Chapter Eleven
It’s getting bad again. Out of nowhere.
This morning I watched my phone ring three times—twice from Andy and once from my mom. Finally, Andy gave up and texted me:
Are you still at the same address? Sending our invites soon.
I couldn’t answer her.
Now Sonya and Jamie are on the couch and I’m stuck in my room. I’ve been here all day. Their presence in the apartment is like a moat keeping me locked in a tower.
I press my forehead to the door and rest my hand on the doorknob, willing myself to open it, but I’m frozen. My muscles won’t budge. I slide down the wall and collapse into the pile of clothes on my floor. I need to eat, but if I go into the kitchen, Sonya and Jamie will want to talk, which of course isn’t a bad thing, but I don’t want to talk to them right now. I must’ve gotten in and out of bed and walked to the door four or five times by now trying to build the courage to open up. I feel powerless.
I was doing so well with Henry, talking to people, laughing, eating, smiling. How could I have found myself back here?
Nothing has to go wrong for me to feel this way. Everything can be fine, and I’ll still find myself here. WebMD calls it a chemical imbalance. I call it the guilt of killing your boyfriend. Either way, this is just a part of being Bennet.
I bring my hands to my face and feel along my cheekbones down to my chin. I run my hands along my bottom lip. I trace my neck down to my collarbones and rest my hands on my chest.
Feel what’s real. My cheeks are real. My chin is real. My lips are real. I am real.
It doesn’t work.
I crawl to my bed, unable to stand with the weight of grief on my back.
I sleep for two days. I don’t answer texts, I don’t check my email or sign up for shifts, I just sleep. If I sleep, I don’t have to feel. I hear Sonya come and go. She knocks gently on my door at one point, which makes me feel sick. I get out of bed and lock it.
When I sleep, I dream of Sam. Sweet Sam. Sand-blond hair, somber eyes. Always calm, always carefully analyzing the world around him. I walk toward him, to touch him, kiss him…but he gets farther and farther away. He smiles from across a black moat, then he’s gone. I press my eyes closed, hoping that when I open them he’ll be back. But when I do, I see someone different. Henry. He stops when he’s just close enough that I can make out the color of his eyes, green as lily pads. He stretches his hand out to me. I don’t move. He raises his eyebrows as if to say, It’s okay. Take it. Panic surges through my chest and I whip my head around looking for Sam, but he’s nowhere. My eyes sting as I turn back to Henry, but all I see is his back, walking away toward the never-ending horizon.
After three days, I defrost. The first precious drop of serotonin enters my bloodstream. The elephant gets off my chest. I’m lighter. I made it through.
I open my eyes to the dust in the air dancing in the golden light.
With weak fingers, I check my email for any potential Carlyle shifts that haven’t been snatched up yet. I sign up for four, and then I carefully tiptoe into the living room. I smell like sweat. My mouth is as dry as cotton balls. I stop in my tracks when I see her.
Jamie.
I anticipate what she’s going to say to me with dread. Probably something like, Look who decided to leave her room , or Thank god, we thought you died in there . But she looks up at me through her dark eyes and smiles.
“Want some coffee?”
As if nothing happened. I’m so grateful to her I could cry.
I nod, unable to use my voice.
“I made lavender syrup. Do you want some?” I nod again, blinking back a tear. The coffee is as delicious as it always is when Jamie makes it, bitter and floral, with a little touch of sweetness. She looks at me like she’s about to say something, but decides against it. I watch her walk toward Sonya’s room through the steam rising from my mug.
She stops, turning back toward me. “You know…” She gestures to my bedroom door, looking almost sheepish in her delivery. “That happens to me too.”
I feel my throat tighten. “What does?”
“The, um…” She takes a deep, calculated breath and clears her throat. “The depression stuff. Sonya doesn’t really get it all the time. But I do.”
My fingers shake as I sink my gaze into my mug. “I don’t understand it.”
“Me neither.”
“It’s horrible,” I say, wiping my eye with my knuckle and looking up at her again.
“The worst,” she says with a shrug.
