by L. U. Ann
My eyes water more and I’m feeling so weak from the pain of losing him to that bitch. He’s sorry?
Caine: Friday 11:26pm: I’m heartbroken without you. I don’t know what to do other than apologize and tell you how much you mean to me. I love you, Lacey!
He did not just say the word ‘love’. Ugh. I don’t want to be reminded. Another freaking text?
Caine: Friday 11:27pm: I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in my arms. I feel horrible and I know you may never forgive me but please Lacey, I’m begging you to accept my apology. I love you so much!
If he loved me so much, why did he allow someone else to be in his arms? Was he thinking about me when he was with her? Fuck no, he didn’t think of me at all! If he did, he wouldn’t have been able to go through with it much less do it again and God knows how many more times and with whom else. I’m so mad that he threw us away. How could he? Asshole. OMG, another text?
Caine: Friday 11:28pm: I know I’m a jerk. I’m sorry. You are the girl of my DREAMS. I love you.
I barely caught his signature before I sat up and threw the phone against the wall. I cannot take any more of his lies! He’s not going to change. A cheater will always be a cheater! At least I don’t have to worry about him calling or texting anymore. By the looks of the million shiny plastic and metal pieces scattered on my floor, I think my phone is out of commission. Jumping out of bed, I start ripping up all the pictures of us that litter my room. I don’t want any reminders of that asshat. He had me. He had his chance and he threw our relationship out the door. I cannot forgive him. After tearing apart my room in an attempt to get rid of any remaining evidence of our relationship, I fall on my bed like a sack of potatoes and begin crying again. I hate him!
I cry myself to sleep. I spend the next four days in bed, only leaving my sanctuary to go to the bathroom. Mom was concerned and even called Becca over to see if she could get me out of bed. I pretended to be asleep to escape her wrath. I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so’, not that Becca would ever say that to me. I just can’t chance the possibility because my heart hurts enough. I was such an idiot for not putting two and two together. I had to have it spelled out, and boy was it spelled out for me. In excruciatingly large letters.
I emerge from my room on Wednesday with the attitude ‘what is done is done’. There is nothing I can do to change the past, but I can move forward and will hold my head high. I refuse to give Caine one more thought, and I’ve definitely shed enough tears for him. There is no going back and pretending it won’t happen again, because I can’t take the heartbreak anymore. I will not be one of those girlfriends who looks the other way. We will not have a happily ever after. Caine will have to accept that it’s over; there is no going back. How would I ever be able to trust him again after this? Absolutely no fucking way. I refuse to be someone’s doormat. I should have known better, men are animals, always thinking with their dicks. Why didn’t I learn from my past experience that trusting him wasn’t a good idea? Lord knows it’s not the first time the male species has betrayed me. I should have kept a safe distance like I always have. Life was fine before Caine. I need to swear off guys because I don’t need one to make myself happy. I was perfectly fine in my bubble, a bubble I placed myself in as a child. My bubble protected me and kept me out of harm’s way. It kept me away from anyone causing me any more pain.
Figuring it’s time to face Becca, I call her from the house phone. She picks up on the third ring. “What the fuck Lacey?” she asks immediately.
“Well hello to you too,” I say, smiling at her forwardness.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were dead, you know, circling the drain over the douche bag.”
“No, I just needed to get it out of my system. What are your plans today? I need to get a new phone,” I tell her.
“What happened to your phone? I’m dying here. I’ve been waiting to hit you on the hip because it’s been hard not texting you,” she says and I can hear her teasing smirk on the other line.
“I kind of threw it across my room. Caine wouldn’t stop texting,” I explain.
“You know normal people would turn their fucking phone off, but I’m glad you put up an e-void. That guy has no business contacting you on your phone, by email or however else. You need a clean break from that bastard,” she says sarcastically.
“Yeah, but watching it fall into a million pieces was invigorating,” I say, picturing my heart as the phone shattered into a number of unrecognizable pieces. It would put the best puzzle genius into a fit of confusion trying to re-assemble it.
A couple hours later, I pick her up at her house. I take a deep breath, leaving the solace of my car to enter the whirlwind that is Becca Fox. Becca answers the door and pulls me into a hug, almost knocking us both over, “I’m so sorry love. He doesn’t deserve you. You don’t need Caine in your life, girl. You’re a beautiful star in a galaxy full of better people than that asshole. I’m going to rip that fucker’s balls off and feed them to him for dinner. Fucking dickulous!” She pulls away apologetically. "Hey, I'm going to stay over tonight. We've spent too many days apart. I am going through bestie withdrawal." She finally stops to take a breath.
