Today is Friday. The last two seemed to go on and on in an agonizing slow pace.
Its nearing Saturday, the day of my beloved 18th birthday, as dawn quickly spirals into orange tinged dusk, the d-day of his birthday, as the clock on my phones glows 9:18 and neither of best friends have contacted me to talk to me reasonably or to apologize. Are they asleep? Or they just occupied? Even as I think these thoughts, I know that they are not the case.
I bite my lip, my bottom lip caught in between the incisor behind the top lip, and peer over the rim of the random book on leadership in the spirit world and how to harness it- now why is there a book telling me how to do my job?
Buzz off- a small portion of its old eland worn out brittle pages trapped underneath the pressing down of my fingers at the screen of my phones, hoping, expecting its information would have changed in the last time I checked it in the last one minute.
But the sight stays the same unread and ignored, even though it has its signatures positive strokes of deliverance testifying g to its purpose next to it.
Unresponded to but read. A large lump of sadness and disappointment, ever the secondary emotion I've been feeling since the incident of yesterday afternoon that refuses to leave no matter how many times I've been proven wrong time and time again, former easily overpowering any other emotion my heart and soul can possibly contour up in its daily dealing with people and coagulation, dried up and hardened matter instead of liquid substance clings to the taste buds on my tongue.
But no matter how badly I wish it to change, it hardly ever does concede to my wishful demands. Not unless someone makes the first.
But why does that have to be me? Why is it always me that fixes our problems after every fight? Or Eberlyn? Why does Riley never take the first initiative?
Suddenly, my lungs burn as they fid it too hard to perform their daily norm of breathing and breathing out, each intake and outtake harsh against the shuddering and trembling of its trachea and tubular branches, a heavier task to bear than the prevalent trying to breathe in enough air to feel okay as tears blur my vision.
“Maybe if I just give them a few more minutes, another hour if need be, and they’ll respond…..?” I whisper to myself my foolish heart with its hopeful desire to give people a second chance when they be hurt me too much.
My eyes stay glued to the dimming light of the screen, hoping, searching and waiting, but yet no response, no acknowledgement, except for the blue stokes that now mock me with a triumphant grin at me in their silent victory. Truth is a harder pill to swallow than fiction.
Have I really lost them? I’ve known them and loved them like sisters since I was 6 so we’ve grown up together and gone through a lot together. All the fun times we had, all the frustration and irritation of being treated like a kid but expected to act like an adult we suffered through, all the pain we went through together, sometimes caused by our family, sometimes by our peers, and sometimes caused by ourselves, all the silent and comforting hugs we offered to one another in our times of need.
Eberlyn and I especially have grown closer in our relationship with each other-she always made me feel loved and cared for even in my darkest times- because we knew un our deepest of hearts no one would ever understand us the way we understand each other as if we’re connected to a single heartbeat.
Sisters from another mother. Or rather, another family. I can’t imagine-I don’t want to even, just the thought makes me down and hopeless-a life on my own without her. Can she?
Is she really just gonna throw all of that away for her? For Riley? After all we’ve been through together? I never knew I was that disposable.
Absentmindedly, I run my fingers up and down on the screen whose light had already gone out, as I co template my feelings and thoughts on what to do next as my plan of action. Accept the inevitable truth or reject it and fight keep our friendship and our sisterhood?
The truth does often distance fact from fiction and it could save me the heartache if I just accept it now and move on with my life without them, without her.
A bright idea pinged off in my mind, the sudden blast of positive energy springing all the negative feelings aside for the time being long enough for possible solution to sink into my core. Bolting upright in bed, the otherwise cool cotton blanket slid off my shoulders where it had been half heartedly placed upon, I beam at the darkness of my phone.
Looks like I'm going out to party soon.
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Tossing and turning all a ways into the early morn, I could hardly sit still on my bed as I could handle the unmetered and uncontrolled energy that flowed through like a river bank-or was that nervousness?- the golden light of the sun, filtering in between the bars of window. It showered the room in fragments of glittering gold , one face of the giant ball melting into the room like a spinning disco ball. I wasn't so sure how my parents would react to my 'request' for a sleepover over at Eberlyn’s.
Of course it wasn't uncommon that we had sleepovers on every weekend as it was the only day we were free from any and every obligation.
