by C. Sunrise
I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand to check the time, noticing a list of texts, missed calls, and voicemails from Kace, Bel, and Percy. I don’t have the energy, or interest, to deal with that right now.
Since my parents leave for their trip soon, I decide to get up and go have a shower. It’s time to prepare for my daughter of the year performance, so they go on their trip and I get the space I so dearly need right now.
I throw on some yoga pants and a t-shirt, trying to keep it casual without screaming ‘I’m an emotional disaster’ with my wardrobe. I towel dry my hair and throw it in a quick, messy braid.
Good enough.
As I stand there looking at myself in the mirror, I can feel myself going to a dark place. It’s a place I’ve never been before. Yes, you could say I lived a sheltered life. Before my twenty-fifth birthday, the most dramatic events in my life were getting an A-minus instead of my usual A-plus on a report in high school and the time our cat ran away when I was a kid.
My emotions are all fighting to come to the surface. My body acting as a cauldron for all the sadness, the hurt, the feelings of betrayal, and the anger boiling within me.
I take a few deep breaths and remind myself again that parents are leaving soon. Then I will have the entire place to myself to soak in my misery. Just one more performance.
I can do this.
“Good morning, Momma and Papa,” I say with my best happy voice as I approach them by the front door. “I hope you weren’t trying to leave without saying goodbye.”
Boom! I face-plant on that damn soft rug again.
Oh well, at least I can use that to explain my splotchy face and still slightly red eyes from crying. Good one.
I pop up to my feet and Papa shakes his head at me before they both stare at me, carefully observing my state. Afraid they will see through my act, I pull out the biggest smile possible and wave my hand at them. I hold the dorky smile for as long as possible until my cheeks twitch.
Who knew smiling was such hard work?
Finally, and much to my relief, Momma answers my question, “We were just about to come up and check on your sleepy butt and see if you were going to get up today.” She smiles warmly.
“You’re both lucky I graced you with my presence this morning,” I reply with my hands on my hips and moving my head side to side—a classic display of sass. “You know how much I value my sleep. I hope you enjoy your trip. You better take lots of pictures.”
I stare at them pointedly and they both smile and nod. I’m thinking if this vet thing doesn’t work out for me, I may have a future as an actor. I should note that in my journal.
“We will, thank you, Kitten.” You can hear the excitement in Momma’s voice, masking the underlying guilt. “Please remember to call us anytime you need anything okay, Kitten.”
“Of course. Now get out of here before you miss your plane!” I shoo them with my hands.
Papa wraps me in his arms and squeezes me, trapping me in his signature teddy bear hug. “Take care of yourself while we’re away,” he whispers in my ear. “And thank you, Pup. Don’t forget to read the books I set aside for you in the office.”
I nod and he releases me, and Momma immediately takes his place and wraps me in another tight, although slightly less bone-crushing, embrace.
They both say I love you and make their way out the door and to the SUV outside. Percy offered to drive them to the airport, so they don’t have to pay someone to pick them up or to leave their vehicle there. They all turn and wave to me as they drive down the driveway, Momma blowing rapid-fire kisses with both hands.
I exhale the breath I was holding in once they are out of view. All the emotions I was holding back crashing to the surface as soon as I close the front door. I turn around, slamming my body against the door and sliding down to the floor. I’m so overwhelmed that I feel... nothing.
My life is a dark blur for the next two weeks. I wasn’t living anymore; I was simply existing. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Go to bed. And repeat.
I don’t exercise; I don’t watch any movies—sorry Ace. I don’t read any stories, and I definitely don’t read the books Papa left out for me.
I do nothing. Time just passes by.
I feel nothing.
I want nothing.
I don’t talk to anyone. Not even Kace. I know that isn’t fair to Kace; he didn’t keep secrets from me my entire life like everyone else, but he is best friends with Jay, who is dating Bel. I don’t want him to have to choose between me and them. Besides, I want to be alone right now.
I don’t respond to messages. I don’t go on social media.
I’ve lost myself.
At least my hair and eyes are back to normal. They seem to be staying that way too. Bonus.
I’m surviving on pizza and junk food. I’ve had so much ice cream that I’m sure I’m part owner of Ben & Jerry’s now. I watch the housekeepers struggle to pack up my pizza boxes and ice cream containers, which makes me think I should go to the farmers’ market today and try to find something healthy to eat.
Home-made cinnamon buns are healthy, right?
I love the farmers’ market. So many booths set up with fresh fruits and vegetables and home-made delectables, crafts, and natural toiletries and beauty products. Everyone is always friendly. Some people even bring their dogs to say hello, and we all know I’m a sucker for animals. The farmers’ market has always been one of those feel-good atmospheres for me.
Well, that’s how I usually felt about the farmers’ market. Today, I walk past the booths and stare at the wide variety of items with indifference. Nothing looks appealing to me. I grab some fruit, vegetables, and baked goods. I’m like an emotionally detached robot making my way through the rows of booths and stands, avoiding conversations and donning a mechanical smile.
