Find A Way Ch. 7

Seven.


I forced myself through the crowd of people, desperately searching for any one of my friends.  Matisse was no longer in the corner with the hot blonde, and Marley wasn't playing beer pong with the drunk boys.  There were too many people in front of me to even find the couch in the living room to see if Kaitlyn and Jenna were still there.  And the tears that clouded my vision weren't helping any. 

I struggled with the crowd, which seemed to double since I'd gone outside, shoving as hard as I could to get through.  The music was so loud I didn't know if Connor had bothered to follow me or not, and frankly, I'd hoped he hadn't.  I didn't wanna talk to him now, I didn't even wanna look at him. 

I finally found the bright white doors that led out front and headed for them.  When was finally out of the crowd, I ran outside.  My head was spinning from the alcohol so I stumbled to the brick wall that surrounded the garden to catch myself from falling over.  I sat down, panting and heaving hard, fighting back the nausea.  All I wanted to do was go home and lock myself in my room.  Put a padlock on my window, sound proof it and paint the glass black so I'd never be tempted to talk to him again. 

Only a few moments past before I felt a warm touch on my shoulder.  I cringed.  I didn't want to turn around.  I didn't want it to be Connor behind me. 

But I knew it was. 

He sat down with his hand still on my shoulder and I shrugged it off.  I heard him let out a heavy sigh.  "Skyelar..." he whispered.  I ignored his agonizing tone.  I didn't say a word and tried to push myself to my feet to get away from him, but he took hold of my hand before I could get anywhere.  "Please!" he begged.  "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Sorry I saw you, not sorry it happened.  Fucker.

I kept myself facing away from him even though he held on to my hand tight enough to where I couldn't pull away.  He pulled my arm closer to him, trying to get me to turn about but I fought him off.  I was now an uncomfortable level of drunk as I watched the tree in front of me spin in a circular pattern.  I needed to lay down.  I was way too drunk.  Too drunk to deal with this shit, to think about what happened, to imagine her straddling him in the jacuzzi, rubbing her herpes infested lips all over his face... 

I only fucking prayed I was too drunk to remember any of this shit in the morning. 

"Skye, please.  Don't be mad.  What happened back there had nothing to do with you," he explained.  But I didn't want to hear it.  I just wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die.  "It didn't even mean anything.  It was just Bianca being ... Bianca and me being.... drunk." 

Fucking cop-out.

I shouldn't care so much about it.  I shouldn't let him effect me the way he did, but I couldn't help it.  All I wanted to do was forget what I saw, pretend I never had any feelings for him and find someone else who I could actually be with.  But my heart had more pull than my head, and as much as I wished I did, I couldn't control how I felt. 

I blinked hard before I finally gathered the strength to turn and face him.  He was soaking wet in his clothes, standing in the freezing cold air, shivering before me.  His eyes were completely bloodshot and I knew he had a lot more to drink than I did.  It surprised me that he could even stand at that point. 

I straightened my posture and looked at him seriously, "You don't need to explain anything to me, Connor.  You can do whatever and who ever you want.  I couldn't care less," I lied.

He eyed me sadly and released my hand from his grasp, "Come on, Skye.  You don't mean that..."

My face fell in disbelief as my frustration grew, "What do you want from me, Connor?!" I growled.  "You asked me to give you space, so I did!  You told me to go away!  If you'd rather spend time with people you don't even like, then fine!  There was nothing going on between us anyway, Connor, you made that very clear!"  He cringed at my words and turned his face away from mine.  "I got it when you said you didn't want me... just leave me alone."

I hadn't noticed the crowd of people that had gathered around us in the grass.  I turned my gaze behind Connor and saw Matisse staring at us with wide eyes.  I folded my arms across my chest and stalked past Connor.  I took the few steps to Matisse slowly, not wanting to stumble.  "Can we go now?" I asked her in a whisper.  She nodded her head and called out to Marley, who had also been watching our little production of a lifetime movie in the front lawn. 

Kaitlyn and Jenna came around with Marley and we made our way down to the drive way where her car was parked.  I climbed in the back and squished myself in the middle of Matisse and Jenna, while Marley sat shot gun and Kaitlyn drove.  Both of my friends wrapped their arms around me comfortingly as I finally allowed myself to let out the tears I'd been fighting back. 

"Just don't puke in my car," Marley said annoyed as she eyed me from the rear view mirror.  I knew she was pissed off about having to leave the party early, but she could have gone back if she wanted too.  I personally couldn't a shit. 

Matisse looked at me concerned, "Do you want us to bring you home?"  I nodded my head then rested it on her shoulder.  She nodded back understandingly, "I'll bring your stuff over tomorrow," she promised as she stroked my hair comfortingly.

