It's done.
I tear rolled down my cheek. Flicking on my laptop, I hit the page Dutch so artfully constructed as his anthology to those he literally screwed over. The white screen glowed, Page Not Found. I quickly texted a reply.
Thank you. I'm really sorry. Please call me. We need to talk.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I waited for Jess. The screen stayed blank. I waited. I waited until I got anxious. Five minutes turned into ten, which slowly faded into an hour. I curled into a ball under the comforter, clutching my phone. It was a cave from the rest of the world, filled with the rotten cloud of my unbrushed teeth. Three hours later, I climbed out knowing the truth.
I chunked my phone against the wall, sending parts in every direction. I got chills hearing the sound. Grabbing the laptop off my bed, I hurled it through the air too. The HP made direct contact with the mirror above my dresser. Shards of glass exploded all over the room. The computer landed with a thud, still intact. I picked up the laptop and flung it again, this time watching the screen break into pieces as it hit the closet door.
I sank to the floor, feeling the sobs shake my body. Nothing was making it better. I noticed the tattoo on my wrist. Scratching at the design with my nails, I wished it would go away. I wished I could just scrap it off my skin. It reminded me of everything horrible. It reminded me that he was gone. If I wouldn't die in a puddle of crimson blood, I would just cut the damn thing off with a kitchen knife.
The truth hurt. I deserved every piece of this grief for what I did to my dear friend. All these months, I knew where he stood and I chose to ignore and pretend his feelings were not real. He should hate me. Yet, he saved me once again. Jess fulfilled his last promise before exiting from my life.
Yanking open my desk drawer, I pulled out my list and studied all the varying degrees of charity from the Mason family. The latest entry always seemed inevitable. Clenching the pen between my fingers, I wrote Jess Mason in big letters taking up three spaces. Tears fell on the page. I shoved the old piece of notebook paper back in its hiding place.
Pulling out my iPod, I flipped through the country playlists created by Jess. I found the one in question that contained just the right amount of twangy sap. Keith Urban knew just how bad I felt tonight. His soft voice brought me no closer to the person who gave me the disc; it just made the pain worse.
I turned up the volume, knowing I deserved to hurt. Stretching out on my back across the floor, I let the shards of glass poke and cut my skin.
Chapter 32
When I was twenty…
Today was my birthday. I waited and waited and waited. Jess didn’t call or even text, let alone bring me a giant bag of sugar-coated, orange slices. He had started the tradition on my tenth birthday when Mrs. Mason took him to this candy store in Dallas. The next year, they brought me to the actual place. It was a two-story building that was every kid’s fantasy. Jess got me a bag of orange slices every year from that store; every year until today.
Sitting on the floor of my bedroom, I took another drink of tequila. It was only four o’clock, but I was already drunk. Pulling open my dresser drawer, I exchanged the tequila bottle for vodka. I had learned that vodka didn’t make me quit as nauseous, but I’d grown to like the taste of tequila, so I usually switched midpoint.
I tipped back the bottle, feeling it trickle into my stomach and spread like fire through my veins. Tears fell down my cheeks, but the alcohol made it not hurt quit so bad. I fell back against the carpet, spilling some on the floor. My room already smelled like liquor and vomit and sweat. I lived in filth and I really didn’t care; it wasn’t like it was the first time.
Sadie opened my door without knocking. She came over and yanked the bottle out of my hand. “That’s enough self-pity.”
“Whatever.”
“Get off that disgusting floor. I got you a birthday cake.”
“I don’t want cake.”
“Well, you are not sitting in here drinking yourself into oblivion tonight. Get up and eat the cake I bought you.” She stomped her foot against the carpet.
I crawled up the side of my bed, using it as a crutch. Stumbling into the kitchen, I saw a gourmet cake with writing that said, Happy Birthday Alex. The happy letters made me want to smash it.
“You better not sing to me.”
“I won’t sing,” she smiled as she opened some party plates.
I was dizzy. I was drunk. Reaching for the edge of the cabinet, I tried to steady myself. Instead, I accidently grabbed the side of the cake box and fell backwards into the floor, bringing the beautiful creation down with me.
I laughed. Lifting my arm, I licked icing off my fingers. I laughed and I laughed. I had cake in my hair and on my face. I laughed, and I wondered if it was the one that Jess liked to hear. I laughed some more as I licked the icing off that damn tattoo. I laughed as Sadie’s face exploded into a red, angry demon.
“Give it to me!” she yelled.
“Give what?”
“Damn it! Get your ass up and give me that fake ID. I’m not putting up with your self-loathing, drunken fits anymore. This stops tonight, Alex!”
I stopped laughing. Sadie never cursed. She said it was an inappropriate crutch of someone who lacked a vocabulary. Sadie cursed, which meant she officially had enough of me. Good. I didn’t deserve someone as nice as Sadie.
She left the room and came back with some book in her hand. Sadie handed it to me as I used the cake as a pillow on the floor. “That’s your birthday present.”
The cover mentioned something about the art of expressing your feelings in constructive ways instead of destructive outbursts. “Super exciting! You got me a self-help book.” I threw it across the room.
This would not make a damn bit of difference. I was alone. I was sad. Jess hated me. His parents still made weekly deposits into my bank account. My title grew to poor – homeless – charity case – angry – shitty friend – slut girl.
I missed him. He walked around on campus every day, just a few steps out of reach. I wanted to see Jess, not read some nonsense about coping. I cried again, making snot drip to the floor and all over the cake. Jess’s absence made a crack in my heart; a deep, jagged hole that could only be filled by the one who created it.
Chapter 33
Today, 3:37 a.m.
I open my eyes just enough to see that my father’s truck is still on the interstate. The trip to Dallas was like a never ending roller coaster, teasing into the pit of hell.
“Alex, you awake?”
“No,” I mutter.
I watch the white line on the side of the asphalt. The headlights from the truck make it sparkle. Just yesterday, I drove down the same highway to Arlis. It seemed like a million years ago. His cell phone rings and I sit straight up in the truck. He answers and I know immediately the caller is Caroline.
“We’re about twenty minutes outside of Fort Worth.” He pauses and I hear her voice but not the words. “Ok. That’s fine…Ok…Bye…Love you too.”
He clicks end on the screen and glances over at me. His face seems tense, so I look out the window. Something catches my attention. In the depths of the dark sky, I see a shooting star. As always, I clench my eyes tight. I say the same words I have muttered for years. Opening my lashes, I gaze into the darkness. The glittery image is gone from the night as if it never graced us with its presence.
“Alex?” My father speaks from the driver’s seat.
I didn’t want to know about the phone call. I didn’t want to know what she said. I pretend to be asleep. I pretend to not be here. I pretend to disappear like a shooting star in the night.
Chapter 34