21. You Used to Be Fun. What Happened?
Chapter 21
You Used to Be Fun. What Happened?
T he next day, I wake up alone, unsure of what to do. What Sam said… there couldn’t have been truth to it. My gut tells me his stress and exhaustion fueled his argument because I can’t comprehend how an innocent vent session turned into potentially dropping my best friend.
After work, I spend the rest of the day in bed working on my website, waiting until evening to call Hailey. I needed that time to think, but when evening comes, nothing is any clearer.
It doesn’t matter anyway, because my phone rings before I can figure it out.
“Hey, I’m so sorry for last night,” she says when I pick up. “Was he a total ass when you got home?”
“He was upset and needed reassurance, understandably. But I don’t blame you, either. I shouldn’t have complained about him the way I did.”
“Did he tell you that? Cori, that’s manipulation.”
There’s that word again.
“You have every right to bitch about him as much as you want, he can’t tell you not to. A decent boyfriend would hear those complaints and change how he treats you. Although, decent boyfriends wouldn’t treat you that way in the first place, and men like him don’t change.”
“Hailey,” I groan, rubbing my temple. “Can we please not do this? Please?” My voice shakes with desperation and the need for her to understand.
“Fine. But you need to think about what I said. About why you allow him, and your parents for that matter, to treat you like they do.”
“Because they’re right!” I say too loudly, the admission bursting out. “I’m a failure. A waste of space.” My eyes spill over now, and I furiously swipe at my face, the wetness against my burning cheeks overstimulating me.
The line is quiet for a moment until, patiently, Hailey says, “Cori. You are not a waste of space. Are you kidding me? You only think that because of how they treat you. I guarantee if you got away from Sam and told your parents off, you’d start to feel so much better about yourself. You know how moldy fruit causes other fruit around it to mold as well? Hey, why don’t you see a psychiatrist? Isn’t Tyler’s mom one?” While I know she’s trying to comfort me, trying to make me feel better, she’s telling me that my feelings are irrational, just like everyone else. And I know they are, to an extent. Instead of throwing myself a pity party, I should just get up and change my life, right? The problem with that is, I’m slowly losing the will, the hope, the care. “You’re depressed, Cori. You need help.”
“I’m not depressed, Hailey. I feel exactly as happy as I’ve been my entire life.” As for therapy, not a chance. Opening up, and allowing myself to be vulnerable to a stranger, who doesn’t actually care, but only sees me as a case number, a problem to be solved? No, thank you. It’s not like I could afford it anyway.
“My point. You’re with Sam because that’s what you think love is. Because that’s what you’ve been shown by your parents. You’ve been in survival mode your whole life, with little energy or motivation to do anything else. Probably the only reason you have the energy to read or work is because people like me and your Grandma have to undo some of what they do to you.”
I open my mouth to protest, to tell her she’s wrong, but haven’t I said that before? That Grandma was my anchor?
“And where would I go? I live with him now. I’ve changed my address, I have no money for a down payment and first and last months' rent, or new furniture. I’m staying here, Hailey. You need to accept that.” I recognize the absurdity of staying with someone simply because I’d already changed my address, but there are more reasons to stay than there are to leave. I do love him and we have so much history together. Surely that counts for something.
She exhales a heavy breath. “You know what? Fine. Go live your unhappy life with him, then.”
“Hailey-”
“No, just stop. I can’t sit back and watch you hate yourself while you continue to let him treat you like shit. I’ve got my own problems to deal with. I’m done.”
The line goes silent.
I pull the phone away from my ear, my mouth opening in shock when I see the home screen.
She hung up on me.
“I’m done.” What did she mean by that? Did she simply mean the conversation and we’ll reconvene once we’ve calmed down? Or our friendship?
It’s easy to like someone who knows exactly who they are and what they want out of life. Easy to love those who have already reached the finish line on their self-discovery or healing or whatever type of journey they’re on. There aren’t any low points because they have all the answers already.
There’s a poem here, but I have no energy to write it down. Or finish it, for that matter. The words, a cruel whisper strong enough to bring me to my knees, but just another thing left unfinished.
No one likes the insecure,
The gray clothes, the unsure.
No one has the patience
For my self-unacceptance.
I’ve always known this, but the rejection still hurts.
* * *
I arrive back home late after dinner with Mom and Uncle Jonah. The apartment is completely dark except for the moonlight that shines through the large windows, illuminating Cori, who had fallen asleep in one of the leather armchairs. She looks troubled, even in sleep, her forehead pinched and fingers twitching. The blanket on her lap slowly slides to the floor, same with the book from her limp hand draped over the arm of the chair.
