Feelings

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23 July 1999

Feelings V

V. Three's a crowd.

I staggered blindly towards my car, ignoring Jason's calls, which drifted from inside the house. I fumbled with my keys, unsuccessfully trying to unlock the door.

"I'm just a stranger? Too bad. I thought I was your friend," Tommy whispered in my mind.

"Shut the fuck up," I mumbled pitifully, with jagged breath.

I finally managed to unlock the door, and I opened it quickly. I could see Jason running out of the house, screaming at me. The sound of his voice sounded distorted though, like a tape played in a stereo with old batteries; he was still wearing his underwear, despite the cold. His words turned foggy as they hit the biting air.

I slipped the key into the ignition and revved the engine violently. I backed out of my parking space just as Jason reached the car; he thumped the window, but I ignored him, and stared straight ahead. Within seconds, I'd sped away from that place, never looking through my rearview mirror; I feared I'd find Tommy's blue eyes staring back at me.

Light was already dusting the horizon as I drove home, feeling dizzy as the road meandered up the steep hill. The sea was dead calm, glittering as rays of light bounced off the soft waves. I had been driving aimlessly for hours, thinking about nothing, until I had realized it was morning. Not that there was anyone waiting for me to check in at home.

I parked the car around the back of the house, then got out. I stared at the ocean for a moment, trying to lose myself in its never-ending calmness; it was useless. I knew that night would haunt me for as long as I lived.

The moon was starting to fade, slowly burning away to daylight. The horizon above the sea continued in darkness, but the early-morning fog hovering above the waves created impressionist patterns in the sky.

I closed my eyes slightly. Go away, just... let me be.

I sighed, and decided to go down to the beach.

The sea glimmered as the newborn rays of sunlight struck the waves, and I was reminded of a story that my dad had told me one morning. We used to come to this beach every evening, for a bit of "man-talk", as he explained to my mom. Mostly, though, he'd make up silly stories that I invariably loved; the one that came to mind was my particular favorite, although he'd only told it to me once, the last time we came here together (the last day of elementary school, before I became "too old" for his tales).

Dad had claimed that every morning, when the sun rose, the rays of light reflected on small droplets of gold, giving new life to the ocean.

"Yep... The ocean is love, shrimp," he'd said, smiling at my dumbstruck expression. "And I'll always love you."

"More than the ocean?" I'd asked innocently; his eyes had clouded up a bit, disturbing me.

"Yes, champ. More than the ocean." And then he had hugged me tightly. "Don't ever be afraid to love," he had whispered in my ear.

Shit.

I sensed it coming before it actually happened. My breath picked up quickly until I could no longer inhale, a painful sensation building up somewhere in my chest, increasing steadily, bashing my whole being until it became a boiling torrent of burning emotions that wracked every single aspect of my existence, physical and mental. The fragile layer of restraint I had frantically protected for what seemed like ages shattered in the blink of an eye, giving way to the most unimaginable pain anyone could conceive.

I writhed, trying to control the barrage of agony my existence caused. Moaning, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore it. I couldn't. The buildup became unsustainable and, with a deep gulp, I finally let go, feeling the pain consume me, invading my mind and my body as images of the past and present, and maybe future, flashed inside my head. With a silent sob I allowed the tears to flow freely, scalding my cheeks as they dripped over my chin and down my choking neck. The plug was lifted, and I sobbed violently and shamelessly, wanting to forget everything in that instant, feeling my shoulders shake uncontrollably. For a few moments, this feeling seemed to be here to stay, but it eventually diminished.

"Fuck," I managed to whimper, gasping for breath as the hurt subsided a bit. Then louder, then even louder until I had scrambled to my feet and began screaming at the sea, cursing my very existence.

My throat was sore when I finally shut up. I gulped one last time before collapsing on to the sand, completely spent.

I don't know much time passed as I lay there, unable to move or think. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. My mind was completely blank, and I was thankful I could find solace in this void. The beach could have been on fire, and I wouldn't have noticed.

