Crave

chapter five: drift into a deep fog

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I'm not suicidal

I just can't get out of bed

I drift into a deep fog...

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I loved my little sister to death, but I was cursing her name over the last few days. Ever since she planted that little seed about Zack, I couldn't get it out of my head. I was confused enough, still feeling so hurt beyond belief about Jeremy, that having the thought of what was clearly a situation-ship that had blossomed accidentally between Zack and I that summer just a few years ago was chaotic and utterly confusing.

Cory and I went back to LA to get my things from Jeremy, and it was all I could think about on the drive there and back. I was glad that he offered to drive, towing the U-Haul trailer behind his FJ with ease. My beloved royal blue Toyota Solara convertible, currently getting serviced after sitting virtually untouched for the last six years, obviously could not handle the haul. I couldn't help but feel guilty, sitting right next to my brother, mulling over a situation that had long passed, but could be seen as a signal of betrayal on his end. Cory was protective, and I'd hated going to parties with him in high school simply because he'd chase away any of my prospects because "they weren't good enough for me." 

Looking back, it was almost a sweet gesture. Almost. It meant more sneaking around on my part, which I hated, but ultimately had to do. That is, until my junior year, when he suddenly burst into my bedroom at 3 in the morning and made me promise I wouldn't date any of his friends, jumping on my bed over and over again until I finally chucked a pillow at him, agreeing. At the time, it wasn't a hard promise to keep - they were stinky teenage boys, after all. Once we both became adults, it became a different story. But the rule is, ultimately, that you don't date your brother's friends. And although I never really gave it much thought, seeing that summer through this different lens made me question everything.

I will say, I was relieved to be rid of Jeremy, once and for all. He looked like shit, truthfully, his eyes sunken in more than usual. His chestnut brown hair was disheveled, and he hadn't shaved in at least a week. His place was a mess, and he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed when Cory began banging on his door, at first loud, then descending into a near-menacing rhythm. Jeremy had ripped the door open angrily before his face fell, realizing the two of us were there behind it.

I didn't feel an ounce of pity for him. Boohoo, you got caught cheating on your fiancée! If it isn't the consequences of your own actions, I wanted to shout at him. Instead, I rolled my eyes stayed firm when he began his groveling, begging for me to take him back, to give him another chance.

"I'd rather jump off the roof," I told him plainly. "Where's the storage key? I need my stuff."

He shuffled over to the table by the entryway, and leafed through the bowl. "Here," he muttered dejectedly, and Cory and I pressed past him, down the hall, to his massive storage unit. We quickly loaded up my boxes, and I surveyed his penthouse for anything else of mine, before stomping out for the last time.

I didn't shed a tear then, but I did later that night, holed up under my freshly washed sheets in Cory's spare bedroom. I bought all of the furniture with him earlier that day, trying my best not to cry as I signed for everything. I hated the situation so much, and I hated that I couldn't control myself in public even more. So, under my sheets I went, and that's where I stayed, though, over the next few days. 

Unfortunately, this wasn't the first breakup to send me into hiding, so Cory knew I needed that time to just... feel... and left me to my own devices. He'd come in during the mornings and evenings with something to eat and a glass of water. One night, we watched a movie together, and even cracked a few jokes. But I mostly cried, felt sorry for myself, and just felt all of the emotions I'd been running from since that fateful day two weeks prior.