Chapter 56
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
ariana
“You haven’t left this bed in weeks. Get up.”
I grumble, staring at the television, rewatching all the saddest movies I’ve ever seen just to feel something.
Something other than the desire for a happy ending.
I want horrible, heartbreaking endings, where things don’t always work out and the world still turns.
I want to suffer until it hurts less. I want to wallow in it until I can’t anymore.
My brother is right. I’ve only left my room to grab water or a snack, and I’m being generous when I say that.
I have had no appetite. Carter has tried his hardest to lure me out of bed with my favourite foods, delivering it to my bedside when I refuse to go to the kitchen to appease him.
Sometimes, I’ll take a few bites just to make him feel better.
Most of the time, it sits there until he comes to collect it.
Arden slid under the covers with me one night and wrapped her arms around me. I cried myself to sleep, treasuring the way she didn’t ask me a single question, she just held me until I slept. I felt less alone that night.
“Ariana.”
“Leave me alone,” I grumble.
“Have you been doing your exams?”
That’s the one thing that I have been finding the energy and willpower to do.
I refuse to let my studies be affected by the stupid heart I stopped trusting years ago.
I can’t say my head is completely clear enough to get the grades I usually pull off, but I’ll pass with flying colours, anyway.
My academics and my career will never suffer based on my own stupidity. Only the rest of my life, apparently.
“Yeah,” I mumble, staring at the screen.
“Move over.”
I snap my eyes to his face, glaring at him.
He raises his brows, gesturing to the bed.
Begrudgingly, I slide over and ignore the way his nose crinkles up when he crawls in next to me.
I haven’t let his housekeeper in here. These sheets haven’t been changed in a while.
I’ve been rotting in them every single day.
I should probably do my laundry, but I can’t find the motivation.
He sits against the headboard, crossing his legs at the ankles, and stares at the TV screen. I go back to watching the movie, too. I don’t cry, even when it gets sad. I’m starting to just feel numb.
About half an hour passes before he speaks.
“Is this about Dad, or about a guy?”
“Neither,” I mumble against the pillow.
I physically feel his relief. “Your old job?”
Sure. I nod.
“What happened?”
“They fired me because I filed a complaint about a coworker,” I finally admit to him, sliding my gaze to his.
I’ve held onto that one for so long that it no longer feels important.
His brow furrows. “He locked me in a room and screamed in my face. He wouldn’t let me leave.
But since it’s a boys’ club, I’m the one who got forced out the door. ”
His jaw ticks, blue eyes going a bit crazy like they do. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
I shrug. “I was embarrassed.”
“And what happened two weeks ago?”
I tug my pillow to my chest. “They blacklisted me in California. None of the companies there will hire me.”
Also true. I went a little crazy the night I got home from Boston’s, and felt a burning need to leave this city.
I started sending emails to every firm in California, and after a few denials, an old colleague reached out.
Victoria. She wanted to let me know that her bosses wouldn’t even consider me for an interview based on what my old firm was saying about me.
“You want to leave Pittsburgh?” he asks. The hurt in his voice stings. I’m too fragile right now to deal with my brother’s pain, too. I am barely holding myself together.
I sniff. I guess it’s back to lying. “No, I sent those out ages ago. An acquaintance just reached out to let me know. I just don’t like that my reputation is being dictated by a bunch of spineless men.”
He stares at me, and I don’t think he believes me, but he reaches over anyway and takes the remote from my hand.
He says nothing. I don’t complain or offer anything more as he puts on Superbad instead of the sad, awful shit that I’ve been watching.
He stays with me throughout the whole movie, and when it ends, he puts on another comedy and leaves the room.
He returns with a pizza full of extra olives, which we eat in silence.
I don’t feel better, but I do feel loved.
Only when he’s getting up to go to bed does he turn to me.
“They’re morons, Ari,” he says. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. Those who aren’t smart enough to recognize that don’t deserve you. Their loss, alright? You’re going to kick ass anyway, it just won’t be with them.”
Those words hurt worse when I think about what I’m really sulking about. Who. It hits a bit harder than it should.
“I keep failing,” I whisper, my eyes burning with tears. “At everything.”
His face softens. “You’re not failing, you’re growing.
Pick yourself up and get back to it like you always do.
You don’t get anywhere lying in bed. I gave you a week of this, then tried to get you out of it for another week.
I’ll force you out of bed tomorrow if you don’t do it on your own.
We’ll go get coffee every morning until you start wanting to face the world again. ”
I roll my eyes, sinking back into the pillows.
He reaches for the doorknob, turning to look at me. “I love you, kid. This is going to pass, alright? It’s a bad day in a sea of good ones.”
I swallow, but I can’t look at him. “I love you, too.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up after I get home from practice.”
I sigh, admitting defeat. “You’re buying.”
He snorts. “You say that as if you’ve ever even bothered to pull out your wallet before.”