Alive

Chapter 12

Elle

(Thursday, May 9)

Oliver hasn't knocked for two days.

Hasn't been home either. My notes are piling up, along with my anxiety. It probably has nothing to do with me, but I can't help but wonder about it. Worry about it. Pace my apartment between work and classes, stare out the window, clean the window, then stare out it again.

I've gone through two packs of cigarettes since Monday. It's Thursday, and I need more. But I don't want to go out. I don't think I can go out. It's a buttload of mental prep on any day, and right now I don't think I can do it. So I just have to pace, try to write, but then pace again.

"Damn it." I guess it's a conclusion I reach, shortly before pressing Celeste's contact. It's Thursday afternoon, so she's not in class. Possibly willing to be my knight in shining armor.

"Hey," she says. "Is something wrong?"

It is weird I'm calling, now that I think about it. We both prefer texts. So I guess that settles it. I'm officially bothered by the whole thing.

"Can you bring me cigarettes?" I ask, wincing at how direct I'm being. We're close enough, though. She should know I'm not using her.

"Sure," she says. "I'm finishing up an assignment."

"You can bring it over," I say. Apparently this is urgent now, too.

"What's going on?" she asks. "Are you okay?"

"No," I say. "I need you."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she says. Then she hangs up. It's rare for one of us to call in an urgent favor like this. Let's be honest. It's usually me. Okay, it's always me. The only thing Celeste ever asks for is my attention, which I'd give to her whether or not she asked.

I'm doing stretches when she arrives, and I almost pounce on the door to let her in. She opens her mouth to say something but then stops, handing the pack over as she frowns past me, taking a couple whiffs.

"What..." She takes her shoes off, stepping through. "Are you summoning Satan or something?"

I guess there are an inappropriate amount of candles lit. And I burned some incense a few hours ago. Oh. I also forgot to turn the lights back on.

"No," I say, ripping the plastic off the pack. "Just doing yoga."

"Yoga on steroids," she says, raising an eyebrow.

"Smoke," I say. I meant to ask it, but who am I kidding? It's not an option. She follows me to the balcony, slipping on the house shoes I toss to her.

"Seriously, what's going on?" she asks, looking at my hand pointedly when I offer the lighter to her. Right. I didn't give her time to put gloves on. I just light it for her, taking a few deep breaths before I'm ready to talk. Thank God she's patient. I guess she couldn't be my best friend if she wasn't.

"He hasn't come back," I say. "I think he moved out."

"Oliver?" she asks. I nod.

"It's weird," she says, taking a drag. "I haven't seen him on campus all week, now that you mention it."

"It's my fault," I say, shaking my head. Like I can't believe it. "I bet he quit. He just...quit. And it's all my fault."

"Elle," she says. "I love you. So much. You know that. But I doubt he'd just quit because of you. After a weird weekend. That doesn't make sense."