“Fate, I think, is a thief.” - Lauren DeStefano, Wither
Things around were changing; the weather was slowly growing warmer as spring morphed to summer, the excitement of break in the air and newfound freedom. People were changing, or the way I always saw them.
Bria and I had barely spoken in the near week she had been gone. I took a break for a moment from my vicious writing to call her up through video chat, feeling the need to catch up. After a minute of calling and not receiving an answer, her dark face appeared on the screen. She looked irritated, so I checked the time. With the difference, it was only seven o'clock in the morning in Los Angeles, which meant she would be up and doing her daily routine before work. Yet, she looked disgruntled and angry, taking a gulp of her black coffee from her desk.
“Hey, B!” I exclaimed cheerily, using the little pet-name I had for her. She showed no reaction, still.
“Hi, Addy.” Bria added, sounding even less enthusiastic than she looked.
I pondered “Is it too early, I mean- did you not sleep very well?”
“No.”
Bria was being to cut-throat and to the point. I knew she only gets like that when something really bad happened. And the only time she doesn't tell me when something really really bad happens, is when she doesn't even want to admit it happened to herself. Just saying things out loud makes them real, because we are always taught the fact that our thoughts aren't concrete; but words? They're forever. I just hoped she would let me in instead of shut me out like I did to her.
“Bria, what happened?” I said, skipping over the formality of asking if she was 'okay', because I knew better.
She stared at the ground, and despite the catchy song lyric, she wasn't smiling. Bria sniffled and her eyes seem to roam from one thing to another, never settling upon anything that would trigger coherent thought.
“As it turns out, 'lucky number seven' is total bullshit.” she said with air quotes, letting her arms fall to her sides lifelessly.
That explained everything. I should have seen it right away; her addiction to caffeine, not sleeping well, irritability, and loss of hope all indicated a recent break up. It happened before and she got through it fine, but then I hadn't been on the other side of the country. Mark, Matt, Matthew- whatever his name was- had just broken my best friend's heart, and I could do next to nothing to help. Consoling is a hard thing to do through a computer screen.
“B, I'm so sorry.” I comforted, pouting in that special way that shows how bad I feel for her. I hated seeing that face, the one that supposed to say “I feel your pain!” because all I see in it is “I'm so glad I'm not you.”. Unluckily, Bria feels the same way.
“I don't need your sympathy. I need an unlimited supply of chocolate and Leonardo DiCaprio movies.” she wined, putting her face in her hands and rubbing her temples.
I looked at my best friend and savior. Her hair was uncombed and unruly, sticking at odd places and in tangles so big I could see them. Her bright face was in a shadow of hurt, and her eyes always seemed ready to spill out a tear. Those bright eyes faded and clouded, so mesmerizingly beautiful still, you couldn't take your eyes away. There's beauty in pain and grace in hurt. I saw the look on her face and knew I'd seen it before, but back then, it was in the mirror. This wasn't just a break-up or a fight, this was a severing of an attachment with a blunt ax. And now Bria was bleeding.
“Bria, I don't know what to say.” I croaked, my voice shaking in empathy for her. “I wish I could help.”
She snapped then, not like a twig, but a crocodile after it's prey. “That's the thing, Addy. All you ever do is wish and hope! Wishing on a shooting star isn't going to make things better, okay? Things suck ass right now so stop wishing you could help me and go back to focusing on yourself like you always do.”
What does a person do when their heart is ripped from their chest? That was the third time within the last month and I still didn't know. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to think? I needed her, but she didn't want me. And that hurts like living in a ball pit replaced with millions of tiny Legos, which also happen to be on fire.
So, what did I do? I stared back at her like an idiot with my mouth snapped shut. I didn't even tremble. I showed less emotion than a rock. I should have known that out of all the things I could have done, that was the worst.
She sneered at me like she understood. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Have fun with Elliot, you've finally become what he wants. Goodbye, Adelaide Maddox, have a nice life.” And then, there was black.
That couldn't have been it, that's not how years of friendship ends. A two minute Skype session is not how it's supposed to end! We were never supposed to end, we were infinite. Out of everything in life that changes, we weren't supposed to.
The black computer screen showed my own reflection. Every word Bria had said repeated in an echo in my mind. I looked at my face and took in the details. My blue eyes squinted to get a better look, my pale face was clean and sad. My hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of my head. She'd been crazy when she said that, angry and bitter. I was still Addy. I know I am.
Then I became a ticking time bomb, the fuse slowly burning down as I stared at the disconnected screen. In one swift move I was leaping from my seat, grabbing the nearest object, and chucking it at the wall. I screamed out in frustration as the ceramic bowl shattered against it, scratching paint off and damaging the floor, too. That didn't make me feel better. I raged and screamed again, kicking the sofa and throwing the stuffed pillows around, knocking assorted knick-knacks off of counter tops and shelves. I threw the handmade mug Bria had made me as a last resort Christmas present touchdown-dance-style on the floor. The carpet prevented it from breaking, but the third time was the charm.
