The Lonely (6 page)

He
nods. I point to Shell, who I realize is watching me like a hawk, and point
between them. "Michelle, my roommate, Sebastian, the guy from the
gym." I turn and run to the bathroom. The sea of people is thick and
heady. I shove my way through. The cold air of the bathroom is a comfort. I
take in gulps of it.

My
shirt is soaked. I slip into a stall and pull it off.

I'm
trembling.

His
cologne made me freak out?

Shit
is wrong with me.

Somehow
cologne made the air dirty. It made a wall of sin and sick twisted desires. It
hurt deep in my belly.

Tears
are flooding my eyes and I'm standing in the stall, waving my shirt back and
forth, trying to dry it out.

With
shaking hands and blinding tears that won't leave my eyes, I pull my cell from
my pants. I can't text. The words don’t make sense. I fat finger the buttons in
a panic. I delete the messages and hold the phone to my chest.
I start my affirmations in a breathy whisper, "You are alive. You aren’t
fighting the whole world. It's just a few people in a bar. They don’t see you.
Frig the bar. This is a tiny stall. It's a small room with a door and
protection." I take a deep breath. My words feel thick with saliva and the
distraught fear that cripples me.

My
legs become heavy. I need to run before my legs become cement blocks. I pull
the shirt on and storm from the bathroom. I slip along the back wall. In the
corner of my eyes I see them.

He's
laughing.

She
pushes his chest.

He
shakes his head, gripping my beer still.

They
don't see me.

I
slip outside. I am about to run, but I see the car. I race across the street. I
need the car. I need Stuart.

My
lungs are getting thick. The air isn’t coming the way I need it to. His face is
stoic as he opens the door, barely registering me. He's so used to it all.

I'm
breathless when I leap into the seat. The smell is like my hand sani. It's
therapy. I take huge, lung-filling breaths. I hold my trembling hands out. Stuart
gets in and squirts the cold alcohol on me.

"Where
is Michelle?"

"Inside."

He
sighs, "Okay. Home or drive?"

I
don’t look at him. I can't. I'm so ashamed. "Drive." My voice is weak
and hollow. He doesn’t say anything. He drives.

I
open my eyes when I start to feel nauseous. My heartbeat is crazed still. The
vibration of my phone brings me back.

I
glance at it.

'Where
u go?'
from Shell.

'Home'

'K.
Tell Stuart I said hi.'

'Tell
Sebastian I said bye.'

'K.
Sorry Em.'

I
shake my head and work at not feeling sorry for myself,
'No. I am.'

I
can't help but wonder if there was ever love and peace inside of me? Was I
always so filled with fear and pain? Was there ever a time when someone held me
in their arms and made me feel safe? Was I always scared of cologne and
touching?

I
look out the window at the dark city streets and see nothing but places to
hide.

When
Stuart drops me off, I climb the stairs and fight the defeated feeling.

"Look
at it this way. You left the house, you went to a bar, you didn’t run out after
a second. You were in there for almost an hour."

I
smile back at him, "Thanks Stuart."

He
shrugs, "It's cool. Tell Michelle to text me later."

I
nod, "Night." I turn and climb the rest of the stairs. I let him be
the one who's right, not the voice in my head that calls me a freak.

Michelle
doesn’t come home right away. It makes me wonder. Is she kissing his lips? The
lips I've caught myself staring at. Staring and wondering if they feel the way
they look. At least if they get together I can hear the details of what he
looks like naked or feels like kissing. I can live through her, like always.

I'm
almost insane by the time she comes strolling in the door. She shakes her head,
"Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

I
watch her. She pulls her phone out and sends a message.

"No.
Did you have fun?" I ask. My tone is shitty. I know it is. I'm not sorry.

She
shakes her head, "Not so much. It was alright. That Sebastian guy is
strung out on you though. Oh my god. He yakked my ear off. Like questions and
trying to get your number and sweet fricken god."

A
smile forces its way across my lips, "Really? He didn’t hit on you?"

"Uhhh,
no. Dude. Ho's before bro's. You saw him first." She sighs, "But he
did stop every other guy from hitting on me. He's huge and smoking hot. No one
even spoke to me all night. But Stuart was texting me." That puts a grin
on her lips.

Sebastian
likes me? Even after he saw it? He gets it? I almost pinch myself but decide
against it. Better to live in a dream world than no world. I roll over and fall
asleep. I'm safe from the lonely and crazy excited for the gym tomorrow.

I
wake the next day and race to the gym. I try to act casual, strolling in. I
saunter over to the wipes and the up to a machine and pull my hair up into a
ponytail. I clean and start at a walk, looking around, wondering if he's
coming. Suddenly he bounds in and hops on the machine next to me. "Hey.
How's it going?"

I
shrug and grin like a fool. "Good. Sorry I bailed last night."

He
shakes his head, "No. I get it."

I
sigh. He looks yummy and he gets it. Seeing him makes me happy. He starts his
machine, "Wanna get breakfast after this?"

I
nod, "Sure. Can we get pancakes? I love pancakes."

He
winks, "I know a place."

I
melt. I can't stop watching him and his form when he runs. I start my speed
increases and constantly have to bring my eyes around. The way his pecs bounce
and flex when he runs is horribly distracting.

I
wonder what he looks like without the shirt. I laugh at myself. When it comes
to boys and anything dirty, I'm all bark and no bite. I want to bite but I shut
it down before I even let myself entertain the thoughts. It's all I ever let
boys be, thoughts, ideas, and dirty stories from Shell.

