Thirty Five-1

TIME MELTS INTO INFINITY Twenty-seven days since I last left my bed for anything other than school, the painfully necessary task of eating or use of the bathroom or the shower. Twenty-seven days since I accepted that he really is gone. Twenty-seven days since I felt like I was whole. Twenty-seven days since I ate anything other than ramen noodles dry from the package or drank anything aside from herbal tea and water. Twenty-seven days since I fell to pieces. I'm pathetic. I used to make fun of girls like me until I became one. Tori and Madeline have become fast friends, united in their efforts to get me to move. Xavier stops by every single day to check on me. I never speak to him. I can't. I have excessive amounts of resentment directed to him and I figure since I have nothing nice to say, I should say nothing at all. He brings me cartons of Chinese food that I don't eat and tries to make me watch movies that I don't want to watch. He keeps coming, determined to get me to speak to him. He gets an A plus for effort but I can't bring myself to care. I care about nothing. I want to do nothing. Like I told X, I want to stop existing. It's such a stupid thing to do. It's Saturday. Tomorrow will be the 4th Sunday without Jackson. I particularly hate Sundays. Tori left to get coffee and Madeline has just let herself in. She's fussing with the curtain near my bed, trying to let the sun pierce through the darkness I have come to prefer. I hiss at her and pull the covers up and over my head. "Quit with the drama, Lola," she says. "It's almost six o'clock at night." I'm sure Madeline is over my sadness, but I'm not. I never will be. "Six o'clock is as good a time as any to sleep," I say from beneath my blanket. Madeline tugs at it. "That's all you do is sleep." Because it's where I can dream. That's why I sleep. It's the closest I will ever be to Jackson Nathaniel Sunday again. "I don't want to do anything else." "I don't care what you want at this point," Madeline says. "I'm all for break up cartons of ice cream and makeshift voodoo dolls, but this has got to stop." "We didn't break up," I remind her. "He vanished. Back of the milk carton style. He could be an episode of Dateline." "I understand he's gone," she says, "but you need to move on. This isn't healthy." Don't. Care. I roll over, attempting to take my blankets with me, but suddenly they're being ripped off of my body in the most unforgiving way. "Madeline!" I yell into the pillow. "You're allowed to feel sad Lola. You're allowed to grieve and to hurt and ache and suffer for your loss. But you've been doing that for a month and it's time you got out and did something." "I'd rather chew on a dinner of razorblades and wash it down with rubbing alcohol." "You sure are a ray of sunshine. Razorblades and rubbing alcohol is not in your future, darling, we are going out." "Define we." "Tori, me and you, Lola. So help me God if I have to drag you by your heels, kicking and screaming the entire time you're going. So we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your pick." I sit up in bed just as Tori walks in. She has three coffees in a take out tray and her eyes widen in surprise when she notices the lump growing under the covers-me-has moved. "It was not by choice," I mutter. "If you're looking for sympathy, look elsewhere," Tori says. "You need to get up, get moving. It sucks but life goes on." I roll my eyes, already tired of being the brunt of their positive bullshit. Tori hands me my coffee and I snatch it from her, determined to let them know the extent of my disgust for their pushy ways but they ignore the gesture and start buzzing around the room like we're going to prom. "Drink that," Madeline orders. "Then you need a shower." I set the coffee on the small table between Tori's bed and mine and rise. Standing is a task in itself because I do it so infrequently now. "I'll shower first." I grab my toiletry bag and shuffle down the hallway. Defeated. Defeated in life, defeated in my efforts to mourn and defeated in my fight against Madeline and Tori. I shower only long enough to soap myself and give my hair a decent wash before wrapping my towel around myself and heading back to the room. I hate the shower. Every time I take one, I'm reminded of coming back in here and seeing Jackson for the first time. Crazy Jackson Nathaniel Sunday. Lovely Jackson Nathaniel Sunday. My Jackson Nathaniel Sunday. Needless to say it goes a step above an epic disappointment to know he's not going to be splayed across Tori's bed again. When I return, they've set up what looks like a cosmetic counter across Tori's bed. Madeline pats my bed, hands me the coffee I'd left and smiles. "Sit." I don't see any point in arguing so I follow her orders and sit on the bed. My hair is still wrapped in a towel and Madeline removes it, arming herself with a blow dryer while Tori starts scanning her selection of cosmetic brushes, selecting one while choosing a shade of foundation that matches my skin. And they spend the next hour like that. Tori applying my make up and Madeline tending to my hair that she has dried, and styled in large loose waves free-falling down my back. I've not even seen myself yet and I've never felt like such a girl. Madeline is done first and she heads to Tori's closet, not mine, and selects a pair of dark denim skinny jeans and a boho type lacy white top. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she's chosen the most hippy like item of clothing in Tori's closet. In fact, if I'm not sporting a flower crown I'll be shocked. Tori makes me pucker my lips to a tissue and stands back to admire her work. "God Lola, I mean this in the nicest way possible but who knew you had all that going on under there. You're a babe!" I can't help but smile, and when I do, it's like they've witnessed the second coming of Jesus. "Did you just smile?" Madeline says. It's accusatory in tone like smiling is a sin. I bite my lip and shake my head. "Lies," Tori says. "All of it lies. I saw." I say nothing as I take the clothes offered by Madeline and change into them. I don't want to admit it but this is the first time in eons I have felt like an actual human being. "Where are we going?" "To the movies," Tori says. I wave my hands across my body, showcasing their masterpiece. "This seems a bit much for a movie." "It was necessary," Madeline says. "You need to feel good about yourself." "Mission as accomplished. I guess." I can't go so far as to say I feel good. It would be a lie. I feel adequate. Madeline finishes winding the cord of the now cooled curling iron and setting it on Tori's dresser. "Great. Come on then." We pile into the car. Tori drives, Madeline takes the front seat and I'm in the back. It's like Driving Miss Daisy, college version. I've been more of a burden than a friend to them lately and I promise myself that at least for tonight, I'll try to be one of the girls. When we pull up to a large frat house, however and I realize I've been duped, I couldn't care less about being a burden. Red solo cups litter the front lawn, music blasts from speakers I can't see and people are shoulder to shoulder. I don't like being tricked, like it even less when it's to attend somewhere I have zero desire to be.