As I turn the corner to make my way down the last row, I see them. Bel, Jay, and Kace stand at a booth at the end of the row. They are trying on home-made knitted toques shaped like animal heads. They seem happy. I feel my heart twinge as I watch them. My breath quakes as I feel the emotions I’ve been suppressing fighting to come back to the surface.
I can’t do this. I can’t be here. It aches. I can’t breathe.
Bel looks past Kace’s shoulder and sees me standing there frozen in place staring back at them. Her face twists in a mixture of emotions, but longing is the most prominent.
I need to go. Now.
She waves and the boys turn to see who she’s waving at, not expecting to see me standing there, so close yet so far away. A smile spreads across Kace’s face as his eyes connect with mine. Without even so much as blinking to ease the burning sensation building in my eyes, I turn and hurry back to my car. My feet pick up the pace with each step.
I leave, not because I hate them, it’s just too hard to be around them. It hurt too much, and I’m not ready to talk to anyone. I don’t know what to say or how I feel about everything yet, and I definitely don’t enjoy the looks of pity. So, it’s easier to pretend no one is there.
They all deserve to be happy, and I don’t want to drag them down with me—like the animals at work who sense my pain. Instead of greeting me with the usual excitement and wagging tails, they approach with their tails, heads, and ears down. It crushes my heart every time I see this. I try to act happy around the animals, but they seem to sense the truth. I can’t stand to see the way my pain is affecting other people and animals. This led me to eventually take sick leave from work.
Completely isolated from the outside world, I can now stop making everyone so sad. Emotional contagion can be a real bitch sometimes.
I hide in my parent’s house. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my feelings. Alone with my alcohol.
I’ve never been a big drinker and I don’t know what lead me to this point, but I know I’m not making good, rational decisions right now. Sometimes you do stupid things when you let your emotions take over—things you normally wouldn’t do. You make bad choices. You
push yourself further away from the things that could help you heal and pull yourself towards things that don’t help you at all.
That’s what I’m doing. Numbing the pain. Ignoring my problems.
My alcohol infused pity-party goes on for several days until, finally, something is triggered deep inside me.
I’m enjoying a party for two in my room with my friend Tequila—singing and dancing and yelling my frustrations at my mirror. I love Tequila. Tequila doesn’t judge. Tequila doesn’t lie. Tequila has my back. Tequila won’t break my heart.
Suddenly the song I am not My Hair by India.Arie and Akon blares from my speakers. The words spark something within me. I feel warm inside. Not from the tequila. Well, maybe from the tequila too. But something feels different; something’s stirring.
I sing the words as loud as possible. There’s something so liberating about yelling the worlds of a song that so accurately speaks to your current state and empowers you to be more. I’m sure they could hear me all the way in Sydney, Australia.
“Preach girl!” I shout at the source of music, a pair of small speakers on my desk. “And you too, Acorn! Preach, brother!”
I pause for a second and giggle. “Acorn?”
That’s too good.
I break down into a fit of laughter, ending up on the ground with a laughter induced stomach-ache.
“Akon,” I clarify to my friend, Tequila. “I said Akon not Acorn.” I pause again, deep in thought. “What was I talking about? Chipmunks? Squirrels? Oh yeah! I am not my fudging colour changing hair and eyes!” I feel my confidence returning. “I am not a freak! I am Whoopsie Fudging Daisy!” I wave my bottle of Tequila all over the place as I cheer myself on.
“This hot woman needs to get out of this house,” I tell Tequila, slow dancing with the bottle in front of me. “But first, let’s show the world just how hot Whoopsie is!”
I stagger to the guest room Bel claimed years ago. I know she’ll have some good bar-star type clothes in the closet. She has always been more confident and bolder with her clothing choices than I am, and she wears it well. She’s one of those people who looks great in any style.
“Perfect!” I pull out a dark red crop top that looks more like a sports bra with multiple criss-crossing straps and a short, tight black skirt. I continue digging through the closet, looking for the one thing my bold outfit is missing.
Perfect.
I pull out a pair of above the knee red high heel boots. Total hooker boots.
Go big or go home, right?
I go back to my room and use my flatiron to turn my bedhead hairstyle into a beach wave. Then I throw on some makeup—smoky eyes and deep red lipstick.
Hello bombshell. If Bel were here, she would likely spontaneously combust seeing me dressed up like this.
I grab my car keys and walk downstairs—another terrible decision to add to my ongoing list. Fortunately, I find myself unable to successfully unlock my car using the key fob—instead setting off the alarm twice and repeatedly locking the doors. Frustrated and gaining enough awareness to realise that was a bad decision in the first place, I walk back into the house and call myself a cab.
I’m almost sober by the time the cab shows up—one downside to living out of town. I don’t recognise the driver which is a relief. We drive to my destination in silence.
“Welcome to The Den”, reads a large wooden sign as we pull into the massive parking lot at the resort. Below the words, there is a wolf howling at the moon carved into the wood.
I wonder if Papa modelled for the sign. I chuckle at the thought.
We pull up in front of the building and I pay the driver and thank him before stepping out and walking towards the main doors. This is the only club in our small town. There’s a lounge-style bar inside that opens up to a night club like area, and a rooftop bar with a dance floor that is open when the weather is warm. It’s very popular with the locals and the tourists, especially those staying at the resort. It is the place to go for nightlife in our relatively small town.
