Communication: the root of all evil in the lifespan of my few, scattered relationships. I thought about my little black book , my number, and who I would possibly want to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody came to mind, nobody from my past, present, or prospective future. How could I find my soulmate when I had no idea what he would look like? Be like? Was Jason my soulmate and I just didn’t know it?
After downing a couple cups of coffee, my foot shook as I read over Cosmopolitan. Surely, I was entitled to a little bit of confusion when there were magazines dedicated entirely to talking about men, women and sex. Women referred to the magazine as “The Bible,” for me--some of it just reeked of desperation. For instance, one article was talking about new and creative ways to land a man. My eyes skimmed over the words, the idea was to find a random guy and ask him to hook your necklace for you. It just seemed so superficial, was this really the way to start a successful relationship? Months down the line would you turn to him in bed and giggle, “I just wanted to talk to you so I followed advice from Cosmo.” I sighed, staring at the hot pink cover. Maybe the type of woman who followed their advice was the type of woman men wanted to be with. Maybe, instead of indulging in Cosmo I should be leafing through an advice column, “What to do when you’ve found the perfect guy and still can’t commit.”
I poured out the coffee pot and rinsed out my oversized mug. I stared at the miscellaneous boxes of tea and decided on green tea for Jason. Maybe, if I started “playing house” with Jason, I would eventually fall into it. I set the tea down on the nightstand and drew the sage green curtains.
“Good morning...it’s 11:45, do you want to get up?” I said softly, running my fingers through his hair, calming his bedhead induced cowlick.
“Mmm..already? I can’t believe I slept in this late,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“Probably the jet lag, you deserve to sleep in sometimes too, you know.” I laughed, I picked up the cup of tea, extending it towards him, “Look, I made you tea.”
He looked up at me, genuinely surprised and grateful, “Thank you, this is a nice surprise. What did I do to deserve you?”
I laughed, it seemed silly that I was so tentative to take things to the next level with Jason. He was a great guy, even if we had our differences. I climbed over him and sat indian style next to him on the bed.
“So, I was thinking, what do you think about going out to a big celebration dinner? I thought I could invite some of the girls, hit the town for a little bit afterwards?”
He took a sip of his tea, quiet. He forced a smile, “Sure, I’ll invite some of the guys too. Get the whole load of them together.”
I raised my eyebrows, this was a new development. Normally, Jason was opposed to doing big group outings, particularly when it involved merging our friends. Maybe I had been silly to think that Jason couldn’t mesh with my friends. Perhaps our two worlds weren’t so separate as I had thought. Maybe, this could work out after all.
I curled up next to him, resting my head on his chest. I closed my eyes contentedly as the sunlight poured into my bedroom. In the light of day, our relationship felt warm and cozy.
Jason stroked my hair as he watched the news and finished his tea, “Alright lazy bones, time for us to get up and start the day. Time is a wasting.”
He jumped out of bed and walked into the bathroom.
“It’s Sunday, let’s just relax today. Maybe do some shopping together?” I inquired, propping myself up in bed again.
“Shopping? That’s the last thing you need to do. Have you seen your closet? Maybe instead you should weed through there and pull out some stuff for donation.”
“What do you mean? I wear everything in that closet.”
He pulled out my first communion dress.
“But that’s SENTIMENTAL!” I leaped off the bed, tugging the white lace dress from his hands. Stroking the pale pink ribbon wistfully.
“Are you still 12? You could maybe fit one leg into that. Come on, Dee.”
I shot him a look, “It’s special to me. You should know that. Besides, I always figured my daughter would wear it someday.”
The words shocked me, I laid the dress down on the bed and looked out the window. It was a subconscious thing, all those years keeping that dress--maybe I wasn’t so stunted after all. I felt Jason’s arms wrap around my waist, pick me up, and then toss me onto the bed playfully. He laid on top of me, planting kisses all over my face. “I love you, my little pack rat.”
I tickled his sides lovingly, “I’m not a pack rat. That closet is perfectly organized and you know it.”
He gave me a big, loud kiss on the lips. Suddenly he turned serious, rolling off me and onto his side.
“You know, Dee. Holding onto those things won’t bring your parents back.”
I looked at him, “I know that, it’s just nice to have sometimes. I remember when my Mom gave me that dress.”
He sighed, propping his head up on his hand, stroking my face. I was half expecting him to start lecturing me about a memory being in your head, not in your material possessions. But he didn’t, as if sensing the topic was off boundaries he sat up. “How did they die?”