How could this pain sprout from love? Allegedly the most wonderful thing on earth, the reason of existence of so many people, was completely oblivious to my suffering. Here it is, boys and girls (and everything in between and beyond): love. What a pile of shit. I just wanted to bury my head in the sand.

I didn't react to the fingers suddenly caressing the back of my arms, making their way to my neck, finally twirling strands of my hair.

"Jeremy... fuck." Jason's whispered. His voice was not really there, even though he was kneeling down next to me. I said nothing.

Jason finally pressed his hands on my shoulder, shaking me softly. I stared straight ahead.

"I've been looking for you all night. What happened, J?" he asked gently. "Jeremy?"

Shaken out of my private burrow, I finally raised my head. However, I was unable to speak. Jason looked at me, and his eyes filled with worry, maybe even fear. I opened my mouth but no words came out; I could feel trails of dried sand where tears had been a while ago. I was sure it was a pathetic sight.

It seemed as though a thick cloud had entered my mind, and I couldn't shake it away. As much as I wanted to talk to Jason, I was unable to articulate any sound whatsoever. I winced, feeling the lines of sand crumble softly as my facial muscles contracted.

"It's just that... party... and.... " I rasped, choking up again.

"Shhh, it's okay," Jason said, sitting down next to me and pulling me to his arms. He hugged me awkwardly, stroking my hair with the love he only had for me. I closed my eyes, finally feeling a bit better. He started to release me, but I clung to him with all the strength I could muster. He understood and shifted position. He lay half of his body on me, intertwining his legs with mine, pressing his right cheek on my own.

"Love you," he whispered. I said nothing, but raised my head a little and pecked his lips softly.

"You're my best friend," I said simply. He smiled and hugged me again. We fell asleep in each other's arms, completely drained.

The sun was setting when I finally stirred. I’d somehow made it to my bed, and I briefly wondered if it all had been an awful dream. The sand on my pillow and my sore cheeks shook that illusion away. Jason was nowhere to be seen, however. He’d probably carried me to my room and left.

I crawled out of bed and fixed myself a couple of sandwiches, which I gobbled ravenously while watching Saturday Night Live.

After dinner I considered taking a bottle of Johnny Walker up to the widow's walk and drown my pain there; but finally decided not to. I wasn't in the mood for another melodramatic situation; plus, even though I'd slept the day away, I was still feeling very tired. So I dragged myself into bed and closed my eyes, forcing Tommy out of my mind as best I could.

Thank god for Sundays. After seemingly ages of tossing and turning in bed, I had finally managed to fall asleep. Surprisingly, no dreams came with my pained rest, and I slept the night away, like a soldier who's too tired to dream of recent battles.

A numb, oppressive pain took over me as I finally floated back to consciousness; the awakening part of me knew what reality held, and desperately tried to dive back into the comfort of slumber. Tommy's blue eyes floated in my mind, and that was all I needed to fully wake up.

I opened my eyes to early morning light; the only sound I could hear was the rush of the waves below. I lay still for a few minutes, not really thinking, but feeling. Feeling the most intense pain I'd ever experienced, a crushing hurt that burnt like fire. After the death of my parents, I though nothing could get me: could there be greater pain than that? But seeing my one love with a girl had opened wounds that hadn't healed properly. My grief was so intense that I could not breath without wincing; it chewed my insides mercilessly. No tears came, however. I was beyond those.

After a long while, I finally mustered the strength to leave my bed. I padded to my bathroom and took a long pee, avoiding the mirror, as I was sure the sight it held was not nice

"Something's gotta give," I muttered, "and it sure as hell won't be me."

Feeling slightly more human after a shower, I went downstairs to prepare lunch. It seemed as though I hadn't eaten in days, and my stomach growled to prove it. I tried to keep my mind blank as I cut vegetables for a salad, but I was soon chopping away violently. It was no use.

I carried my hamburgers and salad to the back porch, where I munched away slowly, feeling very sorry for myself as images of Tommy drifted into my mind. There was no Kim in those images, no party, just him... And love, I guess.

