4. Chapter 4
4
W alking down the sidewalk, I’m on high alert. Anxiety is a bitch. Not only does it mess with your mind and make you feel like there's danger on every corner, it also wears your body down. Clenched muscles and rigid movements take a toll on you after a while. And after three blocks of walking while fighting a panic attack, I'm pretty spent.
“What’s wrong?” Blake stops in front of me, causing me to almost run into her.
“Nothing, I’m just worn out.” It’s the truth, even if I don’t tell her the exact reason.
Her brows crease. “Libby, we’ve known each other for over ten years. I can tell when you’re not telling me things.” Well shit . Of course she can. She knows me more than anyone. I don’t know why I thought I could get anything past her. But just because she knows there's something more going on, doesn't mean I have to tell her what it is. My anxiety is my demon. And I fight it alone.
“Sorry. Everything has been so messy lately, the last thing I want to do is bore you with my issues.”
“I take offense to that,” she gasps, hands clenching her chest, dramatic as always.
“It’s nothing against you, B. I’m just tired of always battling curveballs. It's like it's my damn personality at this point." From growing up in a toxic household, never knowing what environment I was walking into or if I was going to be kicked out by the end of the night, to my mother leaving me high and dry after my dad did the same, I'm just tired.
“For once I just want to be Libby, your roommate that you’re going on a walk with.”
After studying me for way too long, she gives in. “Fine. But I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.” We walk in silence for a long while until we turn the corner to her street and we hear a familiar voice.
“Elizabeth.” The sound of my name makes every hair on my body stand up, and I stop dead in my tracks at the same time as Blake.
“What the fuck do you want, Jett?” She asks while shooting daggers at him.
“This has nothing to do with you, Blake,” he insists.
“The hell it doesn’t! Do you think I didn’t hear the voicemails?” She’s yelling, but he keeps his voice low and calculated.
“Elizabeth left, and I got upset.” He shrugs, making it all seem so simple. As if it excuses the things he said on my phone. It doesn't, I know it doesn't, but right now my anxiety has me paralyzed. I can’t move, can’t speak. I just watch as the two of them go back and forth. Not even listening to what they’re saying anymore.
“Liza?”
My trance breaks, and I look at Jett. I don't know what he's asking though, so I don't give him an answer. Pivoting my eyes to Blake, I find her looking at me, too. “I don’t want you to talk to this dipshit alone. He doesn’t deserve to look at you, let alone speak to you.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. She overreacted.” Jett thrusts his hand toward me. The veins in his neck bulge almost as much as his eyes. He hates being challenged, which is exactly what Blake is doing. It's what she always does. Unlike me, she doesn't lay down and take anything.
“You’re kidding, right? You treat her like shit and she finally had enough. Leaving you yesterday was the best thing she's done.” Blake’s eyes are crazed. Her feisty side is fully unleashed.
“You’ve never even liked me. You’re just using this as an easy excuse to break us a part and I won't stand for it, Blake.”
“Aren't we already broken up?” My voice startles all three of us.
“What are you talking about, Liza?” Jett’s tone turns honey sweet, but his eyes stay pointed. It reminds me of my father when he would try to win my mom back over. It never took much. She loves attention — good, bad, or ugly.
“I left yesterday. And you left me nasty voicemails.”
“Love.” He takes a step towards me and I stay frozen in place. “We both did things we didn’t mean. I just want to talk it out. I want to fix this.” The voicemails are still replaying in my head, but I’ve spent the last five years with the man. We both deserve closure.
“You cannot seriously be considering this, Libby!” Blake takes a few steps until she is in front of me.
“I…” my eyes settle on the ground before continuing. “I’ll be okay, B. Just give me an hour to talk to him.”
She lets out an exaggerated laugh. “You owe him nothing! You were a mess last night just because he proposed to you. Clearly, this isn’t healthy.” I know it's not. But neither is running away all the time. If I'm ever going to beat my demons, I need to face them head on.
“Liza, is that true?” Jett cocks an eyebrow like it's hard to believe that I could have such emotion. And it makes sense. I've always suppressed them in front of him. There's no reason to stir the pot when I know how easily the pot boils over.
“You think I would make that up? Are you always so oblivious to her?” Blake is the only person I feel I can be myself around. She gets parts of me that nobody else has been privy to. And even then, I still keep certain things from her. Like my anxiety. And the way Jett acts when he gets mad. She's not an idiot, though. She knows things aren't great and that he has an anger problem. But she doesn't know that he likes to shove when his anger gets to a certain point. She'd kill me if she knew I was with a man that resembled my father in any way. But Jett isn't as bad as him. My dad would wail on my mom every day of the week. Black eyes, broken bones, you name it. I can take a shove to the shoulder.
“She’s been just fine during our entire relationship. If she doesn’t seem that way when she’s with you, it’s not my fault,” Jett says. That's another one of his favorite lines. He does nothing wrong, and you can't convince him otherwise.
“The hell it isn’t!” Blake is drawing attention. I need to get out of this situation as fast as possible. I've had enough of people watching my like a damn zoo animal the last two days.
“Blake, I’ll only be gone an hour.” She's pissed, but it doesn't negate what needs to happen. I look to Jett. “Will you give me a ride back to Blake’s when we are done?”
“Of course.”
“Then it’s settled.” I wrap my arms around my friend. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” She sighs, releasing the hug and glaring at Jett, before walking back towards her apartment.
“My car is just over here.” Jett motions towards a line of vehicles. I nod and follow him towards the sedan.