I looked up at him, pausing. I had never talked about the death of my parents, except to the girls. The wounds were still fresh and it never did me any good to discuss it. People had told me that by talking about them, it would help me heal, keep their memories real. But, it just reminded me that I couldn’t call them--I couldn’t hug them, I couldn’t be with them. I shook my head, getting off the bed.
“Dee, you can’t just runaway from this.”
“Run away? Believe me, I’m not running away from this. Excuse me if I’m not ready to talk about it.” I said defensively, walking towards the kitchen.
“That’s what you do, you just walk away. You’re walking away from this conversation right now.”
“I’m not walking away from this conversation, I’m expecting you to respect the fact that maybe I don’t want to think about it right now.”
“Not talking about it doesn’t make it not real,” He persisted.
“People deal with things differently. Don’t be so self-righteous about it,” I retorted, deciding mid-walk that I wanted to get out of the house for a bit. Suddenly, it felt like I was being trapped. I walked into my closet and pulled out a pair of sweats. Sliding them on and slipping into a pair of flip flops.
“What do you think you’re doing? You’re just going to leave?”
“I need sometime to cool off. That’s all.”
“You’re so immature, sometimes I feel like I’m dating a child. You’re really acting your age right now. Way to ruin the day.”
I grabbed my purse, shooting him a look. “Ruin the day? Thanks for ruining my day. I really wanted to think about my dead parents. I may be immature, but you’re acting like an asshole.”
“Yeah Delaney, life’s so tough. Nice purse,” he snapped.
I stopped and turned to him, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think, that you’re fooling everybody?”
“What are you even talking about?”
“You never want to talk about your parents but you expect it to go unnoticed that you don’t work, drive a BMW, and lug around a Gucci bag like it’s nothing.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’m out of here, I can’t deal with you and your bullshit right now.”
“My bullshit?!” I practically screamed at him. I felt my blood boiling as my hand shook looking for my car keys. “This is bullshit! How dare you talk about me like that.”
He laughed condescendingly, “You’ve never had to work for anything. That’s why you just walk away. You don’t know how to get your hands dirty and actually work at something. Life’s so goddamn tough.”
I was enraged. I gripped my keys so tight in my hand that I could feel the metal digging into my skin, “You are so out of line right now. How fucking dare you--don’t be here when I get back.”
I opened the door and then slammed it shut behind me. I was practically shaking, I could feel the tears bubbling up in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting to me.
“Yeah you’re such a martyr!” He yelled after me into the hallway. I didn’t turn around, instead of waiting for the elevator I booked it down the stairs. I pulled out my cell phone and called Amber, “Can you meet me?”
“Sure, what’s going on?” She inquired, sensing the tension in my voice.
“I just need to talk to you, Jason and I had a big fight. Do you want to get lunch at Soler?”
I felt myself calming down as I got into my car. Although his words followed me, the anger dissipated from my body. I adjusted my seat, reversed, and drove off.
“Alright, sure thing. Be careful driving, are you okay?” Amber was the most caring friend I had ever had. You could call her and tell her you got a paper-cut and she would offer to come over with a band-aid.
“Eh, I’m upset. I’m just trying to calm down.” I glanced at my shaking hands, trying to focus on what I was doing.
“Okay, well drive carefully. We’ll figure it all out. I’m grabbing my keys right now, I love you!”
“I love you too. See you in a bit.” I snapped the phone shut and tossed it into the cup holder.
It felt like seconds until I was in the parking lot of Soler. I shook my head, mad at myself. I didn’t even remember the drive there, blinded by rage. I had given into crying once I had the music playing and my sunglasses covering my eyes. Hidden from the rest of the world. I had hated crying infront of people since I was a little girl. One night, in a dramatic ploy to get attention from my parents, I had stayed up all night wailing away and stomping around my room. My Mom had eventually given in and come upstairs angrily, “Delaney, crying isn’t going to get you anywhere is it?”
It struck me then that that made a lot of sense. Crying wasn’t going to change the fact that I was grounded. I looked up at her, suddenly quiet, and I just nodded. She gave me a kiss on the forehead, “No more tears.”
I inhaled as much air as I could get into my lungs. It felt like just yesterday. I could remember how she smelled, she always wore Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel. I secretly kept a small bottle in my car and in my nightstand, whenever I was missing her, I would spritz a little into the air and fall asleep soundly. It instantly calmed me down. I remember walking into the hallway after she and my Dad would get home from a Concert or Gala, her perfume would linger in the hallway and I would breathe it in from my room contentedly, happy they were home.
