“Okay I’m coming in. I knocked five times.” Adam's voice calls out. Suddenly, I feel the covers being snatched from on top of me, I whine in protest, but he ignores me. “I was just on the computer and a UCAS alert came in. You got in to Oxford!” When I don’t respond, he keeps talking. “Now I know you don’t like celebrating, but I already saved up some money for this day. As soon as I come back from my honeymoon, I am taking you wherever you want, whenever you want—”
“I don’t want to go anywhere, I don’t want anything,” I tell him tiredly, “I don’t care.” I pull the covers back over my head. I don’t want to see anything right now, especially the painting hanging over my drawer. The same painting Juliette got me and the same one I cannot seem to throw out.
He pulls them back off and I glare at him. “You’ve been working for this for years and you don’t care?”
“I knew I was getting in.” I try to pull the covers back up but, he holds the blanket in place.
“Don’t you want to celebrate?” His voice sounds desperate, pity overtaking his expression.
“How are you gonna celebrate?”
Acid rises up my throat as I look up at Adam and all I can see is her. Oxford. My dream. I don’t care anymore. I never thought I’d become someone like this, someone so utterly pathetic that can’t manage to think of anyone else, besides her.
My dreams mean nothing if she isn’t there with me. This won’t be forever; I’m not depressed—but for the first time in my life,I finally understand what my father went through. Maybe not to the same extent, but I understand. It hurts. The pain is debilitating, it’s exhausting.
“Is this about Juliette? You still haven’t told me what she did—”
“She used me; she broke my heart. That’s all there is to it,” I state simply.
“Are you hearing yourself? You got in toOxford,Addie! You’re gonna let that girl ruin this?”
“She’s not just that girl.” I spit out sitting up on my bed. Suddenly, I’m angry at him. Why am I defending her right now?
He sighs. “I know it hurts, Addie. I know it does, but you can’t let it swallow you whole.”
“Why not?” I spit out. “Why can’t I? Why does everyone else get to bury themselves in their feelings and take it out on others, butIcan’t let it swallow me whole?” My screams clearly startle him, but his gaze soon softens. He just nods and climbs into bed with me.
I look at him confused before he pulls me into his chest. I struggle out of his grasp, but he keeps me there tighter, until once again I find myself crying and crying. He just holds me there for hours.
***
The next morning is spent the same way, but I have to get out of my bed during the evening as I need to go to Adam's bachelor's party. It’s nothing sleazy, just me and his friends at a local bar, he just wants to play some pool and spend time with his friends while Olivia is somewhere doing the same. She invited me to her bachelorette, but as Adam’s best woman, I felt I should attend his.
Although spa and mimosas should have been the way to go, but for the last hour, I’ve been the life of the party because I’m not trying to make Adam's night about myself, so I’ve pretended to be happy and joyful. I was elated when Adam and his friends went out for a smoke break, I can finally slip out of my entertaining mask.
Now I’m at the bar, sitting for a break—misery has run over me once again and I find myself staring at all the bottles on the shelf.
A want creeps up at the back of my throat.It made him feel better, maybe it’ll make you feel better too.The voice whispers in my ear and I listen.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks, not even asking me for my ID. Why would he? He’s getting paid regardless.
I blank out momentarily. “What would you suggest?” God, I sound stupid, I’ve just never had any alcohol before. He smiles at me coyly and suddenly, I feel sick to my stomach.
“You looking to forget or to remember?” His question throws me off guard for a moment. I didn’t realize bartenders actually sounded like how they do in the movies.
Remember? Or forget? Do I want to remember how beautiful Juliette is, how funny she can be, how utterly cruel she can be when she wants to? The freckles on her back, the stretch marks on her thighs—every kiss, every touch, every gasp, every fight.
“Forget.”
He nods and pours me a shot of what seems to be vodka. I take out my card and tap it to the machine. I lift the shot glass up to my lips, tentatively taking a sip, but then swallowing it whole. It tastes like medicine, cold wretched medicine hitting the back of my throat. It hurts so badly and I grimace openly, the bartender laughs at me.
“Could I get some tequila instead?” I ask, wincing and he just nods with a chuckle. Repeating his earlier ministrations with tequila and I feel like Juliette when I pick the glass up.
Anything. I’ll do anything to feel like she’s right here next to me.
I pick up the glass again, but before it can touch my lips, it’s snatched out of my hands. I swirl my head around confused, only to be met with the concerned gazes of my best friends.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Victoria bellows out.
