Chapter 40
Sleepless
Jon
She smiles at me with a daisy behind her ear, and I give her a kiss on the forehead, inhaling her apple-scented shampoo. Wrapped around me, she says, In the after, we’re with whoever we want to be, forever.
Forever is a long time, I say.
Not when you found the one person who makes you the luckiest.
The room flooded with light. I winced into my pillow as the glare invaded my eyes.
“Time to wake up, Jon,” Dad announced.
Groaning, I rolled away, keeping my eyes tightly shut. “I literally just fell asleep.”
Dad chuckled. “It’s 1pm.”
“Yeah, and I just fell asleep, so would you let me be?”
He let out a deep exhale and took a seat beside me. His hand landed on my shoulder. “I still don’t know how to deal with it myself, but seeing you like this... Don’t you want to call her?”
“Nope.” I opened my eyes and shot him a look, the kind that makes people back off. He sighed, patted my shoulder twice, and left the room without saying another word.
He tried; he really did. But this wasn’t like addiction. It wasn’t something I could work on—or believe me, I would. I’d do anything to be with my Little German again.
I lay there with the weight of unspoken words pressing against my chest. Dad didn’t understand shit about what was going on in there. It wasn’t as simple as picking up the fucking phone and dialing her number.
Closing my eyes, I tried to shut out the world again—but she haunted me. The way her eyes lit up when we wrote together. The sound of her laugh when she made a joke only she thought was funny. The warmth of her touch on my face...
Memories that made me hate myself for not having stayed away from the beginning.
I wrestled with the idea of reaching out. Maybe I should tell her the truth after all—but it would only reopen the wounds. A knot tightened in my stomach.
I got up. The room was stifling; I needed air.
As I stepped out into the hallway, the house seemed unusually quiet. I wandered into the backyard. The sun smiled down at me, pissing me off. I got my phone out of my pants and scrolled through the contacts.
Her name. My thumb so close to making Dad’s advice come true.
I fucking needed her. The familiarity of her voice, the reassurance of her existence.
I pressed the call button.
Every ring held an eternity. Doubt gnawed at me: what if this was a mistake?
The ringing stopped. “Jon...?”
My throat tightened; words caught in my chest.
“Jon, are you okay?” she asked, her voice so soft, so fucking beautiful.
I ended the call.
If I talked to her now, all these weeks would’ve been for nothing.
I leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh. The weight of my past decisions pressed down on my shoulders. I reached for my squares and twirled one between my fingers.
Why do you call them squares? They aren’t even square.
I smiled. Everything reminded me of her, even these toxic things. She was everywhere. If she meant less to me, I wouldn’t have done what I had to do. I owed it to her to make it easier for her... so she could go back to Germany, figure out her family shit, fall in love with a guy who could give her everything.
I tossed the square away and reached for my little black book tucked in my pants instead, writing with the key chain pen that was nearly dry by now.
Little German...
You stopped me from having a smoke because I wanted to write to you.
I wrote in a rotten old chair until the sun set. The mosquitoes resumed their assault on my legs, which already bore their marks from the previous night.
I had a joint. I lit it.
Everyone would give me crap about it, but nothing mattered anymore anyways.
“What the fuck, man!”
I flinched and the joint slipped from my fingers, landed on my lap and burned a hole through my pants. “Fuck,” I said, blotting out the burn with my fingers.
Paul was striding up to me with thunder in his face. “You can’t be fucking serious, Jon!”
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for him to push me out of the chair, but then something changed: he stilled and took a few deep breaths.
“Kiki’s good for you, isn’t she?” I remarked.
Unlike me, Paul had allowed her to help him. I had seen them together in the school halls. They were a good match, and despite Emily’s misgivings, I found comfort in knowing they could be there for each other. But Paul had better be there for Emily too.
Paul crossed his arms. “Yeah, she is,” he said evenly. “And you know who’s good for you? Emily.”
I should’ve known this fucker was only so calm because he had an agenda.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I growled, relighting the joint. If I had to have this talk with him, I needed to be high.
Paul slapped it out of my hands before I could take a hit. “Shit, did she go through all this crap with you for nothing?!”
I glared at him, anger and resentment boiling within me. “You don’t get it, man. Emily and I... it’s over. Done. Vorbei.” The German word for over.
“Vorbei?” He let out a snort. “Jon, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Emily cares about you. You’re spiraling, and you’re pulling everyone down with you.”
“Save your psychoanalysis for someone who gives a damn, Paul. I don’t need a lecture.” A thumping sensation in my head was gaining rigor.
“Heck, I kept trying to understand but I couldn’t, so that’s why I’m here. Even though you”—Paul pointed an accusatory finger at me—“haven’t even said a word to me since you came back from rehab. The last few weeks, no, months, she kept saying you wouldn’t break her heart. She keeps saying you need time. Who knows where that optimism and patience I never got is coming from—”
“What are you trying to say, man?”
Paul laughed, dropping into the other chair out of pure exhaustion. “You put me through so much shit in the last few months, but if our friendship means even the slightest fraction of what it does to me... then fucking talk to her.”
You had to admire the guy for going for it. If our roles were reversed, I doubt I’d be strong enough to fight for them to get back together.
“You still care about me?” I said, because I could barely believe it. He wasn’t supposed to care anymore—neither of them were.
Paul leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the sky. “You were my best friend for a long time. I’ll always care about you.”
A slight smile soured on my lips. There was so much I wanted to tell him, but nothing I could say would repair the damage I had caused. I couldn’t ask for his forgiveness, not when I hadn’t paid back my debt yet.
“I care about you too, man,” I said, meaning it. “But I still need more time to fix things.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, forget about it.”
“Fine,” he said, but I could see a hint of a smile on his face. “I still hate you though,” he added.
“That’s fair.” I reached for the joint in the grass and passed it to him. “Care to get rid of this? I haven’t had a drag yet.”
Paul took it from me with a nod. “Will you talk to her?”
I hissed out a breath. He would only let it go if I gave him something. “I’ll think about it.”
He rolled his eyes and got out of the chair. “This is the last time I’m doing your damage control, you hear?”
“Thanks, man.” For being there for her.
I watched him leave through the gate. My plan was failing... She wasn’t letting go.
I had to try harder.