I snuggled into the over sized hoodie, which I had coaxed Charlie into letting me keep. We had spent the whole afternoon talking about everything that was wrong with the world. It had all been an elaborate distraction from my real problem. Charlie had noticed the sad look on my face, as he was getting ready to leave.
“Listen ky, don’t sweat it. He’s a boob if he loses you.” I giggled and hugged him.
“Why couldn’t I fall for you?”
“You know you can’t handle all of this.” He gestured to himself.
“Yeah, that’s why” I said shutting the door on him.
“You know it!” he shouted from the other side.
A loud rapping sound pulled me from my thoughts. It was coming from the door. I put the chain on before opening it. I was startled to find Xavier leaning heavily to one side. He had a lopsided grin plastered on his face. The smell of alcohol permeated the air. I closed the door to remove the chain, and reopened it to find him in the exact same position. His face suddenly became animated
“Kyyyyyyyyyleeeeeee. You’re... very preddy... And I want to kissss you... but you want... you want to kissssh Chaarliee... it makesss Xavier sad.”
He slurred, frowning slightly, while slinging his arm lazily around me. I stumbled backwards from the force of his body. My face reddened at his accusation. But I pursed my lips and focused on getting him off my doorstep.
“Come inside Xavier. You can stay here.”
“I... I Shaw youuuu... youuuu and Chaarliee... laughs and... joking.”
“Charlie is my best friend.”
I was getting tired of repeating this.
“I wish... I wish I were youuuur besht friend... I bet youuuu kissssh all youuur friends... it’s okaaaay we arrrrre even... Millie wasssh nice to me... ”
He jeered.
“Can I teeeell you a sheeecret?”
He leaned forward dramatically. I rolled my eyes, nodding.
“Ooooookaaay.”
He was right next to my ear. I shivered as his breath touched my skin.
“Don’t tell Kyyyleeee... buttttt I kishhhhed her milllllliiiiiiieeeeeeeeee.”
I wanted to slap him. I wanted him to feel at least half of what I was going through. And what was I going through? Maybe I was dying. Maybe this is what it means to be truly maimed and torn, because as he told me the end, I heard him as if from a distant place. Like I lay on the floor, like tattered fabric, watching him. I realised he was still in the room. I couldn’t look at him anymore; he was staring at me blankly, wondering why I wasn’t brimming with mirth at his little story. I left the room in search of blankets. Maybe it was the alcohol. But drunken sayings are sober thoughts, right? So that means he wanted to kiss her.
I leaned against the wall for support. Catching my breath. Crying wasn’t going to make him love me, like I so craved. But what else could I do. I was still trying to wrap my head around it. I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to end this, it was something like I’d never felt before, being with Xavier. I couldn’t (didn’t want to), imagine not being with him. But did he feel the same way. I’d have to make him. I had fallen too deep, to throw it all away. It was only a kiss.
I returned to the lounge, with no blankets but a plan. I found an unconscious Xavier, snoring gently on the couch, his limbs splayed awkwardly around his torso. I slowly made my way to Xavier’s sleeping form. In his slumber, he seemed to retain an iridescent quality. I was powerfully and irrevocably in love with this boy. And he had no idea. My hand trembled as I edged closer to him, my palm outstretched, I needed to touch my angel. I traced the shape of his lips, every curve and contour, I committed to memory. His eyes fluttered open, dazed confusedly, the alcohol still pumping through his veins.
"ky?"
he mumbled drowsily, not sure, if I was real or a figment of his imagination. I blushed realising he woke up to find me touching his lips. Creepy much. I withdrew my hand quickly, blushing deeply.
"Yeah it's me; come on you can sleep in my bed."
He sat up slowly, looking around, probably wondering how he'd got there. He nodded slightly before trying to heave himself out of his position on the floor. He stood stiffly, swaying ominously. I jumped to my feet, wrapping my arm around his waist to support him. We walked silently upstairs, occasionally stumbling, finally reaching the upstairs landing, I grasped about for the switch, hearing a satisfying click when I found it. It bathed the corridor in a warm glow, illuminating Xavier’s pasty face, enhancing his drawn appearance. A lazy expression was draped across his features, as he continuously dozed off, waking with a start each time.
"Nearly there”,
I muttered quietly. All my energy was put into guiding the 160-pound mass into my room, and onto my bed, where he slept almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. I sighed, deeply glad the job was done. Next, I went in search of an old sleeping bag for me to sleep in, in case lizzie and dad arrived early the next day. It was the one dad and I had bought for a camping trip, out of three, it was the only one, which made it back.
I put it on my bedroom floor; I was in a state of calm that precedes deep sleep. As soon as I settled into the sleeping bag, I realised how uncomfortable it was, staring longingly at my bed. But I stayed put, remembering
it's all for Xavier.
And with this mantra churning in my mind, I fell asleep. Giving way to torturous dreams, all of them a different way of showing how Xavier would finally leave me, laughing away in the distance with a skinny blonde. Laughing at me. And all I could do was to die. The end of one dream would see the beginning of another.
I awoke, my body drenched in perspiration. I quickly jumped to my feet, suppressing my dreams. I rushed to the bathroom, snatching some clothes, eager to wash. It was only after the water hit me did I realize what had happened. It all came back to me. Xavier was in my bed. I scrubbed harder, as I remembered his confession. My skin felt raw before I realized what I was doing. My complexion had taken a violent red and blotchy texture. How I felt. The gentle precipitation from the showerhead felt like downpour on my burning senses. I switched to cool water, the coldness numbing me to the pain. My body was screaming out in protest, it seemed it hadn't liked lying in the sleeping bag. My muscles were stiff; I felt them sing as the water continued its steady assault, loosening them slightly. I finished by washing my face, reluctantly I stepped out of the shower, onto the cold tiles of my bathroom.