“Thanks love. It’s fine. I’m not going to look back. I appreciate the... ah... support. You know, life goes on. Let’s get out of here. I have a new phone to pick out.” I wink at her.
“Thank bejesus. I can’t stand not being able to text you for God’s sake. Have you picked one out yet?” I shake my head back and forth. “That’s cool. We’ll find you the most badass phone available and then we can stop for our favorite meal,” she says grabbing her overnight bag.
I turn my head. “Really? You wanna go to Chevy’s Fresh Mex?” I ask as she smiles at me.
"I’ll take that as a yes. Yum, it’s our super salad. Deligious!” Becca shouts.
After a long day of shopping for a new phone and gorging out on my favorite meal, I am ready for bed. I was just getting cozy when Becca sits up and says, "I have an idea!” scaring the shit out of me.
"Okay?" I say, more as a question because Becca frightens me when she gets ideas.
"Let's play a game. It's called Name the Douche bag," she tells me.
"What? I've never heard of that game," I say confused.
"Um, hello? That's because I just made it up. The rules are you have to come up with a name for your douche bag using every letter of the alphabet to describe said dickhead,” she says matter-of-factly.
"Seriously Becca?" I ask her.
"Yes! It will be fun. Trust me you'll see," she says.
"Okay. Who goes first?"
"Oh love, you get to do the honors since it's your douche bag." She laughs.
"Alright. I start with the letter 'A'. Correct?" Becca nods her head in agreement. "Well that's easy. Asshole," I call out.
"Okay, my turn. Buffoon," she says.
"Buffoon?" I ask giggling. "Okay, clusterfuck," I say for my ‘C’ word.
"Oh my Lacey, that’s a good one. There are so many I want to say that begin with the letter ’D’, I can't stand it. I'll settle for two. Dick and ding-dong,” she says excitedly.
"I think that goes against your rules. You are supposed to choose one word," I say.
"It’s my game and my rules. I'm giving myself permission to use two words," Becca says setting me straight with a hint of laughter in her voice.
“Whatever. My ‘E’ word is Emu," I tell her.
"Emu? Isn’t that an animal?" she asks confused.
"Yes, but it is also a jackass. An emu is a happy ass bird stalker and wannabe ostrich. Just like Caine is a wannabe monogamist," I say.
"I'll give you creativity on that one. My next one is fart," she says.
"Fart? How is Caine a fart?" I ask.
"That's easy. As the fart makes its way through your system, it can cause pain, and then you blast the ass trumpet, and when it blows out, you'll feel better." I hear her giggle.
"Oh my God that is vulgar!" I stifle
my laugh. She's right on. "I don't know. ‘G’ is a hard one. How about goof?” I ask.
"Goof is too nice. What about gank?" she says irritated by my nice word.
"What the hell is gank?" I ask.
"It means to take something that does not belong to you. I think that's perfect for said goof," she informs me.
"So what now? You stole my 'G' word. Do I move to 'H' or do you get two turns?" I roll my eyes at the craziness of this game.
"He's your douche bag; you can go for it," she happily reminds me.
"Hotness hypnosis," I say.
"OH. MY. GOD! I am so proud of that word! You are so right, but it has to be hyphenated so that it doesn't break the 'one word rule'. He is so hot that you overlook the flaws in his character. I love it!" I laugh at her enthusiasm. "There is only one word to sum up the douche bag that begins with an 'I'... IDIOT!" she says a little too loudly.
"Shh, my mom's going to come in here and yell at us for not going to sleep. She has to get up early for work tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
"Jackass," I say.
"Oh, come on we've already said that word a couple times already. How about you come up with a new word?" she declares, annoyed with me for using a common word.
"Fine. Let's see. Oh, how about the combination of jackass and doofus? He’s a jackaremus!" I state proudly.
"It’s perfect, my love. Krite is my ‘K’ word," she says.
"And a krite is what?" I ask.
“Oh, it means the same thing as piece of shit," she says.
"Wow. You are something else, love," I tell her.
And Becca proudly replies, "Of course."
"Loserhead," I say.
“Oh, yes, or what about ludder? It refers to someone also known as a skank." She quickly answers my unspoken question as to what a ludder means. "That would definitely be appropriate."
"I got it, moronasaurus," she says quickly.
"Wha-" I ask, but she cuts me off.
"It's someone who is so moronic that you cannot believe they can breathe air on our planet." I take a moment to think.
"Seriously, Becca? Do you speak English? How the hell do you get such good grades? You are full of useless information!" I tell her laughing.
"Um, excuse me. It's not useless. I'm using it right now. It just shows how smart I am," she says grinning.
