Flawless Fiction

Fixable?

Sitting in the center of my carpet-covered floor, I watched as drops of water fell from my hair to the messages on my phone. I stared at the letters that had become distorted by the droplets and wished they would form real words. Instead, all I saw was gibberish. Alyssa had sent me a collection of letters and spaces and punctuation that did not fit together even slightly. My heart sank at the realzation that she must have gotten drunk. Drunk texting was something I'd heard of throughout my life, but never been on the recieving end of. Until now, that is. It didn't feel very good. 

My fingers tapped on the sides of my phone as if it could write a text to describe what I was feeling. Words glided through my mind peacefully, but disappeared like the Cheshire cat when I tried to make them into a sentence. Giving up, I simply punched in the letters of her name, chasing a question mark. I rolled onto my side and winced as my back pain startled me. Comfort avoided me repeatedly and I pulled myself to a sitting position, glancing at my phone. The tone of a new text message sounded and I shook my hair out, pulling it to the wrong side. I stole a glimpse of the beat-up phone from the corner of my eye and crossed my fingers before reading it. Immature, I know--but it was an old habit. 

I felt the awkwardness of the whole situation overwhelm me as I read back the simple message. Hi. If I had fur on the back of my neck it would have been standing on end. I was not certain of what I wanted her to say, all I knew was that hi was not it. I felt a stitch of my heart break in half as the change of our conversations became apparent. We sent hellos and words of seriousness rather than lighthearted heys and silliness. Our relationship was a balloon but I felt the helium begin to escape and leave behind heaviness and the need for effort to keep the damned thing off of the ground. My heart soared like an eagle whenever I talked to her but now it felt as if the eagle had been shot and I wasn't quite sure whether or not it would be dead before it hit the ground. 

Words and metaphors fit into my empty heart like puzzle pieces but they were not satisfying because I knew the only one who'd ever hear them was myself. I shot back a hateful responce to the girl that I used to call my love and slammed my fist into the carpet. I was unsure what I had done to screw us up this time but that would certainly become apparent soon. Tears leaked out of my eyes as if they were faucets and I laid in a pool of silent agony. Driven by anger and self loathing I decided I was done talking through a phone and demanded for her address. 

Too young to drive, I cleaned up my appearance and put on my good girl smile to beg my mother for a ride. I laced up my converse and brushed my hair into something that wasn't too horendous. I slid a black eye pencil across my upper and lower lash line so that I didn't feel like complete shit. I stared back at my reflection and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. 

In the car I popped in my headphones to ease my nerves and replaced them every time my mother took them out. I didn't care that she thought it was rude. I needed my music. When we pulled up to her house, my eyes widened and a blast of confusion invaded my thoughts. I ignored my mother saying "holy shit" under her breath, despite the fact that it bothered me. Most of what she says does. I pulled onto the hot door handle and pressed my shoulder on the door to swing it open. I ducked as I got out and shut the door once both feet rested on the gravel. Stepping back from the car, I let it drive off. I had made it very clear to my mother that she was not to wait until I was inside the house and somehow convinced her to just drop me off.

I hesitated as I raised my fist to her door and wondered what I was doing. I was definitely too much of a wuss to just accept confrontation. Could I really yell at her for getting drunk? I lowered my arm and chewed on my lip for second, thinking. I looked down the street where my mother's car had disappeared and ran a hand through my bangs, pushing them back. I jumped back a foot when I heard the door begin to open and felt a chill of fear race up my spine.