The nights have been unusually warm lately, so the resort has kept the rooftop portion of the bar open. I take advantage of the warm weather too and head up to the rooftop.
This was my first time coming here without attending a special event and my first time coming here alone, but if this is the new me, then I’m sure I’ll get to know this place well.
“Let’s get this party started!” I shout at the bartender as I slap my hand on the counter. She laughs and shakes her head.
“Looks like you already got the party started, yeah?” She asks with a wink. “What can I get ya, beautiful?”
“I’m feeling brave tonight, so how about you surprise me,” I suggest. She nods and turns towards the wall of bottles behind her.
I turn and scan the rooftop club. It’s fairly busy tonight, especially for a Wednesday night. It’s not busy like a big city night club, but busy enough to keep the servers going. I noticed a sign for some a convention at the resort as I walked in and those things always bring a few people to the bar. There also appears to be a large group of people celebrating a birthday or something like that.
I notice two large men standing by the railing, looking out towards the water. I can’t see their faces, but I’m enjoying the view from behind. They’re both very tall, one is slightly more built than the other. A smirk forms on my face as I continue openly checking them out. Their light blonde hair glows in the moonlight, picking up the bright colours from the stage lighting every time it beams in their direction. They’re both wearing black slacks and black button-up shirts with the sleeves rolled up, exposing their full sleeve tattoos. I’ve never found the tattooed, bad-boy image as appealing, but these two have my full attention. It doesn’t help that their clothes are form fitting enough to emphasise their muscles and gloriously sculpted asses.
It’s always nice to have someone to ogle while you’re at the bar. You know, the ones you gawk at while drunken, dirty dancing by yourself or with some other poor man who thinks he has a chance. You think you’re being sexy, but that’s rarely how it actually looks. More often than not, you have one eye slightly closed and you move like you’re stuck halfway between falling asleep and getting undressed. I’ve only been drunk enough to do that once or twice, and Bel was there to stop me from completely humiliating myself. One time she thought it would be funny to record me on her phone and show it to me the next day. That was the last time I got loser-pissed like that at a club.
“Here you go, beautiful,” the bartender calls out behind me. “Enjoy.”
“How much do I-” I begin, but she shakes her head and walks over to help another customer before I can finish.
Oh, I like her.
I drop a good tip in the jar, grab my glass of mystery liquid, and make my way through the rooftop.
I take a big sip from the straw just as I pass a young couple. The man looks like he is putting on a good attempt at winning the woman’s attention for the evening.
Good for him.
Suddenly the liquid is no longer in my mouth and it covers the young couple’s arms.
“Oh. My. God.” I choke out between coughs. “I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you clean that up.”
They look at me with shock, and disgust at first, but then burst into laughter as they notice the cup in my hand.
“Let me guess,” the woman says with a grin. “You told the bartender to pick a drink for you?”
“How did you-?” I ask, confused as I hand them a few napkins from the table behind me.
“She got both of us last weekend too,” she admits. “I don’t know what she puts in there, but that drink is nasty. It gets you drunk but it’s still nasty. I’m surprised it didn’t burn the flesh off our arms just now.” I look at the man, who nods, and I chuckle.
“Yeah, I can’t smell anything anymore and I barely had a sip,” I reply, and we laugh. We have a quick discussion about how we all need to band together and get her back one day. Then they excuse th
emselves to go to the restroom to wash up before the toxic mixture solidifies on their arms.
Nice couple.
I continue making my way through the crowd and towards the dance floor. I’ve choked back a few more sips of this toxic creation, and I’m very relaxed now. Not as relaxed as when I had my friend Tequila with me, but still pleasantly relaxed and out of my head.
I find a nice spot on the dancefloor and move my body to the rhythm. The cool breeze is a nice contrast to the warm feeling as my drink goes down my throat. I close my eyes and let the bass from the speakers vibrate throughout my body.
A tap on my shoulder brings me out of my trance-like state and back to reality.
“Well, hellooooo gorgeous,” the man says into my ear. Something about his breath on my neck as he speaks and his hand still resting on my shoulder makes me cringe. “I’ve had an off week but seeing you turns me on.”
Seriously? Does that shit actually work for anyone?
I turn around to face the man who was practically eating my ear while he spoke. He’s an older man—short, pale and thin, with big, curly dirty blonde hair. His eyebrows look like two big, dark, furry caterpillars mating on his face. His lips are tiny, like someone left them in the dryer for too long. He also has some freaky purple contacts in his eyes. I try not to judge people on appearance, but this man just screams creeper. A regular old Creepy McCreeperton.
“No, thank you,” I say, stepping back to increase the gap between us. “Just... no. I just got here and have no intention of doing anything with you or anyone else in this bar. Thanks though.”
He licks his lips as he eyes me up and down. “Oh, come on, baby, let me get you another drink. I’m sure you and I can have a great time together.”
Yeah, no thanks.
“Still no,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Always was and always will be. So please, move along, buddy.”