The Lonely

Page 8

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.
Chapter Four
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.
So I do.
I get away with not improving or changing.
The worst is that I see it. I ride on their understanding and the pathetic way they see me. I'm technically doing well. For people like me, breathing and eating and showering, is doing well. I hate doing well. I just want to be normal. I want to be his.
I push it back angrily and drive my feet harder.
A flash of something takes me out of my raging run. The treadmill slows right down and stops. I'm gasping and heaving for air. I bend forward immediately.
"Wh-wh-what are you doing?" I ask in between panting and coughing.
Sebastian is in my face, "You trying to die?" He's angry.
"I was fine." I'm humiliated just seeing him.
I ran out on him.
His hazel eyes are greener than normal. Against his olive skin they stand out, as does the worry and concern plastered to his face.
I stand up straight and climb off the treadmill. He grabs my arm. I pull harshly. I stop myself mid pull and shake my head, "Sor-sorry."
He puts his hand in the air fast, "No. I'm sorry. But you looked like you were about to pass out."
I put my hands on my hips and pace, "I was." I laugh and cough. My throat is ragged. I force myself to look at him, "I'm sorry."
He shakes his head, "No. Don't be. I shouldn’t have grabbed at you." He still gets it. Even after running out o him, he gets it.
I laugh, "I mean about the penthouse." I clear my throat and notice it's not happy with me. It hurts like it's bleeding.
He nods, looking crushed. "Ah yes, the lovely dinner I had being made for you that you ran out on. Yes, I suppose you owe me an apology for that. The chef was at my place for five hours prepping. It was delicious. You missed out. Maybe next time?"
I pace back and forth, "I don’t have an excuse. I'm just…well…I'm sorry." I could cry any second. I'm so embarrassed. I hate myself so much. I would do anything to make it okay, make me be normal.
He pulls hand sanitizer from his jogging pants pocket and holds it up. I burst into laughter. He smiles, "You've got me addicted."
He pours some on my hands and then his. I rub them and walk for the wipe cloths. I tug a few out of the dispenser and go clean my machine.
He grabs my water bottle. I can't drink from it now, but it was nice of him to grab it.
He sees me eyeballing his hands on my water bottle. He holds it out, "Drink some." His eyes challenge me.
I look at him, "I can't." I can't fight the frown on my face.
He stands in front of me and shakes his head, "Do it."
I stop and look at the bottle.
He speaks loudly, "I've cleaned my hands. I never touched anything before I touched it. Just have some water."
If only he knew what he was asking me. I shake my head and try to walk past him. He grabs my arm again. I don't pull away. He drags me into his embrace. He holds me tight to his chest. His shirt is damp with the sweat from his own workout.
I could die feeling the cold, damp fabric against my face.
"Drink it, Emalyn. Please." His voice has become a whisper.
I whisper back, "How did you know I wouldn’t have any?" He takes my hand in his and pulls me outside.
The fresh air is nice. It's not one hundred percent fresh with the humidity but it's better than the recycled air in the gym.
I pull at his hand, "How did you know?"
His eyes say things he doesn’t want to.
I jerk my hand free, "Which website did you check out?" I hate being diagnosed. He isn’t the first person to do it.
He sighs, "I called my uncle. He recommended a friend. I told him that you saw that chef and that penthouse and you spazzed. Any normal girl would have died and gone to heaven for a guy to put that kind of effort in."
Normal.
He sees how not normal I am.
My jaw trembles. I point, "I never asked you to be my friend. I never asked for your help." I stomp away. I would run but my legs are almost crippled from the run. It's a bad feeling. I ran so hard I can't run away when I need to.
I can hear his footsteps behind me. My heart races. I look back, "Just leave me alone."
He shakes his head and does the thing I asked him to do. He turns away and walks off. It disappoints me, which makes me mad at myself.
I hate being a predictable girl.
I slow down as I reach my dorm. He's standing on the steps with his arms crossed, breathing heavily. He's run around the other side of the building to beat me here.
