Chapter 1
“I trusted you! I trusted you, and now I don’t even know who you are, Peter. I don’t remember the you from Before. All I know is that I gave you a part of me. A piece of my life that no one else knew about, and all you did was leave me there! Alone! So get out. Get the hell out. I’m done, I swear to god, I’m done.” tears are running down my face, and I don’t even care, because the one person I cared about most in the world, suddenly doesn’t matter anymore.
“Before? What do you mean before? Look, Jess, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he cries, “But it was for your own good, believe me. You needed help. Help I couldn’t give you. You know I never wanted to hurt you, right? It couldn’t have been that bad, could it? I’ve always wanted to be the one to dry your tears, not cause them! That won’t ever change, please believe me.” so many questions. He was coming closer to me, reaching out, but he didn’t know. He didn’t know what happened to me. And he’s the one who sent me there. He’ll never know.
“Please, leave.” I go past him to open the door, both of us with tears staining our faces, and despite everything, the look in his eyes still makes my heart hurt. He doesn’t know he doesn’t know he can’t know he can’t know.
Peter looks at me right in the eyes, and leaves.
Before:
“Chinese or Indian?” sprawled out on my newly delivered Ikea couch, Peter’s looking at two different menus online. “I’m thinking Chinese, considering we had Indian a couple days ago, but whichever one you prefer.”
“Don’t you think I should make food? Have a nice first meal for my first day in this apartment?”
“Jess, look around. You have a blow up mattress, a couch, and a suitcase. Where are you planning on getting cooking utensils?”
“Fine, Chinese sounds good. Order my usual, please.” He’s on the phone a minute later, and I look around the apartment that I have finally moved into. Peter’s right, there isn’t much furniture other than my air mattress and couch, but at least I have my own bathroom, and sink. There’s an extra room that I’m not sure what I’ll do with, but it’s nice to have. I have a fridge, too. It’ll take awhile, but I’m excited to make it my own. It’s been awhile, since anything’s been my own. I wonder if I’ll ever know the difference between being on my own, and being alone.
We spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching Brooklyn 99 on his computer. It’s a little past three am, after we’ve both decided he should just sleepover, when I break the silence. “Thanks for helping me move in today.”
“No problem. I know you need my strong masculine muscles to help carry this couch up the stairs.” he teases, earning him a smack on the shoulder. “But really, you know I’d do anything for you, even something as boring as helping you move into your apartment. Plus, I’m glad we got to hang out.” When he looks at me, there’s a sparkle in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. His eyes are a washed blue, the opposite of my dark brown ones. He’s looking at my lips, I can tell, but I’m not sure what to make of it. He couldn’t possibly… No, never mind. Forget I said anything. I rest my head on his shoulder, avoiding eye contact with him; my best friend. That’s all we were.
“I’m glad we got to hang out, too. It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to just sit around.”
“Yeah, I missed you.”
“Me too. But, now that it’s summer, we’ll get to hang out all the time.”
“Definitely. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go change into pajamas.” He nods and I leave the room to go into my bedroom, where my air mattress and suitcase sits. I pull out some sleep shorts and a long sleeve shirt. I go to the bathroom and get ready for bed the way I do every night. Brush teeth, wash face, moisturizer, arms, clean up, stare at myself in the mirror above the sink once I’m finished. Ugly. I shook away the thought and splash water on my face, only after realizing that I’ve messed up the routine and have to start again. When I’m done, I go out to the living room to find Peter half asleep in what looks to be a very uncomfortable position on the couch.
“C’mon, sleepyhead. Your neck will hurt in the morning.” I grab his hands to pull him up, but he’s a good head taller than me and I’m gonna need a little more help than what I’m getting. “Dude, if you don’t get up, I’m gonna have to leave you here on the floor.” I get a grumble in return, but he starts walking by himself anyway.
“You okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep on the couch.” his eyes are only half open, and I can tell that all he wants to do is fall asleep immediately on my mattress, but I appreciate the fact that he asks, despite the fact that he’s clearly exhausted.
“Yeah, of course. I would’ve left you on the couch if I wasn’t.” He strips down to a shirt and boxers, and it’s so normal for us that I almost don’t notice the butterflies in my stomach.
“So thoughtful.” he whispers as I dip down onto the bed next to him. He pulls me closer and I let him, feeling safe despite the wish that the bed could swallow me whole. “G’night, Jess.”
“Goodnight, Peter.” we drift off and I dream of nothing.
When I wake up, my head is in his chest and his arms are around my frame. I look up to see his eyes already open, looking down at my own. “Hey. How long have you been awake?”
“Not long. Did you sleep okay?” I try to ignore the fact that I’m still in his arms, even though we’re awake now and could both pull away very easily.
“Yeah. Did you?” he nods, and looks at me a little longer before pulling me up with him. “Do you wanna go out for breakfast? I don’t really have any food here yet.”