The car ride seemed to take forever as I stared absentmindedly out the tiny window, watching the street lights past us by.  The tears made everything more blurry than my drunkenness alone and I had to force myself to look away.  My eyes felt heavy so I closed them for what only seemed to be a few seconds to stop the disorienting sites around me.  But before I knew it, Matisse was shaking my arm, telling me we were there.  She crawled out first and I followed behind her, stumbling slightly over my own two feet.  She helped me up my porch stairs and got the key out of the hiding place for me.  I took it gratefully from her and unlocked the door myself.  I gave her a hug and thanked her for helping me.  She looked at me apologetically before turning back to the car that rumbled in my driveway. 

I opened the door as quietly as possible and made my way up the stairs.  My fathers loud snores told me he was out cold and he was way too loud for my mother to hear anything over, so I knew I was safe.  I got to my bedroom and flung the door open, thankful to be back in my sanctuary.  I completely ignored my window as I kicked off my shoes, ripped my tight pants off and threw them across the room.  I went to my dresser and took out my comfy pajamas, then plopped myself into my desk chair to put them on.  My head was still spinning from drinking so much.  For most people, having two drinks really isn't enough to get you drunk, but I was a total light weight.  Two drinks for me is equivalent to six for a normal person.  That and my drinks consisted of nothing but straight liquor.

After struggling with my pant legs, I finally managed to get them on right.  I stood up and crawled into bed, bringing the blankets over my head to block out the quiet cries coming from the window next door. 

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I slept until two o'clock the next day, let down by religion once again because God didn't take me in my sleep that night.  I'd take death over this kind of pain any day. 

I slightly remember my parents knocking at my door in the morning, asking me why I had come home in the middle of the night.  I think I muttered something about my stomach and not retching in Matisse's bathroom all night, which really wasn't that far from the truth.  Although I didn't actually vomit, the urge was unfortunately still there.  They left me alone to sleep as long as I needed. 

My head pounded painfully when I attempted to sit up, thankful that my dark curtains hid any trace of sunlight that could possibly shine through.  My stomach was in that weird stage where I was nauseous yet hungry at the same time.  I knew I needed hangover food.  Matisse taught me what the best kinds were -- pancakes, French toast and really greasy tacos.  The idea of them made me gag slightly, but I pushed it down, knowing as soon as I had some, I'd feel better.  I slowly climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom so I could pee.  I sat there much longer than I needed too, still trying to stop the dizziness I felt. 

There was a soft knock at the door right as I was washing my hands. "Just a sec," I called in a raspy voice. 

"Matisse is here with your things, honey.  Is it okay if she comes up?" My mother asked through the door.

"Yeah, that's fine," I quietly answered back.  I splashed my face with warm water before I turned the faucet off.  I dried myself off with a hand towel and turned to open the door.  I jumped back startled when I saw she still standing there. 

She saw my bloodshot eyes and eyed me seriously.  "Are you okay?"

I nodded, which I instantly regretted because my brain felt like it was being hit with repeatedly a baseball bat.  "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. 

She furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips, "You don't look so good.  Did you get sick again?"

"No."

She sighed, "Alright.  Do you want me to make you something to help settle your stomach?"

Yeah, three fully loaded beef burritos with hot sauce and a lot of fucking coffee.

I shook my head and walked by her, heading back to my bedroom.  She followed behind me towards the stairs and muttered something about sending Matisse up. 

I got back in my room and fell onto my bed, bringing my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them tight.  My hangover was bad, but it wasn't nearly painful as each and every heartbeat that pounded sorely in my chest. I closed my eyes until I heard a soft knock at my door, followed by a quiet voice.

"Knock, knock?"  I lifted my head on my pillow slightly so I could see her.  Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she looked exhausted, but she seemed to be recovered for the most part.  She smiled at me as she walked in my room and sat on the edge of my bed.  "Here's your bag," she said as she set it on the bed, but pulled out a white paper bag before she did, "And here's your hangover food."

My eyes lit up in gratitude as I forced myself to sit up.  I took the bag from her and opened it, pulling out the most disgusting yet delicious looking burrito I've ever seen. 

Matisse was my fucking hero. 

"Thanks," I said after I forcing down the first bite, feeling worse then suddenly better. 

She smiled back at me, "No problem.  How are you feeling?"

I shrugged, "Like I drank half a bottle of Jack," I told her honestly.  "What about you?  You don't seem too hung over."

She smiled slyly at me, "I only had one drink.  Mark Thompson kept my mouth pretty busy last night." 

I rolled my eyes and snorted.  "Is that the blonde's name?"  She smiled and winked at me.  "You get his number?" 

She nodded and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, flipping it open to a very graphic text message. "We've been sexting all day." 

