Cast & Fall (29 page)

I
felt a spiral of nausea again. I decided to lay my head. Tears
brimmed over and gushed, blurring my vision. It took a while for the
misty tears to finally stop, as if I’d been holding it in for
so long. I didn’t exactly know when I actually stopped crying
because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to another soaked
pillow.

I
slowly got up, feeling groggy. I stared at my face in the mirror, my
eyes too puffy and swollen to recognize. I splashed it with cold
water. It didn’t help.

Closing
my eyes, I decided to give it a good gentle rub with my cleanser.
After rinsing and patting my face dry, I knew the remnant of the
night before was here to haunt me the rest of the day. I decided to
put on an extra layer of eye shadow and liner to cover up all traces
of my long night of crying. I didn’t even know if I could
forgive myself yet for allowing my heart to be this devastated.

After
I was almost convinced that I looked pulled together, I changed my
clothes and headed downstairs. The following day was worst than ever.
The suspended image of the night before, clung to me like a dark
cloud, hovering like a bad headache. Driving to school, the slick
road didn’t help ease the lack of my concentration. The wildly
twisted tree branches shook, looking like haunting ghosts from a
distance.

As
I unwillingly recalled the incident of the night before, I felt
another wave of pain struck—like a dynamite just exploded
inside my gut. The dividing line between my heart and sanity seemed
too close, I wasn‘t sure how I was going to survive another
second—at least it felt like that. I wasn’t really
functioning. I felt like a zombie in the daylight, existing but not
feeling anything else but the agony. I felt like my heart was tearing
into small pieces and I didn’t know how I was going to patch
myself up. It wasn’t something that I could control, and as
much as I tried everything to distract myself, nothing helped. I was
grieving…a
nd
I really didn’t know why!

After
class, I decided to visit Josh. I haven’t seen him in a while
and I always felt like I had abandoned him somehow. It wasn’t
like I haven’t spoken to him every other day. But there was
something about him that comforts me. And for all the times I had
felt it, I always wondered if it was guilt. But, it really wasn’t
that. I knew that now. The thought of seeing him, makes me feel
hopeful somehow.

As
usual, Josh was excited to see me. We watched a movie on the sofa and
taught him how to bake a frozen pizza. I couldn’t believe how
he could be so bad at cooking that he didn’t even know how to
turn on a mini oven. Mrs. Bailey must have really spoiled him.

When
I got home, and after peeling the clothes I had worn that day, I
layered myself in a sweatshirt and a blanket. I sat down at the edge
of my bed, scanning my room. The room felt empty for the first time,
like something had changed, though, everything was exactly the way it
was since I left it this morning, and the way it had been for the
past week; a few dirty clothes were still piled on top of the hamper,
my papers and books still stacked the same way on top of my desk, my
bed had not been made. I ignored the voice in my head that told me to
pick up the mess in my room, the clutter in my head was so much worse
and I couldn’t focus much more than that.

I
planted my head on top of my pillow as I stared blankly on the white
ceiling, tracing the almost invisible patterns from the soft light
coming from my lamp. I moved, tossing and turning in bed. I decided I
was too restless to be able to sleep, instead, I let my mind wander
and decided to fix my thoughts on things that were pleasant; I
thought about how it would be like after graduating College, how
proud Steve would be, how I would feel, the moment when I finally
received my diploma. I thought about my future plans of going to
exotic places, my career, maybe help build a home, how about my own
house—how would I decorate it?...what would it look
like?...will I have a dog? A cat? A couple of horses?

After
my night
day
dreaming
had
ended in exhaustion, I was still too wound up to close my eyes—my
thoughts, going to the same dark, hollow space in my head. I finally
was able to sleep as one can sleep from just lying for hours. That
night was
when
the random dreams kept coming, clearer than I had dreamt before.

I
was standing on something unstable. At first, I wasn’t sure if
I was shaking or the ground from under me was moving. I found myself
in a boat. It was dark. Gazing at the dark water, I was automatically
afraid. I wasn’t sure why I was alone, but I knew I was cold. I
touched my hair, feeling the misty wet from the rain. I huddled in
the corner to keep warm. I couldn’t get inside the cabin. It
started pouring now. Lightning and thunder blinked as I curled myself
into the tiny crevice that I slithered into, not wanting to move as I
felt the hurricane-like wind, whipped through me. I held my arms,
feeling the goose bumps and the shiver from the wind, turning
violent. I knew I was dreaming and tried to wake myself up. After the
gasping effort of trying to resuscitate my mind from the dream, I
decided to let the dream continue.

I
closed my eyes for a brief second and when I opened them, light
flooded everything.
My
vision drowned in the bright sunlight. It took me a second to fix my
eyes on the blinding light that suddenly hovered across from me; my
mind following on the
spectacle
of what was in my view—the massive ocean was sparkly
blue—crystal clear. It looked absolutely spectacular. I
suddenly questioned why I was so afraid. I
automatically
felt peaceful without trying. I got up and held on to the
railing—taking
in
the beauty as far as I could see. I didn’t feel afraid. The
wind that rustled my hair didn’t feel cold. It felt perfect.

I
woke up to the sound of my alarm clock, feeling and remembering
everything in clear detail. I was a little upset with myself for
forgetting to turn off my alarm since it was the weekend and
obviously, I didn’t have class and didn’t need to wake
earlier than necessary.

