But none of it feels evenremotely freeing to me.
It's only been two weeksbut it feels like a lifetime.He doesn't talk to me.He doesn'teven look at me.He isn't unkind, he just no longer seems to careabout me either way.I know it's the right thing—that it's the onlyway we can move on and hopefully find our way back to ourfriendship… eventually.But that knowledge doesn't make it stingany less.
I feel the weight of myinvisible chains in every aching cell of my body.Whoever saidthattime heals all woundsmust have been on something.Because I know aboutwounds, and healed or not, some wounds scar.Some woundskill.
One miserable day rollsinto the next and instead of gradually dulling, the hopelessnessjust snowballs.Carl and Tina have been attentive, thoughtfulfriends, but still, I couldn't feel more alone.It's not that Idon't appreciate them—I do.
But these past two weekshave been miserable.
It is pitiful and it ispathetic.I amthat girl.The one who is just utterly lost without the guyshe loves.It's shameful, but I can't find it in myself tocare.
But Sam is getting on withhis life.He's been completely avoiding me in the process, but thisis me not being selfish.This is me protecting someone I love.Andas much as it hurts, I can't regret that.
Robin's lawyer has made amotion to dismiss the charges and the whole trial could be overbefore it ever begins as a result.My mother has been workingclosely with the prosecutor down in Miami, but I fear we will allsoon discover just how far small town politics canreach.
I already know what toexpect.
It's not that I thinkthey'll dismiss all of the charges outright.There's too muchevidence for that to happen.But this is the beginning of thenegotiation.They will be at least partially successful, and it'slikely that it will be the lesser charges that will stick.Surprisingly enough, it's the violation of my restraining orderthat's most damning, so I can only hope that he doesn't weasel hisway out of that one.But whatever the outcome, the Forbeses willuse it to leverage a plea deal, and they'll come to some kind ofagreement.And it won't be anything near what he deserves, oranything the legal resources at his disposal won't resolve withsome community service or probation.
I'm pretty sure Sam, as awitness, and probably Tucker too, would have been contacted andinformed.But if either of them have, they haven't shown any signsof it.The truth is, even now, even after he's made it clear wherewe stand, I'm surprised Sam doesn't care.I get that he's angrywith me and that he's moving on and whatever.And as much as thethought of it stings, I still believed that he at least cared aboutme as a friend.
And as such, I'd havethought that maybe he'd have some feelings on the matter.And maybesay something.Or do something.But he hasn't.In fact, he wasn'teven in school today.According to Tuck, Sam came into the cityearly to look at the apartment he and his cousin, Thea, will besharing come August.
And it's good that he'slooking forward to the future.I want that for him.And I wantedhim carefree and happy, removed from this bullshit with Robin andmy father.He's already gotten into it with each of them.So Iguess it's good that he's over it.Over me.I wince at the painslicing through my chest at the thought, but it's a sensation I'vebecome accustomed to.It's what I signed up for, afterall.
I follow Lily to the barwhere we order two vodka-sodas.I start sipping mine in big gulps,wondering if, if I drink enough of it, it might dull some of thisperpetual ache gripping my chest.
And then I sense Sam.Italways happens.Like I've had a built-in radar for him from ourvery first meeting.My gaze inexorably slides his way and zeroes inon where he sits no more than ten feet away, in a corner booth,with Dave, Marshall, Andrew, and two hot girls.
And they really are hot.Notprettyreally.Certainly not beautiful.But they're sexy.Curvierthan I could ever be in every place guys like their women curvy,and dressed to show off those particular features, they're easilykeeping the attention of Dave, Marshall, and Sam.It seems likehe's engaged in conversation, though I can only see the back of hishead.And I'm grateful for that.Because I'm not sure I could bearthe sight of those midnight blues looking at either of those sexygirls with any level of interest.
A swell of grief washesover me.I hate feeling like this.Hate the idea of self-pity.Itseems so dramatic and allwoe isme.But Idofeel bad for myself.I feelbadperiod.
I slurp up the last of mydrink and order another.I glance back at the boys' table.Andysits on the aisle, his back to the group, making eyes at Tina, whostands around with Carl, Lily and me.
They are beingconsiderate.Because if everything was normal, we would all besitting together in the same booth, but because of me, my girlfriends aren't sitting with their boyfriends out ofsolidarity.
Sam and I have complicatedeverything.
But honestly, it doesn'teven help.The bar is small enough that I can still see him, canhear the louder parts of his conversation with those girls.And Ican hear in the slurry lilt of Sam's voice that he seems to haveresorted to the same crutch as I have in my vodka sodas.
One of the hot girlsgiggles uncontrollably at something Sam said that I couldn't makeout.It sends a swarm of red fire ants through my bloodstream.Thealcohol is making its way through me, but instead of dulling theedge, it's doing the opposite.
"Oh yeah?"Sam's low,slow, inebriated timbre reaches my searching ears.I detect hisflirtatious tone and it boils my blood, agitating the fire antseven more.
He knows I'mright here.He can't gofind some girl to pick up after I leave?
I'm surprised at his galland my breathing becomes fast and shallow in my growing anger.I amnot panicking and I am not afraid, but I'm not exactly in controlof myself either.
That slurping sound returnsand I realize my glass is once again empty.The bartender isalready serving me another before I can even ask for it.He shootsme an amused smile and I blink at him for a moment.Is my seethingthat obvious?
"You might wanna slowdown," bartender says, "whoever pissed you off, you're not gonnaget revenge by drinking yourself sick."
Lily, the only one not tooengrossed in their own conversation or distant flirting with theirboyfriend to have even noticed the bartender's observation, startslaughing.I glance at her and recognize the distinct signs of herflirtatious interest.She bats her eyelashes then flips her hair.Ilook back at the bartender.
He's good looking.Ihadn't even noticed that he's good looking.I was too caught up inSam and what he's doing.
"I can handle it," I replywith far more confidence than I actually feel.I hope I'm right.But I haven't taken a pill, so even if I get a little more drunkthan I should, I doubt I'll get sick.