The tiniest twitch of Jamie’s mouth, the mere hint of a smile, sends us both bursting out in laughter. I lean on the countertop to keep my balance as I laugh. My abs hurt from crying and now from giggling. A bit of coffee from my mug splashes onto the floor.
I shake my head, trying to get myself under control. “The fucking worst .”
“It shouldn’t be funny,” she gets out, covering her mouth.
“It’s really not,” I say, choking back the last of my snickers.
Jamie’s laughter subsides into a gentle stillness, a knowing smile. “Sonya and some of my friends and I are going to see a movie tonight. Want to come?”
“Oh…um…” I start making up excuses in my mind, ways to get out of the invitation. Maybe I have an early shift tomorrow. Maybe my stomach hurts.
“It’ll be chill, I promise,” Jamie offers, pushing a bit.
I think to myself, no, no, I don’t feel prepared to face the world and meet new people, but to my shock, I find my head nodding yes.
She smiles, as surprised as I am that I agreed. “I’ll text you the details.” And then she disappears behind the door.
I’ve always liked movie theaters. I like the smell of the popcorn, the sticky floor, the snacks…but most of all, I love sitting in a big room with a bunch of strangers and not feeling pressured to say a word.
I had to haul myself all the way to Prospect Park, since there is only one artsy little theater in New York playing the exact movie Sonya and Jamie wanted to see. They’re at the ticket booth with a short guy and a tall blond girl when I walk into the theater.
“Yay!” Sonya sings. She grabs my hands and squeezes, jumping up and down. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too,” I say, giving my best attempt at a smile.
She pulls me slightly away from the group to whisper in my ear. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me,” she says, frowning. “Ever since…you know. The Date.”
“I’ve just been busy,” I grumble, even though that’s a total lie.
“We need to catch up,” she says. “Plus I have semi-sort-of good news. Harper & Jane might sell my earrings!”
“Oh,” I say. “Ones you picked out?”
She frowns and drops my hands like hot potatoes. “Ones I designed.”
“Right.” I cringe at myself. Designing jewelry is Sonya’s new passion. She’s always been an artist, but her medium constantly changes and sometimes it’s hard for me to keep up. “That’s great!”
“Thanks,” she says, picking at the pendant on her necklace. “I’ve only been begging my bosses to sell something of mine all year and talking your ear off about it.”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry, Sonya. I forgot.” Last year it was ceramics. The year before that it was acrylic. Can I really be that bad of a friend for forgetting which one she’s doing now?
To her credit, she shakes it off. “They’re going to tell me if they’ll sell them by next week. If they do, I want to throw a party. If you don’t come, I’ll absolutely kill you.”
“Of course I’ll come,” I say. “Send me the details.”
Jamie sidles up to us and puts her hand on Sonya’s shoulder, ending this awkward moment. “She already has a Google calendar event.”
My phone buzzes as I get the invite. “I’m manifesting,” Sonya says, clicking her phone shut. “You’re supposed to act like you already have the thing you want in order to get it.”
“Makes sense,” I say. “I’ll be there.”
“Bennet, this is Kevin and Sarah.” Jamie gestures to the two people standing with us. “Some old work friends of mine.” Now that I’m closer, I can tell one of them is definitely not a stranger. Sarah. Sarah the bartender from L’italiano who served me glasses of Chianti until I puked in the bathroom. It’s not like I needed more evidence that my life is an absolute joke, but the universe keeps sending it to me nonetheless.
“We’ve met,” Sarah says, chomping on a Raisinet. Yes, the last time I saw Sarah I barreled into her and made her spill an entire glass of red wine onto an unsuspecting gentleman.
“Sorry about that…” I say, barely able to hear my own words. “I wasn’t in the right state of mind.”
“You guys should’ve seen it. It was hilarious. I got her way too drunk, and she—”
“I puked in the bathroom,” I blurt, trying to control the narrative. “And then I…I spilled wine everywhere. It was a mess.”
“She was supposed to go on a date with our friend Henry but the poor guy found her in the bathroom instead. We teased him about it for like, the next week,” Sarah chirps. My heart squeezes.
