She sits in history, minding her own business when he breaks her heart for the thousandth time since its happened. One sigh. One stupid god damn gust of mint flavored breath in her direction and that was all it took. All it took to bring her back, all it took to ruin her day.
*****
She tells herself it’s OK, life’s about living right? Yes, most definitely- that’s a perfect excuse for what she’s about to do. She sneaks quietly through the back door, across the deck, out of the hole in the fence, down the alley way and onto the main road. It’s twelve thirty five in the morning New Year’s Eve, and for some fucked up reason she’s decided to finally say yes. In twelve more hours people will be popping champagne and lighting of firework and this will all be over.
Her boots make compacting crunches in the snow as she walks down her street. It’s weird how light it is out, even without the street lights she would be able to navigate. So lost in thought, so intent in her destination, she doesn’t notice the laughter until it’s too late. Two guys. Roughly twenty five and drunk. They’ve seen her and if she turns and runs know they might chase her. The best option is to just walk past them like the true bad ass she isn’t and pray to God they won’t grab her. They laugh but she walks out of the danger zone scratch free. Once she hit’s the corner she runs with everything she’s got.
Past the mayors house, her mom’s friend’s house, the open field, a long row of druggie houses. . .
Her path takes her along all the back roads until the bridge because she’s scared of the cars on main street. I’m mean who the hell is out at midnight New Year’s Eve anyway? Ironically she laughs and says me. She walked across the road and to the little spot by the side of the river so car’s headlights can’t find her as she waits. He calls and asks where she is. Has his voice ever sounded more inviting? More completely desirable? It makes her tongue stick and her mouth form the words a second too late.
I’m cold.
Wow that was a most brilliant answer, she comments mentally.
Then come find me and I’ll warm you up.
Her fingers dig into her palm so she can keep talking.
I’m scared to cross the bridge.
It’s a lame excuse but it’s true unfortunately.
I’m right on the other side, by the railroad tracks, come on babe.
She hangs up and walks slowly across, finding him standing there next to one of the highway over pass supports. Everything is better now, she will be safe, nothing can hurt her.
He hugs her and his hand lingers too low making her jump and squeak while he just laughs. They walk on, making small talk. She knows it’s awkward- this is the her first time doing anything with anyone and his first time doing anything with her, they both know what’s going to happen and all that’s left is the wait.
Over the old rail road tracks, across main street downtown, through flagpole park and onto the trail. It’s exceptionally pretty consider the ghastly thing that’s about to happen; white skeleton trees, blanket covered trail and pretty purple skies. Dogs bark in the distance when they finally make it.
They creep through the cul-de-sac in the only clown town in the neighborhood- every house looks exactly the same minus wall color- and in through the unlocked back door of an unoccupied house. Closer and closer they get to the actual event, she turns up the heat because it’s freezing and he pulls her into the master closet. They both sit there for a few seconds but he isn’t afraid and leans in.
She’s confused.
This isn’t what she was expecting. Where’s the definition? The lines? All she’s getting is this weird undeterminable mix of lips and teeth and tongue and gums and stubble which he needs to shave, but she likes it so she follows along. She likes the sounds he makes when he breathes, how he sighs, the taste of mint gum in his mouth, how his hands move over her. . . .
Suddenly they’re moving into the front of her shirt and she doesn’t like it. She mumbles a no against his lips pushes the hands away, he laughs and they continue. Then a few seconds later they’re back again, persistent little things. This time she pulls back and actually says no. He leans away too.
Come on babe.
-I don’t want to.
Why not? Come one it’s not like I’m gonna rape you.
-. . . . . .
Would you at least take something off then?
She sighs and takes of her shirt. He laughs and says now the other one. She, after some coaxing, takes off the undershirt. Unfortunately in a matter of minutes her shirts and pants are gone, so are his.