I
squeezed myself into my skinny jeans, feeling like a muffin. I
groaned at myself, looking in the mirror. This is one of those days,
when I didn’t feel like being seen in public, but feeling too
relaxed to care too much and put the effort into pulling a
mini-makeover. I settled on twisting my hair in a bun and pinning it.
I went grocery shopping and decided that, that was all I was going to
do for the rest of the morning.

The
dreaded noon came. I had to work. I knew I had to face
him
at some point.
I’m
going to see him tonight
.
The thought made my heart leap with joy briefly and as fast as the
first emotion came, it plunged deep into the dark abyss of my silent
anguish. I was mortified by my own erratic emotions. But I sighed
into a relief of resolution when I saw the schedule, and realized, he
won’t be coming in until later that day. My shift ran faster
and smoother than I expected and I was glad I’m on my way home.

“
Hey
Becca, I invited Josh instead to the concert.” She was barely
coming in. I tried to make my voice sound casual and low. I wasn’t
ready for Becca to throw me a hundred questions about Tristan and
what had happened a couple of nights ago.

“
Oh…?”
before she could start with her interrogations, I interrupted her.
I
never want to hear his name ever again!.

“
Well,
I really wanted to bring Josh, cheer him up. He needs to get out.
He’ll pick me up and we’ll swing by your place.”
She seemed to have read my mood on edge and my careless attitude.

“
Yeah…sure,”
she said, her eyes worried. I was glad she didn’t pull her
nosy-Becca-
attitude—I
must look that bad. Or maybe she felt regret. After all, she was the
one who
forced
Tristan to take me out.

From
across the room, from the corner of my eyes, Tristan was already at
work and was jotting down orders from a group of people that started
to get rowdy. They looked familiar and apparently all went to Andrews
given by the fact that they were all wearing the school shirts, which
looked like they just came from a game.

As
soon as Tristan took their orders, he headed by my direction. It was
already four o’clock, my shift was over and I was about to
leave, when he stopped me. He proceeded slowly but his words were
firm.

“
Katheryna,
we need to talk!” he commanded. His voice sounded furious, the
urgency in his voice was evident.

“
About
what? I have nothing to say to you.” I sounded braver than I
felt. I knew I needed to be able to deal with him. And for a brief
moment, I felt genuine regret for not letting Becca get him fired
that first day.
What
I wouldn’t give to get him off my thoughts, and him, away from
my still raw and too trampled heart
.

“
Please...it‘s
important,” he said in an authoritative tone—almost
parental. I knew it
wasn’t
a good idea, but my feet automatically followed him before my mind
could protest.
You
really need to start quitting him at some point!—m
y
subconscious growled at me. I followed him to the employee lounge. He
pushed the door and it swung open. The room was empty.

“
Ok
talk,” I hissed. My voice now ignoring all subtlety. Though, a
very—very small
weak
part of me,
couldn’t hide a hint of hope in my heart. I was hoping for him
to say that he takes it all back, that he made a mistake and that we
could be friends and maybe even more, but I knew that couldn’t
be it—
hope
is simply a friend
I couldn’t afford to have. It would simply kill me. I lashed
out at her before I tuned my thoughts back on
him
.

“
I
don’t want you to go out with Josh to the concert!” His
voice an order. The other emotions behind them, hidden.
“
What?
How did you hear about that?” His statement caught me off
guard.

“
Never
mind how I knew about it. You just can’t go with him or anyone
else for that matter…at least not right now.” I could
sense the tension in his voice rising, but it wasn’t enough to
deter me from the anger that has now exploded in me; my anger
flared—the brush of fire relentless.

“
Who
do you think you are! you have no say in who I can…and cannot
go with.” I could hear the sharp tone coming out of my lips,
like a battle was raging inside me.

“
Look,
you don’t know him,” Tristan yelled. The mean edge in his
voice magnified.”

“
And
I don’t know—YOU!,” I countered.

“
You’re
not the best judge at trusting anyone.”

“
Don’t
treat me like I’m incompetent, please stop acting like my
father or that I mean anything to you. You made it perfectly clear
that you can’t be with me, not that I even asked you to, so you
shouldn’t even be talking to me,” I growled.

He
seemed to have swallowed his words. He was perfectly still and
suddenly silent, even though, it seemed like he had a lot to say.
But, before he could say anything else or come up with another
insignificant reason for why things should be, I slammed the door
behind me as I bolted out of the room. I heard the door slam shut in
finality—wishing, hoping, my heart would stay the same—stay
sealed for him not to ever enter my thoughts. I couldn’t stay
there any longer. I felt like I would suffocate, explode or both
.

Who
does he think he is! He didn’t want to be with me, so why does
he care
?
But my anger quickly melted faster than my pain. I wanted to push my
emotions back as
deeply
buried as much as I could, but I could feel the strength of my will
slipping away.

My
heart started aching. I didn’t like fighting with Tristan, even
though, he wasn’t anything to me. I hated the idea that I hurt
him in some way, in any way. It was such an irrational feeling. I
should be furious, but instead I wanted to go back and tell him that
I will do as he asked. It took everything in me to fight what my
heart wanted me to do.

I
found myself coming back to the lounge. After I had resurfaced from
the bathroom, I had realized, I needed to get my purse. I allowed
plenty of time before I went back. My mind was still twisting on a
clash of emotions I could hardly understand.
Why couldn’t I
just forget about him? Why do I care so much?
As I begun to
irritate my own self by my unhealthy emotions, his presence made me
jump once again, a tendency I have whenever he's around. I didn’t
hear him walk in, but there he was, with the heat that could melt
ice, while burning you with the coldness of his stare.