I saw Amber’s beat up civic pull into the parking lot. She hated her car, so much that I was surprised she hadn’t crashed it yet. I remember in highschool, this girl named Brett had crashed her old mercedes in hopes she would get a new one. Her parents caught onto her plan and ended up buying her a used Le Baron. She was obviously upset and it was pretty entertaining whenever she would pull up into the school parking lot, her mercedes looked pretty good to her by then.
She stepped out, looking stylish as ever. She walked over to me and gave me a big, sincere hug.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
I sighed, hugging her back tightly. She smelled like Vanilla. I wanted to cry, but I fought back the tears, shaking my head and blinking furiously. “I don’t even know, we got into a big fight, a big big fight.”
We nestled into a table by the window, secluded from everybody else. Amber could sense that it was serious. “Tell me everything.”
And I did, I told her about how scared I was to be with Jason. That I was afraid I was never going to able to love anyone fully. I told her that he had asked about my parents, instantaneously her hand was on mine, comforting me.
“Am I crazy? Is it me?”
“No, you’re not crazy. Everyone deals with grief differently. I pray for you all the time, and what you’ve gone through nobody can understand but you. You deal with it however feels right for you.”
The funny thing is, I knew Amber was being sincere when she said she prayed for me everynight. Her family was very Catholic and very caring. Although I didn’t believe in organized religion, I found comfort that Amber believed enough for both of us.
I needed to confide in someone. Not about Jason, it was more than Jason, bigger than that. “Sometimes, I worry that the pain will never go away. People tell me that time heals everything. But I worry that’s something cliche that people just say. You know? I’ve read all those books about grief that people gave me at the funeral. None of it helps. According to them, I’m still in denial--but acknowledging that doesn’t change the fact that I miss them. I miss them so much that it aches in places I didn’t think existed.”
Amber didn’t say anything. She just listened. And that was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in a long time, just letting me get it out. I told her what Jason had said about the money. She shook her head thoughtfully,
“Delaney, I’ve known you for a long time. Don’t feel bad about the money. You lost your parents. It’s not..it’s not a trade off.” Her eyes stared into mine beseechingly, unsure of how to say what she wanted to.
I nodded, rubbing my eyes. I was exhausted. I was exhausted with my relationship, my life, my grief.
“It kills me every time I get a letter from the bank. I never wanted that money, sometimes it’s just a huge reminder of what I don’t have. That they’re gone.”
I didn’t have to tell her that I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. She knew. I didn’t have to make sure I was saying everything politically correct like I would have had to with Jason or someone who didn’t know me that well. The truth was, I was broken. I was broken and I had no idea how to glue myself back together, mend the fragments. Maybe it came down to the fact that the two people I was supposed to look to for guidance, to depend on, were gone. They were snatched away without a moment’s notice. Our relationship had never been perfect, we bickered, we argued about pointless things, we were normal. It’s funny in a way, that we have a tendency to take the people who mean the most to us in our lives fore-granted. We argue with them because we can, we don’t appreciate them because we think they will always be there. We don’t say the things we should because we think they know.
Amber was cautious, knowing it was a sensitive subject to talk about and kind of taboo, “Delaney--that money is a way for your parents to still take care of you. Try not to think about it as a sign that they are gone, but more as a sign that they are still with you? Jason was out of line today. The worst thing about fighting is not knowing when you’ve gone too far, hit below the belt. This isn’t a sporting event where you can call time out. It sounds like you both said things you didn’t mean.”
I nodded somberly, looking out at a family getting into their car. The little girl was whirling around with a birthday balloon, completely care free. I envied her.
She continued, “Was it just the comments about the money that upset you?”
I sighed, my heart felt heavy. I shrugged, stirring my black coffee as I fidgeted in my seat. “No, I guess not. It was a couple different things. For instance, he told me that I run away from everything.” I sighed again, “I guess I should tell you--yesterday when I picked him up from the airport he mentioned us moving into together, and maybe even getting married.”
Her eyes widened, marriage was like Christmas to Amber. She had been planning her future wedding day since we were little, thumbing through bridal magazines in the grocery store wistfully, in short--she was the complete opposite of me. “Married? Wow. What did you say?”