I felt clean. It made it easier to silence the voice in my head telling me to quit. I brushed my teeth vigorously, as if I had been the one kissing Millie. Before I knew it I was retching uncontrollably over the toilet, each violent heave racking my body, as pure heat cascaded down my throat, the acidic projectile seemed to singe my insides, which was recoiling furiously at the ejection. There was a dull pain in the back of my throat, from having opened it so widely, which I knew would be back later in the form of a sore throat. I wiped my lips with the back of my arm. Dragging myself from the toilet, I resumed my activity, brushing quicker this time; I couldn't trust myself. I pulled the clothes on unceremoniously, leaving my hair to dry naturally, deciding I had already wasted enough time in there; I flushed the toilet without looking, and exited, managing to feel dirtier than when I'd gone in.
I shook him and he turned in his sleep. I could smell the alcohol seeping from his gaping mouth as he snored gently. He mumbled something incoherent.
“Wake up Xavier”,
I cooed in his ear.
“Five more minutes mum...”
Was his sleepy reply.
I rolled my eyes, this called for drastic measures. I grabbed the covers and tore them off him, then sped to the curtains and pulled them open; he shrank from the light, as he shot up in the bed. When he finally came to, he turned towards me standing at the window, his eyes squinting and hands clasping his forehead.
"Rise and shine...”
I said sweetly, sugar pouring off my words, as I smiled innocently at him. I got a scowl in return, no doubt he had a killer hangover... Serves him right.
His mouth contorted as if to say something, but what poured out was congealed vomit. His whole body shook as he spewed over my bed. I grimaced as I watched the substance drip onto my rug, the sickly smell of bile and food filled the air and I rushed to open the windows, trying desperately to hold back my own digestions.
I walked back in the room laden with cleaning products and a tray of breakfast. A pungent stench greeted me, lingering in the air, but no Xavier. My heart dropped for a second, until I tuned into the sound of water coming from my bathroom. I breathed deeply, placing the tray on my bedside cabinet. I'd made some coffee, which I heard is good for hangovers, not really sure of the truth behind that but hey.. And eggs and bacon. Next to this I’d put a glass of water and 2 aspirin.
I pulled out a DIY mask, strapping it across my face; I then began stripping my bed and threw away the dirty sheets. I'd never be able to get rid of the smell, not a souvenir I wanted. Luckily, the mattress was free of any vomit, but my rug hadn't faired so well, a large glob of sick sat shapeless and smelly. I pulled on thick plastic gloves; I loved this rug, I was prepared to clean it. Liz and I had found it in a clearance sale, it had been the last one in the store, and the store had closed down now. I sighed and began my task.
I heard the bathroom door opening about ten minutes later, I didn't turn around, just kept on scrubbing, each stroke more violent than the last. I heard his footsteps get closer, but I refused to look up, I was nowhere near finishing. He cleared his throat expectantly. I replied with my stony silence. I heard him sigh and I saw his shadow lean closer. His hands found mine.
"I'm trying to clean here."
I yanked my hands back and continued to scrub; I tilted my head towards the tray on my bedside.
"Eat."
He tilted my chin upwards, and made to kiss me. And for the second time this week, I jerked from his lips. I couldn't kiss them knowing they'd touched someone else's. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't pretend it didn't bother me. I'd realized that as I was making him breakfast. How long could I go on hopelessly in love with someone who could so easily forget about me long enough to kiss my own cousin? And that hurt the most. She was family.
He seemed hurt by my gesture.
"What’s wrong?"
"Nothing’s wrong"
My voice was thick with tears I was biting back.
"Bullshit. There's something wrong. How are we supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend, if you can't even tell me why you’re almost crying? It’s like you don't even trust me."
I recoiled from his words, because it was true. I didn't trust him.
"We need- we need to talk."
I said wiping away a few trooper tears, which had fought past my defences. I gathered up the cleaning products and my rug. It was beyond salvation. Just like our relationship. I found him sat on the bed. I gulped. Making my way over to him, my legs shaking like jelly, I sat as far away from him as could be without finding myself on the floor.
"We need a break." I said simply.
His face dropped slightly.
"Why? We've been going out for two days, and I really like you-"
"Yeah? Well guess what? I LOVE you. And you kissed HER. Not me. You were with HER. You probably gave her a ride home as well, because fuck if I know where you were yesterday after school. I waited for you for an hour. Then you turn up here drunk and... And you...” I burst into tears, "is it because she's prettier than me or is she a better kisser... Or maybe because she's not fat?"
My voice broke, as with every sob, I found myself edging closer to hysteria.
He pulled me to him, and kissed me. I slapped him. He touched where my handprint was slowly forming.
"You can't keep doing that. I have just as much right to be angry. What about Charlie? I saw you two looking pretty cosy, didn't even notice me drive by, you were so loved up."
He scoffed. I pounced on him before he could even finish.
"Charlie. Is. My. Friend. When. Are. You. Going. To. Understand. That. You. Stupid. Idiot. “
I punctuated each word with a blow to his head. He finally straddled me and calmed me down, but not before, I put up a fight. I managed to give him a scratch on his cheek; I stared at it triumphantly as he spoke his next words.
"Fine if that's what you want, I'll give you a break... Just can't guarantee I'll be available when it's over."
With that, he heaved himself off me and walked out of the door. I picked up the phone and dialled a number I knew off by heart. I heard the dial tone and the click of the receiver being picked up. Before the person could even say anything, I blurted out,
"He’s left and... It’s my entire fault."
All I could say before I burst into fresh tears.