Above me and on both sides there were screams of 'Keep it down!' and 'I'll call the cops!', even 'Are we being broken into?' I screamed back at every retort, “Shut up! Don't worry about it!” and some other things I don't recall. I nearly grabbed Lappie to throw and destroy, instead going for a yearbook, some magazines, and dictionaries. Pitching them all around, at walls, at the door, everywhere. Noises that were inhuman radiated from the base of my throat. And somewhere between my irruption of rage and anger, my eyes betrayed me. My feelings betrayed me.
I was sobbing, tears spilling on my shirt. So I threw more things, but my strength also failed me. My arms fell limp and my knees quaked. I sleeked down the wall and curled with my back to it, arms wrapped tight around my knees. My face was hot and puffy, burning tears spilling down one after another. A sob rumbledthrough me and my head pounded like it had grown a second heart, and everything felt heavier. My body convulsed and racked; I tried to wipe the tears off with my shirt and sleeve.
The longer I stayed there, the more I calmed. The tears dried, my stuffy noise faded away, but the headache didn't. I sat for a moment, not really feeling anything. Around me I saw all the things I would have to do; clean the mess, fix things I'd smashed, fill in the varnish on the floor, pick up shards of ceramic trash and more. I saw it all and knew the time it would take, but it was still worth it. I saw a long day ahead of me, and then I got up off the floor, avoided any shards, and stormed out. Slamming the door behind me, I couldn't have given a shit.
I was out the door and walking. The events had turned so quickly on me, I figured why not just turn them back around, fight back with the universe. Fate could take a few punches.
The door to Le Petit was nearly ripped from it's hinges, the bells ringing out in harsh staccato beats. Heads turned quickly to me, even the complacent customers who choose to ignore most everyone. Sophie was in the middle of drying out a coffee mug, her hands frozen. Henry glanced back at me with indifference, returning to hand-grinding the beans, clearly apathetic to my presence.
“Resume your business.” I muttered, glaring right at a girl with her nose too particularly high in the air. She 'humphed' and went back to whatever it was she had been doing, others did the same.
Sophie was still frozen, one eyebrow higher than the other in a look of confusion and concentration. I turned to look at her, not much feeling like talking. She would try to convince me out of this, make me feel things I shouldn't.
“Hi, Sophie.” I said, feeling like it might make her feel better to know I hadn't lost my sense of pleasantries. I avoided her eyes, green and big, so hard to lie to.
I moved away from her and farther down the counter, bushing my hands along the sleek granite until Henry stood with his back directly across from me. I sulked for a moment and wondered why he was treating me like chopped liver. Where was the bright smile and the greeting of 'Hey, Addy.'? What had I done to screw our friendship up?
“Hi, Henry.” I said, letting my anger flow through me and smile, the corners of my mouth twitched with effort.
He wouldn't turn around, continuing to hand-grind coffee beans with the stone. The stench of coffee was almost overwhelming, yet he acted like nothing was different. Henry never responded, a chill went through me. Was I getting the cold shoulder? I walked farther down to the opening around the corner, flipping the counter top up in a setup like in an old 80's diner and stepped up to him.
That got his attention.
“Hey!” he accused, letting the grinding stone down with a clatter, “Customer's aren't supposed to be behind here.”
Any other time I would've laughed at his joking, but he wasn't kidding around. Henry was actually upset with me, and it took me off guard.
“The customer is always right.” I replied cheekily, hoping to ignite the old Henry. It didn't work.
“The customer is getting annoying. Get back on the other side, Addy.” He ordered, not giving me another chance to speak before returning to his mundane work. The beans were like fine powder, I saw. He just didn't want to talk to me. That hurt like hell, and I got angry again, stomping back around the counter and leaning across to get as close to him as I could.
“I need a favor.” I pouted.
“Ask someone else.”
“What's with the attitude?” I yelled.
He turned on a dime, showing more emotion than he had so far, it just so happened to be anger. “What's with you?”
I said nothing, staring at him, just daring for Henry to explain.
“Look,” he started, turning to drop the stone again and face me, “Let's just say I don't exactly approve of what you've been up to lately. In fact, I find it really un-lady-like and vindictive.” He sneered, talking with the his hands in a wild and sarcastic manor the longer he talked.
“You've been talking to Sophie.” I stated, not meaning for it to come out questionable.
“Yes, and I've spoken to her about it, too. What you're doing needs to stop. This isn't some episode of Gossip Girl, or whatever.” Henry ranted on from there, but I lost interest quickly and instead examined my nails, not really caring for what he had to say.
“Will you help me or not?” I snapped, cutting off whatever nonsense he'd been preaching on and on about.
“Depends, what do you need?”