“Oh, you’re that girl,” Kevin says. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Great. Apparently everyone at that restaurant has heard of me.
My chest gets hot and my neck starts to itch. “It was supposed to be a date, but we’re not…It’s not like that. We’re friends.”
“This was the night of your date? Since when are you friends with him?” Sonya asks, cocking her head.
“I should call him, tell him to come,” Sarah says, pulling her phone out of a yellow cross-body purse.
“No!” My voice is louder than I anticipated. “No, don’t bother him.” This weird friendship with Henry is not for anyone else to witness. Not yet, anyway. “I didn’t expect to be friends with him, Sonya,” I say. “It was…an accident. I didn’t plan it.”
She twists her mouth, glancing at Jamie before looking back at me. “I think that’s great, B. But we definitely need to catch up, okay? Soon. I miss you.”
“Okay,” I say, relieved. “We will.” I turn toward Jamie, Sarah, and Kevin. “Jamie, you said these guys were friends from work? I didn’t know you worked at L’italiano.”
She clears her throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Oh yeah. Before I started at the Angry Bean. I couldn’t handle the late-night hours, so I switched from red wine to coffee.”
“So…you know Henry?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Not really. Met him a couple times, but that’s it.”
Sonya leans against Jamie’s shoulder. “That’s probably why he came up on your dating profile. Mutual friends.”
Jamie shoots Sonya a stern look. Sonya sucks on her straw and shrugs. “What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?” I ask. Surely that would’ve been valuable information for me to have before going on a date with him. “Sonya, did you know Jamie knew Henry?”
Jamie nibbles on her lip and glances at Sonya, who seems to be communicating silently with her eyes.
“I didn’t tell her I was setting you up until after,” Sonya says. “Figured you’d want to keep it private. Then when I showed Jamie his picture she told me she knew him. I didn’t think you were going to see him again, so why bother bringing it up, you know?”
That’s…actually pretty considerate. “Oh,” I say. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Sonya says. I can’t shake the feeling that she looks relieved.
“Henry can’t come, anyway. He’ll be working tonight since we’re both here,” Kevin says to Sarah. Poor Kevin, I’d completely forgotten he was standing there.
Jamie pulls five ticket stubs from her pocket, holding them up for us to see. “Should we go in?”
I exhale, praying we’ve moved on from this topic for the rest of the night.
We follow each other single file into the theater and take our seats for the showing of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind . Unfortunately, I get separated from Sonya and Jamie and end up next to Sarah, who takes the opportunity to chat over the previews.
“Henry’s a good guy,” she says, in a comedically loud whisper.
I turn my phone on silent and hum in semi-agreement.
“He’d be a good boyfriend,” she says, shoving a huge handful of popcorn into her mouth.
I shudder. “No, no, no. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
She shrugs. “Someone’ll definitely snatch him up soon.”
“He can do whatever he wants. We barely know each other.”
She sizes me up, squinting. Then she takes a dramatic sip of Diet Coke.
I can’t get a read on Sarah. I can’t tell if she blabbed to everyone about my bathroom incident out of malice or just because she thought it was funny. I can’t tell if she’s grilling me about Henry because she’s protective or because she’s jealous .
How could she be jealous? There’s nothing going on.
I don’t like talking about Henry like this. Or at all, really. Making it into something it’s not. It’s like speaking his name too many times will ruin it. Gossiping about him will trivialize our new friendship, diminish it, like when you touch a shiny surface so many times it loses its polish. It’s barely anything, anyway.
“I think the movie is about to start,” I say, burrowing deeper in my seat.
“Fine,” Sarah huffs and returns her attention to the screen.
We watch Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet fall in love and then forget each other. I close my eyes and imagine what a relief it would be to forget, to go back in time and stop myself from meeting Sam, to stop myself from falling for him, to stop myself from fighting with him, to stop him from driving to see me in the middle of the night. To just stop. Stop everything.
To my right, Sonya and Jamie hold hands. Kevin tries to be sneaky with a vape pen. Sarah texts, the blue light from her screen illuminating her face. I suck on a Sour Patch Kid and the acidic flavor stings the back of my jaw.