i've awakened, why is it still friday?
The phone rang, breaking the peaceful silence that was my bedroom. I grumbled, turning over. At first, I thought it was an alarm, but then I realised that it was still dark. Very early morning, actually. When I realised that my heart stopped – only for a second – but ironically it was the third time today.
Well, today had been three days long so far, and I’d died twice. I felt my stomach twisting up, wanting to throw up on my bedroom floor. I didn’t bother answering the phone – I know that it was Vincent, anyway. Oh God, I thought. I was trapped in this… this paradox situation.
Forget Heaven and Hell, was I stuck here for the rest of eternity? Did I do something wrong? Something I was paying the price for now? Did I have to spend forever now reciting my last day to figure over what I’ve done wrong? What I did wrong? I hoped not. After all, forever was a long time.
Throwing back the covers, I put on the comfiest things I owned, including Vincent’s Hollister joggers that were too big for me. I grabbed my phone.
I looked in to see if my sister had gone out this time, but when I saw Kendal there, I figured that everything was the same first thing in the morning. Kendal was asleep. Vincent rang. It was Friday. What happened after I got out of bed was what I made of it.
My hands were shaking, but there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. I pushed myself to continue down the stairs to my kitchen. If I told my mother what was going on, or if I went shouting at the top of my lungs that I was reliving my last day over and over in an ER room than they would probably sanction me under the mental health act.
I reached into the cookie jar above the fridge, knowing that it was full of saving instead of cookies. I could justify it: I needed gas. My phone rang again but I quickly turned it on.
I left the house, figuring that someone was bound to wake up in a minute because of my phone. As quick as I could, I made my way out to the car, and got in, slamming the door. I tried to compose myself.
I wound down my window, trying to get some of the fresh, crisp air into the car. A dog barked down the street, it echoed all around the neighbourhood.
I started my car, pulling out of my driveway. I knew the way to this party’s address like the back of my hand. My eyes widened, suddenly realising that I hadn’t turned my lights on. That was just an accident waiting to happen. I flicked my lights on, turning away from my road.
It took ten minutes to get to this party. Then, I had to park my car on a nearby street instead of the street where the party was. I had to walk to the place.
The music boomed loudly onto the street, and I counted the cars parked hood-to-trunk in a row down both sides of the street. The poor neighbours must be crying their eyes out by now.
I managed to get to the front door without someone throwing up on me, as many people were being sick on the front lawn. Why weren’t the cops here? Someone must have called them by now.
If that was the case, I wanted to get out of here fast. I hadn’t really stuck around that much last night. I can’t really call it yesterday, as it was still today’s date. All I needed to do now was find Vincent and get out of here.
I paused in the doorway, looking for somewhere that Vincent might be. He wouldn’t be upstairs, there were only bedrooms up there. I would have gone for the obvious and looked in the kitchen, but I went into the living room instead. I looked everywhere, turning around so fast that I thought my head was spinning. I bumped into someone as I walked out of the room, but I didn’t stop to apologise or see who it was. Slightly hazed, I ran down the corridor and straight out of the doors from the kitchen, leading to the garden.
Once there, I stopped and looked around. People from all of my classes were walking around in bikini’s and boarder shorts. The music was even louder out around here, more so than inside. The bass shook the water on the tiled patio, which was there as a result of people bombing in the pool. I scanned the crowds of people. There were so many people here, it was amazing if anyone could actually swim in the pool.
A girl looked over. She recognised me immediately and waved. I waved back sheepishly at Veronica, a girl from my swim team. I would have asked her if she’d seen Vincent, but I didn’t speak to her much.
I felt a hand on the lower of my back. Really low. I turned around, grunting.
Matthew smiled at me, trying to look oblivious and innocent. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”
“I’ve only just arrived.”
Matthew rocked on the balls of my feet. “We’ve still got the rest of the night,” he winked suggestively.
“I’m only here to pick Vincent up.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said slowly.
“Yes,” I hissed. I moved so that he wasn’t touching me anymore. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Have you looked?”
“I am looking,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I took a few more steps away from him, towards the other end of the garden. I watched my step, looking out not to slip on water. From the corner of my eye, I saw Matthew follow me. I stopped still.