I smiled sweetly, flipped my hair a bit, and then responded “I need a date for tomorrow.”
Don't let him fool you, Henry may not be book smart, but he's street smart. And to him, my little 'act' wasn't convincing at all. I didn't want to date him, I wanted a date. And the difference is huge. It's being invited vs. being used, and Henry knew exactly where he stood. And to think I was scared he would take me too seriously and I be stuck in a unrealistic love triangle, making myself the next Bella Swan.
“Not interested.” he growled. Just the way he looked at me made me feel offended.
“Why not?” I persisted, following as he walked along and busied himself with work that obviously wasn't required.
“I'm not going to be 'that guy', Addy.”
“What guy?”
He stopped, turn to me and looked coldly into my eyes as he stated “The one everyone feels sorry for.”
I pouted and he turned away again. I looked to Sophie, exclaiming “Soph, help me with this!'
Sophie had been drying the same cup she had since I came in and I knew she'd been listening in. Then again, who wasn't? To any observer, we were better than cable. She dropped everything and rushed over, excited to finally say what she thought. Sophie would understand, I thought. She was a girl, she knows how much I needed him.
She stood by Henry's side and talked directly to me; my stomach dropped.
“I agree with Henry. Why don't you let fate take its course?”
I almost laughed bitterly. Fate? Fate! It had done nothing but screw me over dozens of times, leave me broken and bleeding, then come back with new promises that everything will be better. So many empty promises and nights spent alone because 'fate' didn't agree with me. Lauren DeStefano never said it better than when she wrote “Fate, I think, is a thief.” All it does is take the things we love the most away and crush our dreams.
Convincing Henry to help me was all about getting in his head, finding one thing he wants and promising he'll get it, or have it be taken away. I knew it wasn't money, though I actually had some of that to spare. I had to evaluate all that I knew about him. He moves a lot, he doesn't really have a passion or a goal, he is a people person. What's the most valuable thing for him? Friendship. Friendship had to be put on the line.
“Do it for me, Henry. I need you.” I begged slowly, emphasizing the size of my clear blue eyes, “Just this one little thing, for us?”
The look Sophie gave me from behind Henry's back was something I hadn't wanted, she was disappointed, shocked that I was stooping so low as to have Henry pretend to be my date, and disgusted. She turned and threw the towel she'd been wringing out nervously on the counter and stalked away. That was two friends I'd lost in one day, I counted mentally, trying not to let any real tears slip as my eyes watered. I didn't care about them because they obviously didn't care about me.
It was the tears that put Henry over the edge. But, I knew it was the hidden affection he had for me that pushed him to it. He could try to hide it forever, but Sophie's little winks and eyebrow raises hadn't gone unnoticed, just ignored. It went all the way back to when I'd flirted with him those few days ago, and it had grown and grown. If I knew back then how beneficial that moment had been, I wouldn't have felt guilty whatsoever.
“Fine,” he huffed, giving into me, but not happy about it.
I celebrated briefly, clapping my hands together quietly. “Great! Wear something nice, but still casual. I'll meet you here at around six tomorrow.”
He nodded, clearly unenthusiastic about his decision. I knew he wouldn't go back on it, I had Henry. Hook. Line. And sinker.
After I left Le Petit, I didn't want to go back to my apartment and the mess I'd made. The stinging feelings that Bria had left still lingered and I could barely stand to be there. I took a notebook and a pen with me, paid for a subway trip, and just rode on it for hours. I sat with my legs curled onto the seat with me on a tram that wasn't very busy, and watched the people come and go. I scribbled a few things about their behavior, but mostly, I studied them.
I watched the people who recognized each other, made assumptions about where a person worked, how late they were, even what music teenagers listened to under those large headphones. I saw everything and engrossed myself in other people's lives. Human behavior is a funny thing. Psychology has always been a keen interest of mine. Maybe because we're the most peculiar species, acting on feelings, not instinct. Or maybe it's because we do things we know are bad for us, and find some way to justify the means.
We invest drugs that perfect our imperfections, yet they have yet to sell medicine promising a kind personality, or an honest heart. I watched them to finally see things from a different view, watch mistakes being made, see the worry in a face, and the pain of a distressed child. I watched to see what I couldn't see in myself. I wanted to get away from my own problems and focus on someone else's. Too bad it didn't work.
There was still the shattered porcelain and glass, complaining neighbors, deadlines, and the next day to deal with. I would've rode that subway forever if I could. And that should have definitely worried me more than the dress I was going to wear.
_____________________________________________________________________________
It's kinda late, I shouldn't be doing this but I am! Woo update! Thoughts about Addy? Is it confusing? Good? Bad? Tell me :) Predict the next chapter if you want!
I Just Wanna Run- The Downtown Fiction (good song, you should listen)
One of my favorite quotes ever for this chapter!
Thanks for reading! Please continue the votes and comments!
<3 thatcrazybookworm