After cleaning up, I filled a glass with Jack Daniels and made my way to the widow's walk. I stared over the railing, watching the waves crash against the rocks far below. A few times, I turned around, half hoping to see Tommy sitting in the corner where he'd been a few nights before. He wasn't there, however, and I was left with a painfully empty feeling in my stomach as my heart screamed for him. Just... love me. He never will, though, I realized. Not now, not ever.

I sighed and headed back to bed, as emotional exhaustion seeped into my body once again.

Sunday afternoon flashed past me as I slept away, barely leaving my bed. I wafted in and out of consciousness aimlessly, confusing dreams with reality. Many times the nightmares turned out to be real, and in those times I just slipped deeper into the blankets and closed my eyes. My pain was almost palpable but, above all, I just felt regret. Maybe if I'd been more open and friendly, Tommy would have been my friend. I just needed his friendship, his arms around me as he whispered everything would be okay. Nothing had been okay for a long time.

That evening, I went outside, needing some fresh air. I'd been cooped indoors for the past two days, and I was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic.

My feet felt as if they were made out of stone, and I had to make a tremendous effort to move. All feeling had left my soul; there were no tears, no sorrows, no hope. I was completely empty. Everyone had left me: no one gave a shit about this pathetic lump of (barely) breathing flesh. I just wanted out.

Suddenly, something stopped me as I was about to enter my home. I could not place it into thoughts, it was simply a situation, like deja-vu. I had *been * here before.

"Mom?" I whispered softly, surprising myself.

No one answered, and I immediately chided my stupidity. What the hell was I thinking?

But then, there it was again. That feeling.

Trembling slightly, I allowed it to guide me. I made my way down the garden, past the neglected flowerbeds and the pool, towards a big tree at the back of the grounds. I felt compelled to walk, drawn by something deep inside of me.

The trunk was as thick as my fear, giving away the tree's almost timeless existence. I wondered how long it had stood there, staring at the ocean, watching as people came and went, through countless seasons, years and decades. The leaves still coated most of the branches in a vivid splash of green, rustling softly as the warming breeze teased them. A small tree house hid among the confusion of branches and leaves.

Something caught my eye. It was a carving on the wood:

A + P, inside a heart. Alice and Paul. My parents. The letters looked rugged and slightly faded, but could still be made out. Beneath them was another, fresher set of letters: C & J. Chloe and Jeremy. A bigger heart surrounded all four letters.

I had forgotten about them, but at that moment their meaning came back to me in full force.

My parents had supposedly carved their initials on the tree the night my dad proposed to my mom. They were barely older than me at that time, when they had sworn they would belong to each other for the rest of their lives; destiny had been generous with them, proving their vow right (as far as I knew, anyway).

My sister's initial had been added when she was ten (when she was a sweet obedient kid, not the pain in the ass she later was), and I had carved my own later, at eleven. It had seemed stupid at the time, but my parents had gotten all worked up about the little ceremony, as if their whole existence depended upon it.

"One happy family," my dad had beamed as I carved a crooked "J" on the bark; my mom, who'd sniffled discreetly as I carved (hay-fever, she claimed), had then hugged me tightly.

Pain smoldered inside of me as I ran my fingers over the coarse symbols. What had drawn me here?

I sighed and looked up; it had been years since I'd last climbed to the tree house, and I figured I might as well complete my trip down memory lane. I walked around the trunk, finally spotting the footholds cut into the bark. I hesitated before raising my foot to the first one, climbing up to the house.

It was an awful sight. Once this house had been my favorite place on earth, the spot where I spent most of my afternoons playing. My dad had built it for me, and it had looked nothing short of a small palace. After years of indifferent abandonment it was now no better than a dog kennel; I didn't care though. I felt like a kid again, I could almost hear my sister's laughter drifting out of the glass-less windows.

I climbed inside carefully, wondering if the damn thing would hold. It did.