The process begins again, except he moves his finger swiftly to her back and undoes the clasp, it falls down and she says what the hell as she takes her arms out of the straps, it’s not like she can just run away and this is better then sitting in silence.
His hands have obviously done this before and they make her feel comfortable. It’s then that her mind breaks through the veil of delusions and clearly sets out the facts. She is naked besides for some tie die undies, making out and getting felt up by her best friends ex-boyfriend (By only a week so it‘s still considered cheating) in the master closet of someone’s future home at one a.m. New Years Eve. She realized how sincerely fucked up this is and starts to shake uncontrollably.
He mistakes it for a shiver and advises her to lay on his chest, she does because she has no idea what else to do, and he pulls his snowboarding jacket over her. His chest is hot and she actually almost falls asleep. They lay there for about another hour before they put on there clothes and leave. Now the trail doesn’t seem so pretty, it’s taunting; skeleton trees reaching out to laugh at her, snow to leave tracks and lead people to the crime scene.
Main Street down town is eerie, all the street lights are one and all the neon signs flash but no ones there, except for a inconsequential pair of head lights at the end of the long stretch. Not soon enough they reach the bridge. There is no hug, no goodbye kiss, just a few quiet seconds before she says goodbye and starts to walk away.
It is so quiet. She walks down the middle of the main road because she’s scared and mad and tired and disgusted with herself and at the moment would not care if a car ran her over. It’s the most overwhelming feeling of loneliness and abandonment and oh-god-I-shouldn’t-be-here. Then and there she makes a resolution; she will never again be the girl that has to walk home in the dark, that has to hide in the bushes every time some stupid car comes, she will not be that girl ever again.
She finally reaches a safe street to turn off on and runs all the way back- ignoring the dogs barking and the lack of air in her chest and the sharp pain in her stomach and legs.
When she gets home she ignores the fact that her door is wide open and her mom has realized she’s snuck out, she ignores the urge to change into pajamas because she feels the germs of a skank crawling all over her, she ignores the urge to cry herself to sleep and just falls into bed hoping to wake up and have this all be a dream.
When she opens her eyes the dream has turned into a nightmare.
*****
Everyone knows. Every person sitting in this God forsaken fifth period history class knows what a ho she is and what happened between her and the boy sitting in the next row back and everyone knows how he asked for his ex-girlfriend, her best friend sitting next to him, to take him back because he realized how badly he’d fucked up, that that girl was a nothing and come on babe it’ll never happen again, please I love you.
She hates him. She hates him so fucking much that it makes her heart tremble. She’s cried herself to sleep for the past four months over this whole shit fest of a situation and he don’t give a damn, and the funny part is that she gives a damn that he doesn’t care. It hurts desperately to be a nothing.
She will never again side with the girl who got cheated on; yeah she knows, boohoo for you- dump him you obviously deserve better, but no one ever looks at the situation from the cheat-ees side, I mean obviously her situation is different considering it was her my best friends recently-ex boyfriend, but other wise the cheat-ee isn’t doing anything wrong, she isn’t the one technically cheating and obviously she cares for this person.
But no one see’s it like that. All they say is oh you poor thing, I can’t believe she would do that to you, of course they don’t say anything about the fact that her boyfriend was cheating too, no one takes the cheat-ees side, ever. The cheat-ee comes away with nothing what so ever except grief. They just get called names and glared at, but do people realize how much it hurts her?
How often its cause her to wish, beg for an end to this perpetual pain, for death? Pain every time she see them hug, pain every time she passes him in the hall, pain every time he texts her and she can’t respond.
I hate you. I hate your stupid hair and your stupid clothes. I hate the way you talk, the way you walk. I hate the way you call her babe and the way you touch her. I hate the way people look at me now. I hate what you’ve made me.
I hate you the way you keep sighing and blowing your breath towards me, yes me sitting right in front of you wishing I hate a gun, wishing I could just make it end. I hate how you made a nothing.
But worst of all, I hate how I still love you.
