The interruption, though, didn’t irritate me. It surprised me. I was amused. My mood was lifted, and for those moments, holding her close to me while she asked me not to let her go, I forgot exactly why I couldn’t sleep, why I was depressed. It felt good,shefelt good, and I felt the instant regret of not wrapping my arms around her while she slept, of not tapping from that peace that seemed to make her body sink into the bed in sleep.
I wanted to. I really did. But I also didn’t want to overstep my boundaries; she’d once said she was opposed to… cuddling.
And before I took a dive for the worse, I had been thinking of ways to change that opposition, to make the idea more acceptable to her.
Asking her to be in a relationship became the best solution. But seeing the way that question had brought forth a negative response, how uncomfortable she had been with the mere thought of committing to me—I felt angry—wanted to tell her she had no choice because she made me fall for her, she made me question everything I wanted for myself; the least she could do was indulge me, and not dismiss me.
But then, I saw how she fought for words, how her eyes had shined in discomfort and horror like being with me that way was as atrocious as signing a death sentence. I realized I had been too forward. I didn’t think it through; of course she wouldn’t want that.
Who in their right mind would want that?
After she left, I continued my drinking and put on some music again—I turned it off an hour later when my head started to pound—and I stopped drinking soon after when my stomach started to reject it. I felt the alcohol trying to come back out of my throat, and suddenly the room became too cold.
I turned off the air conditioner, turned on the heater, and then realized I didn’t reasonably need the heat because my skin began to burn.
I was hot, cold, and uncomfortable.
The pounding in my head was worse than before.
I felt like I could sleep now, but I couldn’t help the discomfort I felt; despite having changed the temperature in the room to something bearable, I was still so cold.
I decided to have another warm shower—after I did, I opted to find something heavy to ward off the cold—a thick black hoodie with thick sweatpants.
I dried my hair thoroughly because the wet strands irritated my eyes and neck, a clear sign that it was due for another cut.
My mind drew a blank when I tried to remember the last time I had cut it.
After I was all done, I settled on the bed, but with a tiny sniff of the pillow, my mind took me back to last night—to Zahra, who had rejected me and was now thinking about it so she could twist the knife further in by rejecting me again.
I pressed my nose into the pillow and breathed in like the creep she once referred to me as.
I lay there for a few minutes and then grew uncomfortable with the view of the vast ocean; the pillow became as hot as my skin.
I sat up with a groan, my hand falling to my side to keep me steady upon the sudden lightness in my head.
I grabbed the pillow, left the bed, walked to the dresser, pulled it open, picked up my phone, and turned it on as I walked out of the bedroom to the living room.
I settled the pillow on one of the long couches and lay there instead, pressing a remote to reduce the room’s lighting.
My body felt too heavy to carry when I tried to move.
I needed medicine, something to dull the headache. I couldn’t administer it myself.
Bringing the phone to my view, I squinted with a wince at the light, and I quickly moved to reduce the brightness before going to my contacts list.
Five names.
I clicked on Angelo’s name, which immediately went to voicemail. Unavailable to answer the phone. I tried again… and again… same result.
My throat grew too dry, and my head ached. My breathing was getting loud, my breath as hot as my skin.
I clicked on Casmiro’s name next, but it immediately saidunavailable. There was no point in trying it again becausehe wasn’t here to provide immediate aid—but then again, he could help alert someone nearby—I tried calling again. Unavailable.
I closed my eyes with a tired groan before reopening them. My gaze fell on Zahra’s name… I contemplated it… thoroughly. She’d left here a couple of hours ago… She was on the cruise. She was close, and I wanted her here. Although she’d taken away my first chance to relax, I did not want her to leave.
I clicked on her contact, and it was silent for a few seconds before an automated voice came on.“Sorry, you are not allowed to call this number.”
The line cut immediately. I frowned at the phone, redialing it. The same automated voice came on, repeating the same sentence.
