Chapter 24

The front door opens and I look up from my place on the couch. Trisha walks in and stops, staring at me. "Ho- How'd you- How did you get in?" I stutter, dropping my heavy head back down onto the seat rest. My living room is spinning. "The key under the sunflower plant... Your spare key." I'm unable to lift my head as she bends down next to me, moving my hair from my eyes. "Jesus, Genny." "What- What time is it?" "It's seven... at night. I've been calling." "I-I didn't- hear it." "I can see that. Drink that whole bottle did you?" I shake my head. "Half." "I'm surprised you haven't thrown up all over yourself to be honest." I smile sleepily, nodding. She sighs, standing. "Alright, come on." I groan as she grabs my arms, lifting me up. "Come on, stand up." I do so, shakily and with her help, stumble towards the bedroom. "How long have you been drinking?" I shake my head, unable to remember. "Alright, I'm guessing for a while. Eaten?" I look at her and she rolls her eyes. "Guess that's a no. Hun, lay down. Yeah, right here." I settle down onto my cold sheets, remembering when Tristan was in them with me. She moves her hair from her face, staring down at me. "I'm going to get you some water, food and Tylenol. Lots of Tylenol... Okay?" I shake my head, grabbing her hand as she turns. "Please, just s-stay. Lay down with me." Nodding, she sets down her purse and climbs in over the covers next to me. She extends her arm and I move towards her, happy for the comfort. We sit silently and I realize it's going to be hell going to sleep tonight. This room is spinning like a disco ball. She smooth's her hand over my hair, pushing it back from my face. I feel my lip tremble and rest my head on her chest, breaking down. "It's okay, Gen. It will be okay," she whispers, cooing softly as if she were my mother. I'm unable to stop, knowing I've never felt like this ever. I've never felt this kind of pain before. "He's not worth your tears, baby. Don't cry over him." I hold both my hands over my eyes, pushing down as if that will somehow get the tears to cease. I hate this. I wipe my eyelids, desperate to stop. I don't want to show her this. Minutes pass this way and the sobs cease, only silent tears remain. "I've never seen you like this..." she whispers, clutching me tighter. "I've known you forever... I don't think I've ever even seen you cry... well, except during those PETA commercials." I can't hold the laugh in. I shake my spinning head, closing my aching eyes. "I've- I've never felt this before." "What do you feel?" "... Worthless." "Now you're talking crazy." "... Have you ever felt- felt like someone was- meant- meant for you?" She's silent for a moment before she speaks. "No." "He made me fe-feel that way... Every time I was with him, it was like- like the world fell away and- and he just casted me aside as if everything we've been through was nothing to him." "He doesn't deserve you." I sniffle, looking forward at dress hanging from my closet- the one from the symphony. "I- think I was falling for him." She looks down at me, eyes wide and I nod. "I know, I don't even know him... But, I don't know how to explain-" "You do not have to justify it to me. No one can understand what you both have been through in this journey and whether or not he feels the same, those memories will be with you both forever. I don't blame you for falling in love with someone who was there for you during that." "I just wish I had trusted myself... I knew he would do this." "Maybe- Maybe he lied to the interviewer? Maybe he didn't want anyone to know. He could still call..." "No, he won't. I left him a voicemail... It was b-bad. Told him to never call me again." She nods, rubbing my arm. "We'll spend tomorrow together, alright? Go see a movie at the park, eat really bad... Sound good?" I nod, smiling. "Thank you, Trish." ... I sit up, rubbing my eyes, hearing repeated banging from the kitchen. My head feels like a balloon, ready to pop any second. I need to find Tylenol. Standing up, I walk to my bathroom and stop at the sink. The reflection of my own face scares me. I force myself to look away, pulling open the cabinet. Unscrewing the bottle, I pour three into my hand and raise them to my lips. The sink water is cool against my dry throat. I really should have drank water last night... Oh well, I'm just lucky I didn't vomit and die. I shut the mirror, bracing myself against the sink, remembering parts and pieces of last night. I barely remember the day. And Tristan's public appearance. I remember that well. I grab my robe, putting it on over the sundress I never took off yesterday. I can't help that I look like shit and I don't care enough to fix it so I leave the bathroom, on route for the kitchen. As I suspected, Trisha is at the stove, making food. Well, trying to, it looks like. She groans, shaking her head and I laugh, gaining her attention. "Ah, Miss Waterworks is up." I glare at her, tousling my hair to the other side. "You're so nice." She smiles, shaking her head. "I'm trying to cook your damn breakfast but I keep burning the damn crepes." "You didn't have to pick such a hard thing to make," I chuckle, walking over to where she is at. "Oh well, excuse me for trying to cook you something nice!" "Damn, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." "Well, a guy that play with my friends emotions does that to me. I don't like seeing you like that." I kiss her hair, smiling. "Which is why I love you." She huffs, dropping yet another crepe into the waste basket. "Why don't we go out for breakfast?" I ask, knowing that will be better than anything she's going to make. "You think it's okay to go out?" I shrug, taking the pan from her. "There's nothing I can do about this, Trisha. This is my life. I can't stop it." She leans back against the counter as I begin cleaning the dishes. "Something came for you this morning... A letter." I look at her, shocked and against my will, feel a twinge of hope in my heart. "Where is it?" "It's in the mail bowl by the door... Are you sure you want to open it?" I swallow. "How- how can I not? What if- What if he has an explanation?" "But what if he doesn't? Honey, what's in that letter could really hurt you." "I can't not open it, Trisha." I leave the plates in the sink and walk through the foyer, eyes on the blue bowl by the door. I pick up the first letter, seeing it was certified mail. Overnight. Taking a deep breath, I open the letter with my index finger, ripping the seam. My heart pounds as I take out the single page but it drops just as suddenly when I notice the small, typed print and realize he did this at work. He made this professional. My eyes scan the first words hesitantly. Dear Genevieve, I received your voicemail this morning and I am very sorry for the unfortunate turn of events. You are a very kind person and I am grateful to have encountered you, especially knowing how much you helped me in Thailand. But I made a mistake, leaving Casey. I've realized that now and I'm sorry for any pain I've caused you. She has moved back into my apartment and we are finding a way to fix what was damaged by my careless actions. Please know that I'm grateful you have not gone to the press or spoken out about me. It means a lot, as you know. I hope you do not despise me too much, but then, I also understand as well if you do. I wish you all the best, Genevieve. Sincerely, Tristan Maddox CEO and Founder of Maddox Global There are no tears this time. No shortness of breath. No trembling. Just anger. Anger for the coldness of his letter, anger for the faith I didn't even realize I was still holding onto- faith that made me believe he was a good man. I look up at Trisha and shake my head, scoffing. She stares at me, I think scared to see what my reaction will be. But I don't have one. "I'm going to get ready... I think we should go to Romano's... They have excellent crepes there." I leave the letter on the counter. She can read it if she wants to. I certainly will never look at it again.