I cringed and almost choked on my burrito.  I quickly looked away from her phone before another one popped up and I was forced to read more than I wanted to know about her sex life.  She barely knew the guy twelve hours and she already had him talking dirty to her. I had to give it to Matisse, she knew how to work fast.  She laughed at my reaction and starting typing a reply.  I ate the rest of my burrito, already feeling much better than I had when I first woke up.  Now all I needed was some ibuprofen and a vat of coffee.

I heard her snap her phone shut and let out a sigh.  I looked up to meet her gaze and she eyed me worriedly, "Are you okay?" 

"I am now, thanks to your burrito," I said evasively.

She eyed me long and hard, "That's not what I'm talking about." 

Well, no shit.

I sighed and looked down to my hands, fighting back the urge to fall apart again.  "I will be.  Eventually," I whispered.

She was quiet for a moment longer before asking me, "What do you need?"

I sighed, "Catharsis."

"Last night wasn't enough?" she joked. 

"A different kind of catharsis," I specified. 

"I know.  Have anything in mind?"

"I don't know..."

"We could slash Bianca's tires," she suggested a little too enthusiastically. 

I eyed her petulantly, "Because that's mature." 

She snorted, "Well, I don't see you coming up with anything better."

We sat on my bed silently for a long moment.  She looked around my room preoccupied, as if she were deep in thought.  My mind drifted as I looked away from her.  I stared absentmindedly at the corner of my bedroom.  The corner where just one week ago, Connor stood trembling as he leaned himself against it in hysterics.  The look in his eyes was as clear as glass.  It was like he was still standing there, looking at me terrified.  Looking at me for help... 

The loud ringer of Matisse's phone startled me out of my trance and my eyes fell back to her.  She flipped it back open.  "It's my mom.  I gotta get home," she started as she stood up from my bed.  "Text me if you need anything else, I'll try to get away."

I smiled at her thankfully.  "Yeah, sure.  Thanks."

"No problem.  See you at school tomorrow.  And start brainstorming ideas!  I think we all could use a little catharsis," she said with a wink and she opened my bedroom door and left. 

I let out a sigh as I picked up the garbage from my food and balled it up.  I tossed it toward the small garbage can next to my desk, but of course I missed and it landed on the floor.  I didn't even care to go pick it up.  I flung myself back on my bed, covering my face with my hands, dreading having to go back to school in the morning. 

I didn't know if Connor would be there, or even if I wanted him to be.  And if he was, what would I do?  Do I talk to him, or just ignore him?  And...Oh god, what about our tutoring sessions?!  How awkward were those going to be now?  That's if he's still my math tutor... if he's even still in school.

I tried not to think about what happened at the party last night.  Even though I was drunk, the images were still clear in my head.  It made me wish Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was a real concept.  I would get those last memories of Connor erased forever.  Too bad I was stuck with the images of Bianca straddling him in the hot tub, pressing herself against him hard, with him remaining completely still.  And what hurt the most was that he didn't push her away.  He pushed me.

I could feel the tears swelling in my eyes when I heard a soft knock at my door.  I pushed them back down and looked up to see my mother.  She stood in my doorway eyeing me curiously, holding a bottle of water in her hand.  "I thought you might be thirsty."  I forced a small smile and nodded my head.  She walked in my room and handed it to me.  I gulped half of it down quickly, not realizing how parched my mouth had been.  She sat down at the foot of my bed with a small smile.  "Do you feel up to going to school tomorrow?"

I thought about that long and hard before I answered.  "Yeah, I'm feeling better.  Just tired."

I could have easily used my hangover as a 'get out of jail free card', but I chose not to.  As much as an extra day to myself sounded nice, the idea of getting tomorrow done and over with sounded even better. If he was there, I'd face him.  I wouldn't ignore him,  I wouldn't act angry or hurt or different, I would just smile like I always did, and keep on walking.  And if he wasn't... then I'd have a whole other list of reasons to be worried. 

"Alright.  Why don't you just rest today and we'll see how you feel in the morning," she suggested as she stood up.  I nodded my head, thankful I still had a good sixteen hours before I {/}had to get out of bed.  My mother walked over to my window and reached her hand to open the drapes. 

"Don't!"  I shouted.  I didn't mean to say it so loud and demanding, but opening those curtains was the last thing I wanted to do. 

She eyed me curiously, "It's beautiful out today, almost sixty.  I thought you might like some fresh air." 

Fucking figured.

I shook my head, "No, I still have a headache and the light makes it worse," I explained. 

She nodded her head understandingly and turned toward the door.  "Just holler if you need anything." 

"Okay," I said as she walked into the hallway and closed the door behind her. 

I never needed to call Matisse or my parents for anything that night.  I simply lay in my bed, staring at my ceiling, wishing more than anything that Lacuna Inc. actually existed. 

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A/N:  For those wondering what "Lacuna Inc." is, it is the name of the company in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind that erases chosen memories for their patients.  If you have not seen the movie, I highly recommend.  It's one of my all time favorites.  Very trippy though, just to warn you.