I was surprised to find a few little presents inside. There was a basketball, a couple of small toys, among other stuff. I remembered my dad's frustration when he discovered I couldn't manage to dribble the ball without landing on my face, never mind actually getting it into a net. I smiled as I recognized a large, tattered stuffed bear; I'd seen it for the last time almost eight years ago. And the ninja turtles! I almost laughed out loud as I remembered playing with Jason; I'd always chosen the one with the blue ribbon, despite Jason's protests (HE always wanted that one, but I always got it).

I sighed. My childhood had been great.

I took the teddy bear in my arms (thank god no one saw me) and lay down; I was asleep within minutes, feeling peace at last. I'm sure my parents, wherever they were, had smiles on their faces.

I somehow dragged myself to school on Monday. Even though I felt very sad, I needed to get away from my house after the shitty weekend I'd had. My strength had left me however, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it through the day, never mind the rest of the school year.

I had finally promised to myself that I would stay away from Tommy, I'd push him away from me at all costs. I knew I couldn't realistically expect myself to actually do it, but at least I'd try. It was simply a matter of self-preservation.

Luck would have it that Kim was the first person I bumped into in the parking lot. She also looked like shit, but I felt no guilt over it. I felt nothing, period. No joy, no sadness, no hope... nothing at all.

"Jeremy, hi," she muttered, looking at the floor.

"Hi Kim," I croaked back. After a second of silence, we turned and walked to the main gates together.

"Jeremy, I just wanted to...." she started. I looked at her tiredly. I didn't need this now.

"I was really drunk the other night so..." she tried again. "Sometimes feelings are just too hard to control. I know I acted like an idiot, but I think you know me well enough. I like to think you're not going to judge me for my behavior, even though I probably would deserve that." She waited for me to reassure her, but I said nothing at that moment. Yes, I was going to forgive her (technically, she'd done nothing wrong), but I doubted we'd ever be good friends again.

I knew I couldn't blame her for loving Tommy. I'd committed the same sin. And, quite obviously, I would have done the exact same thing in her place.

But still, I knew I'd never be able to look at her with the same eyes again. My trust in her had disappeared, and I knew I was being unfair. She knew nothing of my feelings for Tommy. Kim had always been my friend. If anything, I was the one who didn't deserve her trust.

She sighed and said:

"I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry for what I did to you at the party. I know my being drunk is not an excuse, but that's not what I'm looking for. I... I just don't know what to say. I shouldn't have tried to seduce you, but it's no secret I've always had strong feelings for you. You're such a beautiful person, the one person who truly understands me and gives a shit. And, even though I've always known you don't feel the same way, I though maybe I could try to... Damn, I'm just so fucking lonely." My eyes clouded over.

Kim's own self-rejection hurt me to the bone, as she thought she wasn't good enough for me. If only she knew what a pile of dung her best friend was. All I seemed to do was hurt people.

"I'm sorry I touched your..." She blushed and I looked away. "Well, you know where." Christ, this was mortifying.

She continued: "And I'm sorry I tried to get back at you by getting Tommy instead. But I was just hurt beyond myself. I simply couldn't handle the pain," she sobbed.

My heart froze right then. What had she said?? She didn't love Tommy, she'd just used him. I should have felt relieved, but my head was spinning.

"Jeremy?" she sniffled. "Are you all right?"

I looked at her

"Yeah, I am," was all I could say. I was trying very hard not to direct my anger at her. She wasn't the person to blame.

"Okay. I'm very sorry, the last thing I'd want to do is hurt you."

I sighed. She hadn't hurt me in the way she thought.

"I know luv. Yeah, apology accepted." I finally managed a weak smile. She beamed gratefully, and I felt a little better. We continued to walk, in silence.

Tommy himself pranced into view a few minutes later; he glanced at us, and was met by equally dirty looks. He turned and quickly walked away. I shrugged and Kim sighed.

"Cigarette?" I asked her.

"Please."

We lit up and plopped on a bench, blowing smoke in all directions. The principal spotted us, and we stared at him defiantly. Just as he began storming towards us, Mrs. Morgan, my English teacher (who allegedly was Steven Spielberg's main source of inspiration for his Jurassic dinos), intercepted him and began slobbering all over him. He managed to scurry away, undoubtedly with some lame excuse.