“Sure, sounds good. I’m gonna go change and go to the bathroom, but I’ll be out in a sec.” I take the time while he’s away to get ready myself, pulling on a sweatshirt and shorts. “Hey, Jess?” he calls from the bathroom, startling me a bit. He opens the door to the bathroom, standing there putting on a shirt and jeans, a concerned look etched on his face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, uh, did you hurt yourself while we were moving in or something? There’s dry blood on the floor that wasn’t here when we got here yesterday.” I feel my face go hot, knowing already that it’s a shade of pink.
“I’m uh, sorry, I’m on my period right now. It’s probably that. I’ll clean it up.” I walk straight into the bathroom, avoiding all eye contact. I wonder when it became this easy to try and lie to him.
“Oh. Don’t be sorry. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” he watches me as I get a paper towel and wet it with water, scrubbing the spots of blood on the tile. I scrub hard even though I’m sure all the blood is gone. It has to go away it has to go away. I can hear Peter telling me that the blood is gone, that I can stop, but none of this registers. He’s on the floor now, I see it through my peripheral vision, and it’s not until he takes my arms in his hands that I stop cleaning. His grip is a little tight, making me wince. His grip loosens when I finally look at him, taking a breath. “Jess, what’s going on?” At this, I cry. I don’t know how long it goes on for, but by the time I’m done, he’s sitting next to me instead of across, and his arms are wrapped around my shoulders.
“It’s nothing, sorry. I’m probably just overwhelmed with moving into a new space, is all.”
He looks at me dead in the eyes, one of the most serious looks I’ve ever been on the receiving end of, and his voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it, “we both know that isn’t it.”
“Okay, maybe it isn’t. But it’ll change the way you look at me. You’re my best friend, Peter. I can’t lose you because of my shitty problems.”
“Someone who leaves you because of your problems isn’t a best friend in the first place.” At these words, I lift up my sleeves and let him see the torture I have done to my body. Littered with self inflicted cuts, scars, and bruises, I’m not surprised when he tears up. “How long has this been going on?”
“10th grade.” He finally looks up from inspecting both my arms.
“Five years? Fuck, Jess. Does anyone know?” I shake my head and he wraps me into his arms, his chin resting on my head. I cry all over again and he holds me even when I stop.
“You know, it’s funny. I haven’t cried in so long, and as soon as you ask me about all of this, I break down. Isn’t that silly?”
“God, Jess. None of this is silly.”
“Life is. Don’t you see, Peter? I don’t want to be alive, but here I am. That’s silly, because there are so many people who want to live but can’t, not properly. And here I am, taking it for granted, even though nothing all that bad has happened to me.”
“What’s this one from?” he’s pointing to a small red oval on my right arm, not a cut or a bruise. My first scar.
“Ah, the start of it all. My mom got didn’t see me next to her and accidentally put out her cigarette on my arm. It hurt at first, but I ended up liking the pain. It made me feel something. She said she was sorry, never did it again, but that’s when I got ideas, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m sorry, Jess. You don’t deserve all of this pain.”
“Maybe not, but I like it anyway.” he pulls me closer in his arms at this comment, and I close my eyes for a second; all of this talk making me very emotionally drained.
A loud bang. Sounds like metal falling. I don’t know where I am. Suffocate. Apartment. Breathe breathe breathe. New apartment. Calm the hell down. Someone walking around the kitchen area. 10… 9… 8… Peter. Oh. I sit up, my shirt feels a little damp, but I ignore it. I get up and walk over to where the loud sound came from to find Peter with two bags of groceries next to him and and an old pan on the floor. “Hey! Sorry I dropped the pan. Scared myself half to death, but I wanted to make some food for us since we never got to eat. How do you feel about pancakes?”
“You didn’t have to do all of this. I’ll pay you back. I’m so sorry.”
“No, you won’t, because the groceries were easy and this is my own pan. And if you’re ever going to apologize to me, do it when there’s something worth being sorry about.” I manage a smile before bumping his hip to the side with my own so I can take the eggs from his hand and put it in the pancake batter. “Hey! I was trying to do something nice. You can’t just take over.”
“Last time you tried to make pancakes there were eggshells whenever I tried to take a bite. You did this to yourself.” He whines in return, but gets onto cutting some fruit anyway.
When we’re done piling on syrup, strawberries, whipped cream, and strawberries, we take a seat on the Ikea couch. “Thank you for doing this, seriously. I really appreciate-”
“Jess?”
“Yeah?”
“As much as I appreciate the thought, I’m hungry.” his stomach grumbles, making me laugh as we dig in.
After:
It’s cold. I am cold. And tired. I am tired too. Long day, you know? I’m gonna crawl into bed now. Maybe I’ll stay there forever. I can hear cars honking and people talking outside. Isn’t silly? Even when my life stops, the world just continues on. How silly.
My bed is warm. It feels nice to be back home, where the room isn’t cold and the sheets aren’t scratchy and the water doesn’t taste stale. It’s almost midnight, and even though my bed feels cozy, I can’t help but remember when it felt even more warm. I remember the way he held me in his arms; the way his eyes would only be half open when he woke up, keeping me close even when I wanted to get ready; but most of all, I remember how safe it felt. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get that again.