But would they agree? Normally, we were a happy go lucky family that had no problems spending quality time with each other, even though it was quite lengthy, or just having our furniture airy banter with other mixed in with some of our opinionated world squabbles but lately things had been terse.
Mostly between my parents who made no effort to hide what was going on between them on eavesdropping silent nights in the house. Sometimes, their bad mood obtrusive spread out like a wild untamed familiar flame that sought to burn and wound anything in its blazing path. I didn't want to be caught in the middle of it, or worse, be the one to be the mule that finally broke the camel's already weakening back.
After being married to each other for so long, after spending so many years building and creating, and mending nothing into something precious with each other, I didn't want I to all come to a painful waste of lives, of painful and beautiful time spent with each other, to come torn apart just because of me.
Was I overthinking this?
Possibly.
Definitely.
Am I going to do the obvious thing and get it over with to prove my pessimistic side wrong?
Nope.
"Hey, short-stuff, what you worrying about?"
A voice I know all too well inquired to the mistaken space between is. I can already see her posture in my mind's eyes; relaxed shoulders drawn down in a cool slouch, long soft arms flung loosely apart in different directions upon her tender bosom, a leg slid outward while the other stayed on the wooden panel of the door. I flicker my gaze over my shoulder for a few moments of short eye contact.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"I'm.......just thinking." I lie half-heartedly as I contemplate my options , legs pacing round my room in unperturbed breathing. Burning thoughts that raced about in my head fueled anxiety and overwhelming senses, in their connection to my restless feet, hadn't caught up reality yet.
"Just thinking? Bullshit. If you were just thinking, you wouldn't be looking as if you were about to cry or be pacing around your room either." Footsteps echoed in my head as they drew near till I could see the brown ankle lengthened boots covered scantily in fur. I scrunched up my nose as I knew where they had most definitely come from and turned my attention to her inquiring concerned eyes instead. Black eyes searched mine with careful worry. “Eliza, what's wrong?"
"Huh?" I spammed as I zoned back into reality, eyes fluttering as they blink in rapid succession. "Oh, sorry I just zoned out." I shook my head to clear the woozy feeling gotten from the fog clouding my mind.
She snorted a little but her expression clued to her face never moves or changes , although light cheer dance in those dedicated eyes. Her boots move in the direction of my bed and distracted and half interested, I follow the curious movement with my eyes.
She patted the space next to her. “Come, sit and tell me all about your friendship woes.”
“Really? You’re inviting to come sit on my own bed?” I question sceptical of her sudden command. My feet walk over to the my bed and fall underneath the edge of my bed as I drop onto it unceremoniously, the possibility of disobeying her ordered flickering in and flowing out of my grasp as I consider it for a brief second before doing away with idea completely.
I don’t speak for a while and instead focus on my hands placed on my kneecaps instead. “Well, Riley almost revealed to the whole school the existence of werewolves and then accused me of being selfish when I called her out for it. Then Eberlyn-“ I pause as the betrayal still burns brightly I my chest. I close my eyes. “She took her side.”
“She what? That bitch. Why on earth? Where does she live again?” Sh burst out in angry waves of fierce sisterly love. I smile a little as I wipe a rough hand over my eyelids, coming away with my tears.
“Don’t. It’ll just make things worse and I might actually lose her forever if I haven’t already.” The bed sunk in again.
I laid my head on her strong shoulder.
Nimble fingers played with tresses of my hair before reverting to their usual spot of offered comfort, rubbing deliciously soothing circles into my scalp.
“I’m thinking of asking mom and dad If I can go over to my friend’s house for a sleepover with them like we usually do. But I’m going to a party that’s holding at the same place instead.” I swallow nervously and look back up at her.
“And I’m not so sure how they’re going to take it.” I added without being probed or cajoled into adding more information about the crisis I was having. I breathed out a slow stream of unknown and unsettled air. “Thoughts?”
Contemplative silence steeled between us. “Is it-I’d hate to pry- James’s party you’re going to because they’re going to be there as well?”
Hesitation cuts my words off for the faintest of seconds, but she notices it in a split second. She doesn’t say anything about it and instead awaits my response.
“Yeah. It’s pretty ironical of you think about it.” I shrug as I blurt out the words.
“Are you sure about this though? I mean, I don’t want you getting hurt or anything.” She worries, hands reaching over to holding in a quiet shield. I bite my lip. “Its okay, I can easily call for help or call someone’s attention if things get rough."
