Parties have always been my escape.
Organizing, throwing, attending them... that's where I'd lose myself when I couldn't deal with reality.
For the past few months they had become nothing but a poor excuse for me to drink a lot and end up talking about you to anyone that happened to come near me.
Unlike my close friends that would straight up tell me to wake the fuck up and move on—that I had been dumped and there was no time to waste—Nina could often get me out of my sulking moods without invalidating what I was saying.
Not that she would listen; she'd drag me to the dance-floor, she'd invite me to drink some more and it ended up being effective.
Instead of ruminating about feelings and memories of you, I'd let them go for a while.
I'd become numb as usual but at least I wouldn't feel like a fool.
It took me some time to get that she was interested in me.
I had been blocking those kinds of signs from other girls for so long, ever since we got together or even before that, since I could only think of you.
Yeah, believe it or not, it's true.
It happened on your birthday.
I was at my lowest on that Sunday; she kept me company when I refused to dance and even let me vent about you but nothing could make me feel better that day.
That's when she stopped waiting for me to notice and let it clear she felt something more.
That she wanted to be with me.
I apologized and told her I couldn't.
My friends dissed me for that, especially Luka. He told me to at least think about it and that's what I did.
I thought about it for days til I decided that if she still felt the same way the next time I saw her, I'd give it a chance, too.
Her answer to that was yes, so we hooked up.
The following week some acquaintances of mine saw us together.
It was our third party as more than just friends.
"Are you the girlfriend?" one of the guys half shouted over the deafening (and awful) music the DJ was playing that night. "The girlfriend? You could say that," was her answer. It was supposed to be a joke, she'd tell me later.
But I had already let it become the truth.
What I thought was... It could work.
Maybe that was what I needed.
Frankly, I felt lucky that someone like her would even consider having something serious with someone like me.
I know I wouldn't if I were her, not after listening (mostly unwillingly) to my never-ending monologues about us.
Speaking of which... When I heard them say girlfriend I thought of you, Zoë.
I heard you telling me "Are you never gonna let anyone get close to you again?" and I thought about how you didn't want to be that someone anymore.
You didn't want me anymore, period.
It felt like it would spite you if you knew. That I was following your advice.
It probably wouldn't, I know it's over for you—for real.
Still, it was nice to imagine.
I get that's not a very nice reason to begin dating someone, alright?
Maybe she would have realized it in no time—that dating me was a bad idea.
Maybe if quarantine hadn't started just a few days later, she would have already dumped me as well.
We've seen each other twice since lockdown began but she calls me almost every day to talk about the stuff she's been doing.
I try to mimic her enthusiasm and so far she hasn't noticed I'm mostly faking it.
I wanted for it to be true: to be fine and also seeing a silver lining in all of this, but I'm not.
She talks about how productive and soul searching her days have been, how useful this time can be if you focus on getting to know yourself.
And there I was, struggling because I have to keep myself company.
No big distractions, no one else around, no more loud music no more blinding neon lights and nothing to take me away from reality.
No more numbness.
After 'attending' an online party and despising it, I tried drinking by myself for a couple of days.
It felt so pathetic.
That made me officially give up on the stupid illusion that nothing major was happening, that things would be the same once this is over.
They won't.
I couldn't help thinking about how you'd be handling it.
Better than me, that's obvious. You're good at everything you put your mind to. Even if you're not feeling great, I bet you're helping everyone else while you learn how to cope with this shit.
I ended up wondering how it would have been, to spend this unprecedented times with you.
I caught myself asking "What would Zoë do?" whenever I felt overwhelmed and I have to tell you: my days got slightly better after that. I'm coping by holding onto old healthyish habits. Not that you could call spending the night binge watching shows a healthy habit.
At least it's been helping me after I began having frequent nightmares that won't let me go back to sleep once they wake me up.
It's you there, in my dreams, my subconscious.
And I'm losing you over and over again, night after night.
The day before yesterday I dreamt of you crying and I couldn't reach you—I could hear and see you but couldn't get closer to you.
