On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Twenty - "Side Effects"

She shrugged, “I’ll get over it. Come on,” she said, turning on the TV.

I sat next to her as she handed me a blanket.

“I’m sorry your heart’s broken, Chloe. I wish that I could do more, but I hope that this will help. If only a little.”

It already has. A welcome distraction, she said.

“ . . .You and Sarah, you could have something great. Hold on to that.”

Everything seemed to be coming together now. Maybe when I fully wrapped my head around it, I would see the big picture. For now, everything was blurry, cracked and frankly, my eyes hurt from all the crying.

She handed me a tub and a spoon, “So, which one first?”

*

I woke up the next morning curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped under a comforter, the lights in the living room lights all dimmed.

For a minute, I forgot absolutely everything. Then, I saw the DVD cases lying on the table, and it came rushing back. That was how it was every night; I’d wake up feeling a slight emptiness inside me; then, I’d wonder why, and then the memories would start rushing back.

“You were right. All good things come to an end; this is ours. Please don’t visit or call or . . . write. I’m sorry. Don’t wait for me. We were great, but there’s somebody better out there for you.”

I sat up slowly, pulling the covers off me. I was still in my pajamas from three days earlier; I hadn’t had anything to eat – besides the ice-cream – and my stomach was reacting noisily; I hadn’t had a shower in a while either, and I was starting to feel so gross.

I got up and walked towards the kitchen, where Sarah was standing, pouring herself a cup of coffee, as she talked on the phone.

She smiled at me as I walked in, pushing a large tray of bacon, scrambled eggs, crepes, bread, marmalade, sausages and so much more, that my eyes just glazed over. It was like an entire buffet for one.

“Hold on a second, Jake,” she said into the phone and then to me, she said, “I’m spoiling you. Eat up,” with a smile, as she pushed a glass of orange juice towards me.

I smiled – well, I tried to – and for a minute, that emptiness was mildly forgotten. At least pushed to the back of my mind.

Then she put her phone to her ear and turned away from me and said, “Yeah, sorry.”

Even if she hadn’t said his name, I’d have known it was Jake – the cop guy from my interrogation and from Bergdorf’s.

It was her entire demeanor. I’m no expert in micro-expressions, but everything about her said he was so much more than just a friend. It was like she felt he was right there with her, watching her, so her self-consciousness was on a high. At least it seemed that way.

It was the way I felt when I could hear Fitch’s voice coming through the phone.

Oh God. Fitch.

I felt the crepes begin to taste funny. Or maybe I was projecting.

“Okay . . . I’ll call you later . . . Yeah.” She hung up and turned to me, “So, how do we feel this morning?” she asked, a bright smile plastered on her face.

She was trying. She was really trying.

I nodded, “Better.”

I could try too. That was the point, wasn’t it?