Besides, three’s a crowd and a threat at the same time. I’m going to be fine” I whisper to her assuredly, a shrill in my borrowed words that didn’t ring true to me as I let them fall from my lips.
“Okay. If you’re sure, I trust you.” She concedes, although I can smell her rebuke and argument a mile away on her tongue. Black eyes struggle to maintain their pigment as it fights with gold.
She breathes in and let it out, her shoulders relenting their upset with their usual straightforward temperament. “I’ll help you.” She lets out.
I’m stunned. “Wait, really?” I ask, remembering a lot of scenarios where one of us, usually being me, who would tell the other off for being stupid and reckless for executing their dangerous plan.
I hadn’t expected her to agree to this idea of mine seeing as its usually the other way around and I for one would never go for it. She laughed, a timber above a whisper but not loud enough to draw unwanted attention.
“Of course. Besides, I isn’t everyday you see the goodie two-shoes rebelling.” Mischief slid down from her words like a savory sauce and for a few seconds, I felt like I had just carelessly dropped an important delicate subject into the most unsubtle and clumsy hands.
But then warmth and security flooded my being. I look up at her with bright eyes filled with love. "Okay."
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I hitch my purse back onto my shoulder. I let out a breathe, staring at the reflection of myself in the mirror. My dark brown eyes stare back at me, scared. I chew my lip as I mentally go through everything, gearing up my weakened and strained nerves about me.
Our plan was to drop me straight at Riley’s first then over to-I wasn’t so sure I would be still be able to look her in the eyes-Eberlyn. Hopefully, her stepsiblings won’t be home at that hour. But of course, that probably won’t happen. Things like these never usually work in my favour.
I’m not even particularly sure if they’d want to see me. I can see this playing out and it doesn’t end so well. My hands clutch the thin black leather of my handbag and squeezes it in a death grip. I don’t want to think pessimistically but what with the look they gave me on Tuesday……..I don’t know what to expect but I hope what I fear won’t become reality.
The door creaks. She pops her head round the open door, dyed dark red-haired falling off her shoulder. “You ready?" She asks, bright bubbly nature splitting forth from her ginning mouth. My shoulders shrug. “As I’ll ever be I guess.”
She paused then walked over. She draped an arm long across my shoulders. “Don’t be like that. Look, if anything turns sour, you can always call me to come pick you up. Anytime.” She squeezed my shoulder, bending her head down onto my own. I took a deep calming breathe of air and nodded.
“Okay.” I managed to get out.
Water suddenly a good idea as any for my parched throat. Thank heavens my words didn't out in a croak instead, She'd never let me live that down. I can already hear the nickname little froggy echoing in my treacherous head like a bad headache.
Altin nods and squeezes my shoulders one last time before her fingers flitter away, taking their reassuring warmth with them.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the car.” She announces back before she leaves. In short strides with her long thick strong legs, she crosses over to the other side of my room. The door slams shut , thudding with a bang.
I swallow. My adam’s apple bobs underneath my chin, hard vertical bone jutting out. Its now or never I guess.
I exit my room, not once looking back.
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The door handle blurs in front of me. My hands still at my sides.
“I can’t do this.” I whisper to myself. I glance at my the dark screen of my ozone and contemplate calling Altin to come take me back home. The offer flashes through my mind. But I leave the phone as is, either too stubborn to call her and admit defeat or too scared to open the box of worms, unawares of what mat await me once I turn covering of the can over.
My eyes water as I close them. My lips clamp onto each other, trying to hold back a whimper.
They’re your friends aren’t they? My thoughts asks.
I’m not sure if it’s mocking me or if it’s asking is genuine.
Our group chat still remains empty. They haven’t spoken a word to me since Tuesday. They’ve been physically avoiding me as if I’m the plague.
If you don’t open the door, you may never know, my subconscious offers.
I let out a breathe.
Fine.
For a few seconds of silence, I don’t move, I don’t breathe. I’m not even sure if my lungs are inhaling enough air as it is. I gulp and reach over, hands reaching out for the dark door handle.
Time to face the music. Whatever symphonies it may be playing, I am willing to dance to it. Not so sure about readiness however.
I reach for the door just as it leans away from my outstretched hand. It leans inwards, slowly opening up to show a familiar face I hadn’t expected to see so soon.