I woke up sweating as if with a fever, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
I had to check on you.
Yeah, sure I could call Milan, but... I needed to see you.
Just this once.
You wouldn't pick up, I knew it.
It was too much to ask.
You wouldn't pick up and I would have to deal with that. Fuck my nightmares, I'd have to invest my energies on going back to forgetting mode, then.
It would have to be enough.
︾
I spent a day finding courage to call and then an hour in front of my laptop hovering with the cursor over your name.
Looking at your photo.
I was sure of what was going to happen so I thought I could just enjoy the moment before that.
The possibility.
The time where I hadn't tried yet and you hadn't refused to see me yet.
I took a deep breath and with my eyes closed I clicked call.
And a fucking miracle happened.
You did answer.
That left me speechless, as if I've never spoken to you before or worse—as if you're as unattainable as you had been in the dream.
You look beautiful.
More beautiful than in my memories and pictures.
Beautiful and annoyed by my calling, but I feel that there's something else, too.
It's okay to talk now.
We had agreed on not contacting each other but that was before all this, it happened in another world.
It's safer this way, for both of us.
You won't have to deal with me making a fool of myself trying to convince you we could give ourselves another chance, I won't go for a kiss like I did the last time we saw each other; I can't save our love over a video call just like I couldn't save it in person.
And I shouldn't be thinking about this at all because, yeah, I'm with someone else now.
I should focus on that.
It's fine that there's no chance.
Seriously, it's reassuring.
You smile when I point it out—the part I say that I won't start kissing you—and I dive deep into that smile.
I know you're nervous, all the signs are there, but the smile was such a sincere, sweet reaction.
The way you're mocking me and acting like you did once in my living room takes me back to that night. It lets me know you're there too. The very first time you asked me to play you a song, the night you told me to sweep you off your feet.
I know what you're doing. You want to distract me from what you're feeling by bossing me around so you can keep things under (your) control.
You can fool everyone else but you can't fool me, Zoë Loockx.
Just like I can fool everyone else but you.
Now I'm pretty sure that there's something wrong.
Perhaps quarantine sucks for you too and it's weighting you down, I don't know... I just feel you're not well.
You insist that you are, though.
And then you speak of Milan.
Finally an honest moment.
I wanted to make it last but the second I tell you I miss him, it's gone.
You know I'm not speaking only of him, it's in your eyes and probably in mine as well.
I wish I could say I miss you but that would be too much and it would scare you away really fast.
So, let me find something that can put a full stop to this, (the way my mind keeps playing tricks on me) let me let you crush me by saying you have someone else too, that your life is better without me; then I can tell you about my dating life so we can move past this, we can pretend this is a conversation between two old friends.
Except you won't let me in, you won't tell me whether you have a new crush or not.
It sucks because that somehow gives me hope, this insane feeling I make sure to quickly bury deep inside.
Hope of what?
Please stop being so fucking stupid, man.
You ask about me, mostly to get rid of the previous question but I think that deep down you do want to know.
I tell you and I joke about showing you how you can exercise indoors because I want to cheer you up, I want to make you laugh.
But you go back to your nervous habit and act as if I'm flirting and using my body to tease you, instead.
I surrender.
Your grin hurts.
I feel like in the dream, like I can't reach you because you keep slipping away, you keep hiding inside yourself.
You say you have to go and I try to convince you not to, like I've done so many times in the past.
I'm practically begging because I know this might be the last time you'll ever answer me.
And I don't want it to end, I don't want you to go yet.
I can't let you go.
You're irreducible.
Your image disappears from my screen and I look away otherwise all I'd have left is my own reflex and I don't need to see it to know I look pitiful.
Just like that, you're gone and I'm miserable.
And I miss you more than ever and I know I shouldn't miss you.
I should calm down and be glad it happened.
Maybe now the nightmares will go away.
I know you're okay even though you don't sound okay.
At least you're not going through it alone.
You have Milan.
I know he can take care of you, if you need it.