“Don’t follow me.” I ordered.
Matthew held up his hands. “Fine.”
I turned around again, taking bigger strides. I practically battled my way through a group of people standing, drinking together. One of the girls turned to look at me, disgusted, obviously not liking my attire. But who cares? Life isn’t about looks. The rest of the group were debating things, but I wasn’t listening.
I frowned. Great. All of a sudden, all that was in front of me was a few trees and a picket fence with rough bushes behind it. They weren’t territory of the house owners, though, as they were on the wrong side of the fence. So they were left there, untamed.
Just as I was about to turn around to go back into the house, something caught my eye. Someone with lush dark hair bent over, trying to aim at the ground as they vomited.
“Vincent?” I called, frowning as I leaned to the right slightly, trying to get a better view of him.
Vincent looked up, guiltily. His eyes sparkled, bloodshot and tired. His face was pale.
“Vincent,” I sighed when I realised it was actually him. “You’re being sick.”
Although I’d stated the obvious, he didn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he stepped forward, barely missing his own pile of sick. He was walking towards me, but then he stopped. His cheeks puffed up like a hamster who was storing his food. He threw up immediately.
I pursed my lips and closed my eyes, trying to be patient. I can’t believe that this time he’d gotten more drunk. For all I knew, because I hadn’t picked up the phone earlier, he’d gone off and drunk more as a result.
Vincent continued to throw up. I pressed my fingers to my temples. It was amazing, yet gave me a headache, thinking about how doing just a couple of things different could change the day, or a month, or a year, or the entire rest of your life. It kept turning around and around in my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was filled with regret about that day, because I had to face it now. Even though I’m in some kind of fantasy, I am actually dead. I had to be. Or in a coma. Or in a paradox universe. Who knew? All I knew was that I had opened a Pandora box of possibilities, and of death, and I just had to live with that. How ironic.
Vincent looked up again. “Are you here to pick me up?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “I am.”
Vincent nodded. “I need a glass of water,” he grumbled. “Where can I get a glass of water?”
“You can get a shot of something that looks like water.” A bemusing voice said from behind me. I didn’t turn, instead staying still.
Vincent grumbled that he might be sick again, walking right up to me. He wiped his face on his shirt. I wrinkled my nose. Classy.
Matthew was really testing my patience. I clenched my jaw, turning around. “I thought I told you to go away?”
“I thought you might need a hand,” he replied innocently. Yeah right, I snorted.
“Fine,” I grabbed Vincent’s arm. “Go get him a glass of water.” I instructed Matthew. “Water.”
“Water,” he repeated. “I’ve got it.”
“No! No!” Vincent cried. “I want to keep going.”
“Don’t be difficult.”
“I’m not,” he moaned defensively. Childishly. “You are. Isn’t she, Matthew?”
Matthew raised his eyebrows, again, licking his lips. Then he smirked. “She is,” he replied to be annoying. “I mean, she didn’t even dress up. She’s hiding those lovely legs. How annoying is that?”
Rage ran through me. I wanted to hit Matthew right in the jaw, but I was holding Vincent up. I expected Vincent to say something but instead he pulled me closer to Matthew as he walked to his best friend, laughing.
“Yeah, man.” Vincent replied, goofily. “Let’s just ditch her.”
My breath caught in my throat. “What?”
“There are plenty of chicks inside,” Matthew offered. His teeth gleamed in the moonlight. I narrowed my eyes at him, clenching my teeth together.
“Sure,” Vincent responded. My mouth, shockingly, formed a small O.
At this point, I didn’t know who to be angrier at: Matthew or Vincent. Matthew had encouraged it, whereas Vincent was just too drunk to actually understand what he was saying. Still, it wasn’t acceptable.
In a moment of fury, I pushed my hands out, grabbing Vincent. Then, in a single, irrational moment, I pushed him into the water.
I heard Matthew chuckle, and Vincent cry out. Someone else called his name, helping him. The music cut out immediately, and I shook my head. “Marisol!” Vincent called out, his voice slurred, splashing in the water.
But I ignored him, turning for the front door. And just like that, I left Vincent there and drove off back home.
After all, life was too short.