We may have been twelve, but I remember.”
“Well, I’m not twelve anymore.” He said and looked meaningfully at me for a second before opening the last of the doors in the hallway. I thought he must have been joking but there were no signs on his face to indicate that he was. I was going to say something back until I glanced in the room he’d just opened and found Blakely and Stuart on a bed, doing things I’d rather never – ever, ever - see again.
“Blakely Dunham!” I screamed and stormed into the room.
She turned around, widened her intoxicated eyes dramatically and scrambled off Stuart immediately. “Rory, I,” She tried to say in her drunken stupor.
“Outside, now!” I hissed at her. She gathered up her random strewn garments erratically, looking humiliated as she pressed pass Theo in the doorway.
“And you,” I directed at Stuart who looked like a terrified three-year-old girl by now, “Better freaking love her and be utterly ashamed of yourself.”
He held a sheet around himself and nodded frantically. “Y-yes, ma’am.” He stuttered.
I wasn’t sure if he was saying yes to loving her, being ashamed of himself or just because he was scared of me, but quite frankly I couldn’t have cared less. I was too preoccupied with my partially naked, mostly stupid and completely wasted best friend standing in the hallway.
“Get your clothes on, will you?!” I yelled at her after closing Stuart in the room.
“Sheesh, Mom,” She hiccupped and stumbled, “I’m doing it, okay?”
Theo did his part by helping her put her shoes and jacket on. He’d managed to keep a hold of his blab-tastic mouth for a whole five seconds, and amongst all the drama, I was actually quite impressed.
“Thanks,” I said to him and held onto Blakely by the waist. I started to head down the stairs and exit to this stuffy place.
“Where are you going?” Theo yelled from the landing.
“I have to get her home.”
“But it’s raining!” He protested over the music.
“I have to get her home!” I repeated and hauled her through the masses of people in the entrance.
“I’m s-sorry Rory. You’re mad, aren’t you? You’re mad with me, I know it.” She whispered in my ear. She began to cry into my hair.
“Oh, don’t cry.” I moaned. “I’m not mad.”
She stumbled over her feet and made my job even harder. “You’re not mad?”
“No.” I assured her and finally got both of us outside the house. I knew I should have brought my car, but we both lived so close to Stuart’s house that I didn’t think it necessary. I made sure both our phones were somewhere the water couldn’t reach and then walked from under the porch and onto Stuart’s lawn. It was a hell of a lot colder than I thought it was going to be.
“Rory, it’s raining! It’s raining!” She screamed.
“Yes, Honey, it’s raining. The sky does that sometimes. Now hurry up so we can get you home.” I said and pulled us both onto the hard tar of the street. The heavy drops drummed painfully against our skin.
“But Rory, my shoes!” She squealed and made me trying to get her home in the poor visibility all that much more difficult.
“Oh, that’s what those are?!” I yelled sarcastically. “They’re non-biodegradable, Sweetie. Hundreds of years of being buried underground aren’t going to do anything to them, I’m sure a little water will be fine.”
“Bio-what?” She asked, perplexed. “Don’t use all those big words, Rory. You know I’m not smart like you.”
I didn’t say anything after that. I was trying to figure out whether her mom would be passed out by now or not, or if she’d even be home at all. But once we got to their tiny house and opened the front door with ease, it was confirmed that yes, her mom was there and she was indeed unconscious on the couch.
I dragged Blakely into their bathroom and sat her down next to the toilet. She was much closer to the throwing-up-all-over-the-place section of this episode now than before. After that was done it’d be the much less messy passing-out-to-a-state-close-to-death section.
It played out exactly the way it had a million times before. She’d managed to miss the bowl completely and pass out directly after. Reluctantly, I cleaned up the mess, dragged her to bed and wandered into their jail cell of a kitchen to find something to eat. I opened the fridge to find moldy cheese, a jar of pickles and an empty can of soda.
I sighed, and slammed the door shut. Finally, I returned to Blakely's room and fell asleep at her side to make sure she didn’t die on me tonight.