I
finish my run early and get us both wipes. I'm grinning and waiting when he's
finally done. He's sweaty and in that moment, I realize I'm seeing another
person's sweat differently. It dawns on me that I don’t consider him other
people. That’s huge for me.

It
turns out watching him eat pancakes is better than eating pancakes, or watching
him run. I barely touch my food, watching his jaw move and his eyes light up
when he speaks is better than eating.

It's
official.

He's
my favorite person in the world. I've known him for a week and it feels like a
lifetime.

Meeting
for workouts and breakfast becomes an instant tradition.

Two
weeks later he asks me out on a date again. Finally. I do the butt hop thingy
that Shell does. But then I glance at my phone and shudder. My fingers twitch
when I drag them over the buttons sending the text I have been dreading all
day,
'I'm going out'

'Him
again?'

I'm
grinning when I send the next word,
'Yup'

'Yup
isn't a word. Where?'

'I
don't know, it's a surprise'

'You
know how I feel about surprises'
I
make duck lips and think about that. I don’t like them either.

I
text,
'I don’t like them either, but I'm trying to be a normal girl and he
makes me feel that way'

'I
want to know where you're going when you do'

'K'

'K
is a letter not a word!'

'O.K.'

His
reply of '…' makes me smile. He's such a crotchety bastard.

My
smile grows when I see Sebastian standing at the bottom of the stairs by my
dorm, looking dressier than normal. He's leaned against the railing in
dark-grey dress pants and a matching dress shirt. His hair is styled with
product and his face is completely clean-shaven. He smiles when he sees me
coming through the door. He doesn’t look like a college boy. It's like the
night at the bar, only I don’t feel like throwing up and sweating. Not yet.

"You
look beautiful."

I
smirk. I know I don’t. I'm wearing black dress pants and a pale green sweater.
I look casual. I always look this way.

"Where
are we going?" I take the steps slowly.

He
shrugs, "You are going to have to trust me."

I
don’t like that feeling, but I nod and take his arm. Touching his shirt feels
nice. His bicep is strong. He natters on about business and I ignore him. He is
very intense with his courses. He's always talking about business, like he's
working already. He manages to keep the details on the light side but still
tells me tons. I watch his jaw move and the way his lips form the words
starting with a w. They stick out, plump and kissable. Wednesday, water,
workforce, watchdog. They all become my new favorite words. I sigh.

"So
what do you think?" He's watching me. I've missed something crucial in the
long-ass story. I have ignored a question of sorts and instead spent the
long-ass time watching him.

I
wince, "No."

He
laughs, "No, you don’t think it's smart to get a hybrid car for running
around the city with?"

I
am confused-when did we start talking about cars? I shake my head
sarcastically, "No?" So glad I told him about the earth sciences
articles I wrote.

He
laughs, "Sorry. Was I boring you?"

I
laugh, because if he knew what he was doing to me, he would think I wanted
something other than dinner. Of course, my being all bark and no bite means we
would both be disappointed.

We
walk for a long time. He tries to pry things from me. I answer with the skill
and precision I always do.

"So
how many brothers and sisters do you have?" He nudges me as we walk up a
hill, past some office buildings.

"Lots.
I was raised in a huge family. Where are we going?"

He
laughs, "We are there." He points to a glass door in an office
building. He opens it casually, laughing about something.

I
don’t hear him. I just see the inside of it is a huge foyer with wide windows
and a front desk. It's a new place. I twitch. My stomach starts to clench.

I
never realized where we might have been heading.

I
assumed a safe place in the public, a place like the OCD restaurant.

He
walks to an elevator and pushes the button. He's still laughing and joking. He
doesn’t see that my hands are sweating. I force myself onto the elevator. When
it starts moving, the walls slowly inch their way toward me. My heart rate is
skyrocketing. My arms are sweating now. The elevator stops and my knees almost
buckle.

He's
nattering on about things I don’t hear. He points for me to step off.

His
hand is on the small of my back.

I'm
almost hyperventilating.

I'm
frozen.

He
steps off, pushing me forward.

We
walk down a hallway that I swear is getting narrower. He opens a dark-colored
door. Inside is a glow, like there's candles or firelight. It's a huge space
with high ceilings and walls that only go halfway up. Like each room has no
ceiling.

The
door closes with a click that sounds like a hammer pounding inside of my head.
I jump and look around. It's a house. A penthouse apartment. It's got a view of
the whole city.

I
see another man in the corner of my eye and I'm gone. I've bolted for the door
and raced down the hall. He's calling me. He's running after me but I get to
the stairs, ignoring his shouts and heavy footsteps that slap the hallway and
echo all around me. I run as hard as I can. My legs have trained for this
moment. I jump and run until I get to the bottom floor. I bust through into the
foyer. I can hear the elevator, but I crash through the front door and out onto
the street.

I
am lost. I run hard until I reach an alley. I lean my back against the wall of
the building and make a call with trembling fingers.

My
feet pound the treadmill with savagery. They're clawing at it. My heart is
racing and my fingers are almost reaching for the handlebars. They don’t, because
I never touch the handles.

I
don’t know how long I've been running at this pace. I just am, until I can't. I
need to feel something and exhaustion seems like a harmless thing.

I
hate the way I am. I hate the pity and understanding in Shell's eyes when I
bail on her New Leaf trips and adventures. I hate the way Stuart notices my
psychotic-ness and yet justifies my actions and makes my excuses for me. He
lets me do it. They all let me get away with it.