"Didn’t your uncle's friend explain about the paranoia, people like me get?" I ask, trying desperately to be funny. I joke, praying he will give up on the water thing. The worst part about being me, is realizing how irrational I am. I only ever see it afterward. I know in an hour I'll be upset with myself.
Sebastian nods slowly, "He did. He also said that the only way to help was to force you out of your comfort zone, one tiny baby step at a time. He walks down the steps and holds my water bottle out. "Drink some."
I panic, "You've taken it with you. You could have done something to it." I almost stutter. I see the irrational behavior but am incapable of stopping it.
He shakes his head, "I sprinted around the building to beat you here. You know that it's impossible for me to even have longer than a second to unscrew it. I would have missed you if I had. Drink some."
I snatch the bottle as my anger flares, "You're making a big deal about nothing." I snap at him.
"The penthouse wasn't nothing. Baby steps, Em."
The New Leaf. If not for him, for me, I sigh, unscrewing the cap and I licking my lips. His eyes are hopeful. I can't stop the trembling hand or the twitching lips, as I lift it to my mouth. The warmth of the plastic makes me sick. I almost gag but I tilt it back. He watches every tremble. Every motion and emotion.
I blank my mind and let the liquid pour into the back of my mouth." My throat wants to close. My lips want to clamp shut. But I take the control and force myself to drink the liquid. I lower the bottle and screw the cap on. "Happy?" My words are cold and dead. I'm angry and I hate that it's not entirely him I'm mad at.
"Not even close." His voice is so hard and filled with disgust. I disgust him. I can see it. He walks away from me. Leaving me standing on the stairs.
In the shower, I spend a long time trying to talk myself out of the crazy way I am acting. I like him. I like him a lot. But the crazy side of me has made up her mind. She hates him. She hates the challenges he creates. She likes the safety and comfort of the routine. There isn’t any point in arguing with her when she's lie this. I shut my mind down and try to relax and not think about the communal showers.
I rinse off and wrap myself in my robe. I shuffle down the hall, looking behind me several times. I despise the communal showers. It's the worst part of my day. I have to drag travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner and put them through the dishwasher afterward. Not to mention the number of rubber shower shoes I've gone through or the fact I can't touch the shower curtain with my bare hand, I always have wipes next to me.
Shell looks up from her phone when I walk in, "You okay?"
I shake my head, "I'm tired of being a shell of a human. I would do anything to be a real girl."
She grimaces but snorts, "It's not that bad. You're getting better everyday. I never would have imagined you would make dorm life happen and look at you. And we went to the bar. And you've eaten in restaurants. And Sebastian seems nice. Hot and nice."
I shake my head. "I don’t want to see him anymore."
She sits up on her bed. "Did he try something?"
I frown, "No. He's just like everyone else. He'll never see me." I lie back on the bed and close my eyes. She climbs on the bed with me and wraps herself around me. She smells like pumpkin-spice. It makes me happy.
"I see you."
I nod, "I know."
Her warmth and softness is comforting. I imagine it's what a mother feels like.
I let her wrap around me and be there. Be the wall that separates the girl I am and the girl I want to be. I feel her fingers at my ears. We're sharing ear buds, like we did when we were little. Mine smells like sani wipes. It makes me smile and feel grateful.
Bon Iver starts singing and I forget everything. It's me and her. I don’t need boys. I need her and ear buds, one for her and one for me. Mine has to be clean though.
My phone vibrates. I grab it.
'Hi. Are you having a good day?'
I'm confused. 'Hi. Did Doctor Bradley up your meds? You seem cheerful.' It's brazen of me, but I don’t care at the moment.
'Funny girl. What are you doing?'
'Hanging out. Listening to music with Shell.'
'Call her Michelle please. What are you listening to?'
I grin, 'Bon Iver.'
'Bon Iver is a very talented group. I've been to four of their concerts.'
I laugh, 'No way.'
'Way! See how silly it sounds. Please speak like an adult.'
I laugh. Michelle moans, "What are you doing?"
"He's being funny."
"Who?"
I grin, "Uncle Daddy Dude. He's been to like four of Bon Iver's concerts."