“I didn’t really say much of anything. I don’t really know what to say or what to think. I mean, how can I even seriously contemplate being with someone when I’m such a wreck? God, after my parents died--the whole floor came out from under me in my relationship with Nick. It was like life just decided to shit all over me. Maybe I’m not recovered yet. Maybe I’m still angry...bitter. Or something.”
“Maybe you’re afraid Jason will leave you like Nick did.”
I looked up at the ceiling, it was true. After I started seeing a therapist and taking medication for my anxiety attacks, Nick pulled further and further away. Like I was some kind of disease he didn’t want to catch. Thinking back on it made me sick. It was like our relationship went to shambles, what I thought was a solid bond was actually just a deck of cards. My parents died my senior year of College, and luckily it was towards the end of the year because majority of my teachers ended up giving me a pity B. I couldn’t concentrate on my school work, and sometimes I would just break down in the middle of class and have to leave. It was like I wasn’t in control of myself. One day I called Nick to pick me up from class because I was feeling really down. He said he was too busy and in the middle of a big video game session with his roommate Ty. I started yelling at him, losing it all together, and he yelled back, “I’m sorry I don’t understand Delaney, maybe if one of my parents died I’d get it. Get it together. It’s our last year, I don’t want to spend it wanting to slit my wrists.” Looking back on it, that was probably the moment something in me snapped. Part of me died too. I hung up the phone without saying a word, no longer angry, no longer crushed, I was just there. I was totally devoid of any emotion, as if all the pain I had been feeling suddenly became too much and my body just shut down. My therapist had aptly called it a “gray-out.” It’s almost as if you, yourself, are replaced by a zombie version. You go through the motions of everyday existence but you aren’t really there, you aren’t really you. You’re somebody else.
“I just started feeling slightly normal again. Sometimes, even being happy when I wake up. I’m afraid, if I talk about it, if I hash it out, that it’ll all come back again. I guess maybe, if I don’t talk about it, it doesn’t seem as real. Jason called me on it, and I guess that’s why I got so mad. Because it’s true, I’m not walking away--i’m sprinting for dear life. I have a guy who wants to talk about my parents with me, instead of pretending it never happened, and I’m acting like Nick. I’m ignoring it. I’m trying to go about the motions of a relationship without the real intimacy. But, is that okay? To not talk to him about it? Because it just seems like when I am, who I am, people don’t know what to say to me. I don’t want to lose every guy I want to date because I’ve had a huge emotional blow in my life.”
“Maybe you just need to be alone right now. Give yourself time to heal.” Amber offered.
I bit my lip, knowing there was something to it. “But I don’t want to be alone. Do I have to be alone in order to work on myself?”
She thought for a minute and then said, “You know people say you can’t be in a relationship until you are content with yourself. I don’t know how the saying exactly goes, but it’s more or less like that. Like, you can’t be there for someone else in a relationship, until you know how to be there for yourself.”
I groaned, “God that could take years. It seems, the ways I take care of myself, are unacceptable to other people. When did guys become the ones who want to talk and share feelings? I just want to do what I want to do. I don’t want to have to talk to someone about something if I don’t feel like--does that make me crazy?”
“No, that makes you human. But, I really think it would do you some good to just take a time out from relationships and just take some time for you,” She laughed, “So you can quote ‘do what you want to do.’”
I smiled too, I was starting to feel calm again. Maybe the world wasn’t falling all around me. Maybe it was just a small storm.
“Man, this sucks. Jason and I were planning a big celebration dinner for his promotion. Now that won’t be happening, I’m not even sure how to go about fixing this.”
Amber sighed, “Well, it’s up to you. Do you feel like fixing things?”
“Not at the moment, I just don’t want to deal with him. It’s like I’m so mad at him, but I don’t like fighting. It’s just so draining.”
“Well, call him when you feel like it. Nothing has to be decided tonight.”
“True, true. It’d be nice to go out for awhile and take my mind off things, would you want to get the girls together and go do something?”
Amber beamed, “I thought you would never ask, I’ve been dying to go to Vision, that club downtown. Apparently all the athletes go there to hang out,” She raised her eyebrows mischievously, “I’ll bet Eric will die when I’m on the arm of some star basketball player.”
Amber then continued to fill me in on the details of Eric’s facebook and the pictures of him and his possible new girlfriend. It was nice to listen to her and somebody else’s drama--mine had become too much for me to deal with. I guess at the end of the day, no matter what else happens, if I don’t have a boyfriend to hold my hand--atleast I can count on Amber to do it.