I take the book and close it, placing the bookmark where her thumb had separated the pages before laying it gently on the coffee table. I know Cori’s love for her books—she does not take kindly to rough handling. Then, I pick up the edges of the blanket and place it properly over her shoulders so that she’s completely covered, save for her face. But she wakes, probably from the sudden warmth encasing her arms. She blinks a few times as if she can’t place my face, or is simply confused seeing me upon waking.
“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just covering you up so you wouldn’t be cold.”
She looks down at the blanket, eyes still bleary and watery from sleep. Sitting up, she rubs them and yawns.
“Thank you. I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was reading and I guess I dozed off.”
I sit down on the couch. “Reading puts me to sleep too.”
She narrows her eyes. “Ha. Ha. Where were you all day?”
“Uncle Jonah’s, then Mom’s for dinner. I uhh, may have an update. You know, for the whole accountability buddy thing. Nothing concrete, just an idea I’m exploring.”
She smiles and sits up straight, ready to listen.
“You know how I’ve helped my uncle work on his planes all my life. Well, today he suggested I look into aviation mechanics, and I honestly don’t know why I’d never considered it before.”
She nods.
“So, he looked up the website for a school in Houston where I could get my Airframe and Powerplant license to work on aircraft. I filled out the form for information, so I’ll see if they call, but… I’m kind of excited.” A grin spreads over my face as Cori reaches out to squeeze my hands, her softness a welcome contrast to my rough calluses.
“That’s exciting.”
“I may not even want to go through with it, I still have to see what all it requires.” I shrug. “But I don’t know. I just feel…” I don’t have the words. Lighter? No… energized maybe?
“You have a goal in mind. Something to use your energy towards. A target for your arrow, if you will.” I marvel at the sound of her small laugh.
“Yes, exactly.” I laugh myself, and can’t help admiring the crinkle of her nose when she smiles a full smile, or the clearness of her eyes as they twinkle with delight. How does Sam not spend every waking minute trying to bring this out of her?
I clear my throat, shifting in my seat. “Uh, so how was your day?”
Her face sobers instantly, remembering something that isn’t near as happy as this moment. “Oh. It sucked, actually.”
“ Sucked , as in we need dessert while we talk about it? I think there’s still some ice cream in the freezer.”
I hook my thumb over my shoulder, but sorrow seizes her expression, her eyes becoming glossy as they fill with tears.
“Oh, shit. What happened?”
I want to take her in my arms, hold her as she cries and talks me through the argument between Sam and Hailey, then her and Sam, then her and Hailey.
But it isn’t my place. I can’t be the shoulder she weeps into or the comfort that envelops her. I really shouldn’t be the person she confides in either, but she needs someone.
Her boyfriend only ever shows her doubt and disrespect. And now her best friend is leaving her alone in a shitty relationship she doesn’t deserve. I’ve overlooked too many of the comments Sam has made towards her. Comments like, “You should probably change into something more attractive.” Or, “Lighten up. You used to be fun. What happened?” I know I haven’t heard the worst of his remarks, but I’ve just stood back and remained quiet and, while I’m ashamed of that, I’m also torn. She’s her own woman, a grown woman who could and should fight for herself. If she’s never taught her worth, she’ll never know what she deserves.
“Cori, I know we’re finally on neutral ground, but you know where I stand.”
She lifts her face from her hands, and her eyes, glistening with unshed tears from the pain that consumes her, bounce between mine. Once again, I fight to stay in my seat, refraining from scooping her into my arms.
“So, you agree with Hailey, then?”
“Well… yeah.” Nervous that our friendly camaraderie may have just shattered with those words, I wait for the backlash.
“So, you agree with my parents and Sam?”
“What? No, how did you come to that conclusion?”
She rises, throwing the blanket into the chair and angrily swiping at the tears sliding down her red cheeks. “Because everyone has an opinion about my life and my choices, and I can’t even hear my own voice inside my head anymore. I’m so busy trying to please everyone else, and I don’t have a damn clue as to what I want.” With that, she storms off to Sam’s room, leaving me torn in too many directions to count.
On one hand, she stood up to me. She let me know she was angry and why. But why can’t she do that with Sam? Why is it me that she pushes away when I only want her to be happy?
And how do I help her if helping only pushes her away?