I missed Kells. Which was darkly amusing in the level of bizarre that statement really was. We had barely gotten to know one another, been on one real date. It might have been more truthful to say I missed the idea of him, but even so, I missed what I did know about him. I missed his eyes and how they looked at me. I missed his sultry voice calling me Joshy, a nickname I had never accepted from anyone before. I missed his big arms wrapped around me while we made out. I missed the chance to be bold. I missed the hope that I could be desirable. Wanted. Connected.
Every day going by hurt. He didn't call. He didn't text me. I refuse to call or text him, because of how things had ended. To strengthen my resolve I deleted his contact, a move I found myself sometimes regretting. Still, it was done now. Sadly, the more time that passes the more I understand my brief interlude with romance is over. It's been just about a month, and I am fucking miserable. At least without his number I can't embarrass him or myself by leaving drunk texts. Still, time passes so slowly. August is rearing its ugly head, and soon summer is going to be over. Not that summer means much to most working people, but believe me when I say that working at a university, you appreciate the summer for being a quieter calmer time frame. I figured maybe by the time classes were back in session in September I'd have healed up a bit and be able to focus again. I now think I was being too optimistic.
Focus has been an issue. There exists no other word for how I have been the last few weeks other than grey. Everything is just grey. I get up, I go to work, I do my tasks and head home. And then I sleep. Sleeping takes the grey away, for a little bit. Sometimes though, it doesn't work very well and I'll wake myself at two in the morning crying. Not full on sobs. Just hot tears scalding my face, and I just lie still and wait for the pain to run out of me a bit. The greyness becomes comforting then, because if I concentrate on it I don't have to remember or think about what could have been. Thinking just reminds me how stupidly I acted and how much I embarrassed myself by thinking I had a shot at a real relationship. I never want to feel such shame and hurt again. Each time the memories slap me in the face, I vow to stay in my lane from now on. Maybe it will be a quiet lonely lane filled with cats, but there for sure wouldn't be anything like this hurt in the future. Eventually, even on hard nights I'd fall back asleep. The next morning I wake again, head to work and start the cycle over.
I knew I was scaring my boss. She watches me every day with worried eyes. I feel badly about how lackluster I am, but it was like I couldn't change. Heidi tried to get me to open up once, but the raw pain that flashed into me left me choking and running to the bathroom. After a fifteen minute crying jag I came back into the Testing Center with red rimmed eyes and offered the excuse of a "migraine" to take the rest of the day out sick. Heidi's face had been drawn and pale as she quickly agreed and hoped for me to feel better with an extra long hug and meaningful look. I wanted to care enough to reassure her. But I couldn't and still can't manage to come up with the effort to comfort anyone including myself.
I would probably have been scaring Maris too, if she had seen me. But I keep my phone turned off mostly, and when we do speak I keep the calls short and reassure her things are ok and I just need space. As I had never gotten around to giving her those new spare keys she can't get in my house to ambush me. She has come by a few times, but each time I play possum, listening to her knock and call out to me and waiting for her to leave. I haven't been out with her. I rarely call or text her, or anyone else. I also haven't gone back to my favorite coffee shop at all, because I am terrified to run into him. At least now I don't have to worry about nonfat milk comments regarding my pudge from the slutty barista, which suddenly was a joke. My clothing is beginning to become noticeably looser, but I can't find the will to do anything about it. I have no appetite. I've probably dropped a good twenty pounds. Look kiddos, you too can drop several pant sizes in a month! Just have your heart ripped out!
Everything just seems so pointless anymore. I can no longer care about anything but showing up to work and performing my duties, which I do silently and robotically, anticipating the time I can go home and crawl back in my bed. Part of me knows this is unhealthy, that this behavior is likely a slow spiral towards a lot more darkness. I know this because I have been here before. Still, while part of me recognizes the danger and knows I should be reaching out for help, I just can't seem to care anymore. The endless days and nights of grey stretching out for the rest of my life seem extremely overwhelming all of a sudden. It was just past six o'clock on a Wednesday in early August when things came to a head.
**********
He isn't here. Again. I tried to keep my anger and frustration in check as I pretend to care about what the daily special is at The Buzz. I have tried to pop in daily, whenever my work days have me patrol anywhere near the coffee shop, just to try and catch him. I have never caught him. The barista Josh hates is always giving me the calf eyes, and it makes me even more annoyed that Josh wasn't here to challenge him with his cute little jealousy displays.
I was and probably still am a giant horses ass. I didn't even realize how much Josh meant to me, how much I had anticipated talking with him, teasing him, and getting to know him. You never appreciate things until they're gone, right?
When I sobered up the next day after the fiasco at the club, Chris filled me in on how the night ended. Basically I had drank myself stupid. Then after shouting and crying alternately for a few hours about my rotten luck to attract pretty boys with wandering eyes, Chris said I remembered this invention called the cell phone. But apparently I sat down suddenly after reading a few texts from Josh and then started flipping out. Chris said I babbled something about being a fuckup and needing a lobotomy and then screamed to him that the professor was a girls dude. Then apparently I began crying again. Soon after according to him I destroyed my phone by slamming it down multiple times and throwing it at the wall, which I did remember, just without context. I guess after that I kicked the office door a bit and then passed out, all while Chris kept his distance for fear of being mistaken for either a phone or a door I guess.
The worst part of all this childish behavior of mine? When I had my phone replaced I learned I hadn't backed up my contact list. I have no way to get a hold of Josh. Until or unless he contacts me, I am stuck trying to catch him somewhere random. Which clearly isn't working out at all, I thought despondently as I look around a coffee shop which is empty of any temptation. I sigh and decide to get back to work. Turning around to leave I stop in my tracks. I am being stared down and sized up by a tiny redhead a half dozen steps away. She looks as if she is going to eat my soul.
"Officer Kells I presume?"
Her tone is frosty but her eyes burn with fire. I come instantly on guard.
"Who's asking?"
I bark back, if I have to make an arrest I hope it won't be against a psychotic little ginger Chihuahua.
" Oh I'm Maris, Josh's best friend. Aha, I see from that face you aren't a totally stupid bastard. Or are you? Since you've not said a word to him in a month. You slimy piece of...how fucking dare you!"
The last part of her speech hisses out in a passionate ugly whisper, as she seems to be obviously trying not to make a scene. I waver between anger at her attitude and disrespect and joyous relief that finally now I can get back in touch with Josh.
"Oh thank God! Listen you have to get him to talk to me!"
I am panting in relief, already imagining Josh back with me.
"The fuck I do." Her tone laced with disgust. "You don't get it. You've nearly destroyed him. I don't have to give you shit except the advice to man up and stop being a jealous twat of a fuckup. Why don't you just call him? If you want him so badly?"
She glares at me, not just in anger but true loathing. Destroyed him? What does she mean? Nevermind, I just need to know how I can reach him.
"I can't. I kinda smashed my phone that night, being a 'jealous fuckup' as you put it. My phone wasn't on automatic backup so I lost his contact info. And he hasn't gotten a hold of me. I come here every day just hoping I'll see him," I sadly plea my case.