Chapter 9
I opened the door of my apartment, half hoping Jason would still be there to tell me how foolish we had both been. But the only sound was Bachi whining happily to see me. I walked into the living room and saw a note on the kitchen counter.
“I don’t think we should talk for a few days. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.”
I sighed, it wouldn’t blow over as quickly as I had hoped. Drama, drama, drama. I walked around my apartment, staring at my father’s chair in the corner by the french doors. It was a dark, chocolate leather, worn in where he used to sit and read. I pulled my favorite blanket off the arm of the couch and curled up in the seat, closing my eyes. I would never admit this to anyone, but sometimes I pretended it was him holding me. The chair was so comfortable, I didn’t want to get out of it. I couldn’t tell you just how long I sat in the chair, staring blankly at the wall in front of me, but it was long enough for the sun to set and darkness to come again. My cell phone buzzed in my purse from the floor, I was a little disoriented but managed to scramble and answer it, “Hello?”
“Hey, I need to talk.” It was James. Apparently, something was happening to everyone today.
“Sure, what’s going on?”
“She got a job in California, she said she’s going to take it because she wants to be closer to her family.”
I didn’t know ‘her’ name, but I felt like I knew her after how much we talked about her the past few weeks.
“Oh, shit. What are you going to do?”
“Well, I have a job here. And, I don’t think she wants to bother with the long distance. I think it’s over.”
“Huh.” I was deep in thought, should I defend her? Should I defend someone who was afraid of relationships too? Maybe she wasn’t just like me, but I felt like I understood where she was coming from. “Well, did you talk to her about it?”
“Sort of. She got mad at me when I called her on it.”
Eerily familiar.
“Are you happy? With her, I mean.”
It was a strange question, but it’s what came to mind. If James really loved this girl, maybe he should be patient with her, wait out the storm.
“Don’t hold this against me if it blows up in my face, but I could really be with her. I really love her.” That surprised me, James was usually very guarded with his emotions. He was a great communicator, but very private, cautious. That was something we understood about each other.
“Hmm. You know, what I’m beginning to realize is that when something is meant to be--it will be. Maybe, bumps in the road are just tests.”
“Tests?”
“Yeah like, maybe to see how much you are really in it. If you care about her, maybe you should just be there for her. Not pressure her about it, just enjoy it. Like she said.”
I could tell he was frustrated, his voice was tired and tense. “Yeah I guess, I just don’t get it. She never lets me in. I never know what she’s thinking.”
“Do you think she’s into the relationship? Or is her not saying anything, just a way to avoid telling you the truth?”
“Go on..”
“Well, I mean. Is she just avoiding telling you she doesn’t want to be with you? I hope that doesn’t sound too harsh.”
“No. Could be. Man, I hate girls.”
I smirked, “Perfect, I hate guys. Together, we take care of the whole planet.”
“Jason and you fighting again?”
“Of course. It’s what I do, I fight with people, ruin relationships, and am just destined to spend my life alone.”
“Well, hey, you and I can spend our lives alone together.” James was always brutally honest. He never sugar coated anything, or said something just to make me feel better. He knew that in the long run, the truth, was better than taking comfort in a lie.
“James?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope it works out, for you. Maybe she just needs time. Maybe, being there for her now, will do wonders in the long run.”
“Hm. Interesting. I just don’t want to look like an idiot.”
“Nobody does. But, to me, sticking by someone, is never grounds for looking like an idiot. Do what feels right for you..whatever that may be.”
He sighed, I could tell he was thinking. It bothered me that he was so frustrated by this girl.
“I’m sorry I don’t know her. It would be nice to be able to tell you what was going on in her head. The only thing I can say, is that in my experience, actions speak louder than words. Sometimes it’s just nice for someone to hold your hand when you don’t know how to ask them to.”
“Word.”
“Word,” I repeated with a smile, “It’ll work out. It always does. I’m going to go though, I have to meet Amber for a night of drinking away my sorrows.”
“Sounds like a plan, have a good one.”
I hung up the phone, pulling it to my heart. It seemed like every relationship had communication problems. How much easier would life, relationships, be if we could just say what we really meant. If I could tell Jason I wasn’t ready and he could be okay with it, things would be better. But maybe, there’s a reason we foul up, say the wrong things, maybe sometimes it’s not the right time..or maybe sometimes it’s just not the right person to say them to.
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