"You're crazy," I tell her.
"Come on. Give me a word that begins with the letter ‘N’."
"Nitwit?" I guess.
"Or, nittywaggom. The male version though. And before you ask, I'll tell you. It's a filthy lying bitch," she says.
“Wow. Good one. And don't say 'of course’,” I tell her and move on to ‘O’. "Hmm, obscenely over-rated outcast.”
“I think if you hyphenate them, it can be one word," she says and we laugh. Becca really has her own language.
"A pig-prick. Hyphenated so that it's one word," I say.
"I like that. How about prickalia? It’s another word for prick," she states.
"Um, isn't that what I just said?" I ask.
"No, you said he was a pig-prick. My word means he acts and treats people in a prickish way." She tries to educate me.
"It’s the same thing! This game is starting to hurt my brain. I think we have plenty of ways to describe said douche bag from now on." I yawn.
"Okay, glad we are ending with 'P'. I didn't want to go into the 'Q’s'. There are just too many choices. Let's get some sleep."
"Okay, thank you for cheering me up. Love you," I tell her.
"You too love."
A little while later, Becca speaks quietly, just in case I was asleep. “Hey Lacey. You still awake?”
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I've got a better 'P' word. Prickasuarus." I can hear the pride in her voice.
"And you're going to define it for me right?" I ask.
"Absofuckinglutely! It's a complete shit-headed bastard," she says.
"Okay, Becca. I like that one. Do you feel better?"
"Yes, now I can go to sleep. Love ya," she says yawning too.
"Love you," I muffle as sleep overtakes me.
Chapter Eight
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I wake up with a pounding in my head and I look around and notice Becca isn’t in the room. It has to be Thursday; there is no way I could have lost another day just sleeping. Too many days were already gone grieving over that jerk. Shoot, I need to get up, the bathroom is calling me, but my head feels like it’s going to erupt like Mount St. Helens. I hold my head, cringing, as I stand and silently pray to the God above that I don’t stub any of my toes between here and the porcelain throne. I cannot remember the last time my head hurt like this without drinking the night before. It must be from Becca’s word game last night. My brain seriously hurt tying to think of names and then having to process the words coming out of her mouth. What the hell is a prickasuarus again? I’m still stunned on that. I swear that girl is more alien than human, but I love her.
Holding my head, I walk to the kitchen to see if I can find some Motrin or something. Oh shit, it’s bright and people are talking. I should just say screw the drugs and go back to bed.
“Good morning sunshine!” Fuck, Becca is her usual chipper self. “You look like death love. What the hell is wrong? I’ve been up for at least an hour wondering when you were going to pull your ass out of bed. Sorry mom! I was beginning to wonder if you might come down with a bout of tooth sweater again.”
Screw the drugs; I need caffeine to deal with her. I walk over to the coffee maker that holds the love of my life, Arabica Coffee. Just add some Splenda and soy milk and I have the most divine drink known to mankind. It’s my crack, and I am relishing in feeling like an addict as I take my first sip. Magically my head feels better. My crack, my drug, my addiction, my coffee. Ahhhh, heaven! I smile at mom who apparently was keeping Becca company while I slept in a little.
“You know better than to talk to me before I’ve had at least one cup of coffee, girl. And, what the heck is a ‘tooth sweater?’” I ask, giving little Cinnamon a good rub behind his ears.
“Girls, I will leave you to your morning chatter. I need to get over to the store. It was good to see you, Becca. I’ll see you in a little while, Lacey,” Mom says giving Becca a kiss on her head and turning to me for a hug and kiss.
“Bye mom, love you,” I yell out to her as she walks out the front door. “You were saying?” I turn and ask Becca.
“Yeah, I remember you wake up with a bad case of coffee face each morning. And love, you should know what a tooth sweater is. You wore it for a while a few days ago, when you laid your sad ass in bed for days wallowing in pity; not getting up and taking care of yourself except to go to the bathroom. Yeah, your mom told me all about it.” She looks at me pointedly. “If you don’t brush your teeth for a day or two, you begin to build shit on your teeth and it feels like your teeth are wearing fuzzy little sweaters.” She shakes her head. I know she is bothered because one, I let the asshole win and was holed up depressed in my room; and two, I didn’t take care of my oral hygiene – a serious obsession with us. I was just too upset to care about anything, even my morning caffeine fix.
I look over at her, not bothering to answer. She is way too happy for me. I need the caffeine to be actively flowing through my veins before I can handle Becca and her snarky come- backs. As I sit quietly enjoying the love of my life, I can feel eyes on me. I look over at Becca. “What?”