I sit my purse on the counter and turn around, crossing my arms over my chest. My heart hasn't stopped racing since the moment I left Blake. I just want to get this over with.
“Where have you been?” Jett’s voice is calm and even, but his eyes are accusatory. I need to be careful how I talk to him. The ice is obviously very thin.
“I stayed the night at Blake’s,” I almost whisper, feeling my confidence slip. That's the effect Jett has on me. He's smoothe, too smoothe, and manipulative. He makes you question everything until you think you're crazy, and have no choice but to trust him.
He shakes his head. “That's it? You ran off on me and just went to Blake’s? Nowhere else? Did you see anyone else while you dropped off the face of the earth?” He raises his voice, but he remains composed.
“Blake found me and wanted to help. It was an exhausting day, and I just needed some sleep.” My heartbeat begins to throb in my neck. A telltale sign that an attack is at bay. Come on, Libby. Keep it together.
I see the shift in his mood as soon as it happens.
“Oh, so Blake wants you to do something, and you do it willingly? What about me, Elizabeth? I wanted you to marry me, but that didn’t seem to matter much to you.” The veins in his forehead bulge. “You’re damn right it was a long day. You made sure of that. But where was my girlfriend at the end of my long day? Apparently with her little friend, because that’s what she wanted. Who fucking cares what I want, huh?”
He’s inches away from me at this point. And for the first time since knowing him, I'm uncomfortable in his presence. I've dealt with Jett pissed off more time than I can count. But this time in different. I can feel it in my bones. Bile rises in my throat and I try to swallow past it, but it doesn’t help.
“You do matter,” my voice cracks, showing my weakness. “You matter to me. I’m sorry I ran. I know it wasn’t right of me. If I could take it back, I would. You just caught me off guard. You know I don’t like surprises. But I’m sorry that I hurt you. That was never my intention.” Dropping my eyes to the floor, the guilt settles in my stomach. No matter how much I don't want to marry him, or anyone for that matter, I don't like hurting people.
“Well, fuck me for trying to surprise you by proposing ! That’s a normal fucking thing, Liza! People do that all the time and guess what? Real women handle it just fine,” he spits. I wince at his words and close my eyes, trying to ground myself.
“I know…” I choke out. There's no since in arguing. There never is with him. You just take it and wait for it to be over.
“ You know, ” he scoffs. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
Looking at Jett, I shrug. “I already explained myself. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“So that’s just it? You get to completely embarrass me in front of everyone I know, ignore me for over an entire day, then just give me some lame excuse for your behavior and I have to accept it? Well, the joke is on you now, Elizabeth. I refuse to be made to look like an idiot.”
“You’re breaking up with me?” Things need to end, but I figured there would be more of a discussion. That's what adults do. They talk things out and make peace with each other. This feels like a punishment. Like I'm a child again.
“What choice do I have? Do you know how pathetic it would look to take you back after you ran off on me?”
“I accepted your proposal, Jett. There’s no taking me back if we are still together.” Why do I sound like I’m pleading with him to stay together? I don't want my options taken from me. I want to have a fucking say in what happens in my life.
“No, Liza, we are not. We could have been. I could have given you a wonderful life. But you had to go ruin it for the both of us.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I refuse to anymore weakness. “I’m sorry. I wish you knew how sorry I am.”
He stares at me, and my heart jackhammers even harder in my chest. Fuck . I can’t afford to have a panic attack right now. I’ve never let him see me have one and I refuse for today to be the first time.
“Come to bed with me.”
“What?” He can't be fucking serious.
“You say you’re sorry… prove it,” he shrugs, face made of stone.
“You want me to make it up to you… by sleeping with you?” The thought alone makes me nauseous. Who propositions someone like that?
“Listen, I’m not begging you. This is a onetime offer. You can either prove to me that you mean what you say, or you can get the fuck out of my house.”
“You’re not going to let me get my things?”
Silence.
I don’t know whether to be sickened or saddened. It’s disgusting that he wants me to prove myself to him with my body. Sad that he can so easily throw me out if I don’t. And what kind of choice is that? Reducing my worth only by what I do in the bedroom, or kissing my comfort goodbye?
“I’d like to freshen up.” Sleeping with him is the last thing I want to do, but I can't say no right now or I’d be thrown out in seconds. I need time to get my thoughts in order.
His eyes soften a small degree, but there is still something in them that has the hairs on my arms standing on end. “You do that. I'll be right here.” A simple statement, but it feels more like a threat.
I turn hastily to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Looking in the mirror, I don’t recognize a single thing about myself. My auburn hair feels like a wig. My blue eyes are judging me. And my pale skin is suffocating. The disconnection between body and soul are nothing foreign to me. Although it's been a long time since I had to reign in this much panic. The kind that feels completely out of my hands. Like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I fight, it's going to pull me under in the end.
How had things gotten to this point? I went from being so sure of myself, so sure of what I wanted out of life, and never questioning myself, to having my almost fiancé asking for sex to prove that I’m sorry. Old me wouldn’t have let Jett think this was even an option. Hell, old me would have left him a long time ago. Somewhere along the way, I lost my spirit in need of comfort. Now, the thought of losing any amount of that comfort feels like being pushed off a cliff. Just like when I was a kid.
That isn’t reality, though. I am on flat ground, no cliff in sight. Maybe metaphorically, but metaphors never killed anybody. I close my eyes and place my palms on the cold countertop. In for four, out for four . I repeat it until the static in my veins goes away. When I can finally expand my lungs fully, my eyes open. Looking at myself once more, I stand and straighten my shoulders, take the ring off my finger, and place it on the counter.
This ends now.