Kim giggled, and I managed a smile. Soon, we were practically holding on to each other, laughing hysterically. Other students stared at us in disbelief, some shaking their heads, which seemed even funnier.

After we finally managed to compose ourselves, I looked over at Kim with a smile: the bridge that had separated us crumbled suddenly, leaving no trace of its existence in my mind.

"Friends?" I proposed.

"You bet, buster," she smiled back. We hugged briefly.

"So..." she said slowly, pulling away. "I think you need to tell me something."

I looked at her in surprise, feeling the blood drain from my face.

"Hey guys," Jason called. Kim seemed angry at the intrusion, but I sighed in relief. Could she know about me?

"I'd better get going," Kim said shortly, stubbing her cigarette as Jason slapped my back. She looked at me and said "Three's a crowd."

"See you later," I answered nervously. She looked at me one more time before walking away, and I wondered what she'd really meant by her last comment.

I shook my head, turning to Jason.

"I think your little sis is up to something," I said pointedly.

He ignored my comment.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I answered, taking one last drag from my cig. Even though he'd been nice and supportive on Saturday, he was obviously expecting answers today.

"So... Care to explain me what happened on Friday?" he asked gently.

I avoided his eyes.

"I was just feeling kinda down is all. I'm cool now," I replied.

"Uh-huh. Seems to me you were more than "kinda down"" he commented.

I said nothing.

"Look, dude, can you tell me what your problem is?" he lost his patience.

"Problem? What are you talking about?" I asked feebly.

"You can't bullshit me man, I know something is wrong, and I think that Karen's cousin is involved. Care to explain?"

I felt like a trapped animal.

"Uh... I'm late for homeroom. I'll explain to you later, okay? Bye now," and with that, I ran off.

I slung my backpack impatiently, striding down the halls and ignoring everyone. Christ, can't people just leave me alone? I thought mournfully.

I marched into class and took my usual seat. Everyone around me seemed to be involved in a ridiculous debate about some dumb movie star, so I flipped my notebook open and started doodling. Before I knew it, I'd drawn T's all over the leaf, so I quickly covered it, knowing I was being stupid.

I stared out of the window, noticing how clear the sky looked, how brightly the sun shone. Some things never changed, but even those gave me no safety.

"Mr. Marks, are you with us this morning?" my much despised homeroom teacher asked. I jolted back to reality.

"Yeah I am," I answered, bored.

"Good. I was just wondering if you could tell me whose quotation I've cited on the blackboard," she said in a got-you-know voice.

I yawned and peered at the quotation:

"Of all the pains, the greatest pain is to love, but to love in vain."

"How convenient," I muttered to myself.

"What was that?" she inquired.

"Nothing...Hmm... I'd have to say..." I began, and then paused for effect.

"Waiting, Mr. Marks," the teacher prodded. I yawned again.

"Oh, I don't know... Abraham Crowley maybe?" I smiled luminously at her. Her arrogant face crumbled and she looked at me angrily. Got you, bitch, I thought triumphantly. Someone cheered.

"Very good, Mr. Marks. In the future, though, please try to pay attention when I'm lecturing."

"Will do, Ma'am. May I be excused now?" I didn't wait for an answer as I gathered my stuff and walked out the door.

The day still held a few surprises.

I was sitting at my usual table in the lunchroom, ignoring my fecal lunch and pretending to read a magazine. In reality, I was just on guard, looking at Tommy whenever I could; he sat nearby, alone. He'd noticed my presence but didn't approach me; apparently he'd figured out that I was pretty much pissed at him, even if he didn't know the reason. The tension between us was almost palpable.

I'd carefully avoided meeting his eyes, but I casually glanced in his direction once in a while. My resolve to ignore him was fading with every passing second, and I fought stubbornly to get a grip on my feelings. But then I'd look over and see him sitting there, all alone, and my heart broke. His beautiful eyes looked pained and rejected, and controlling the urge to run over to him and hug him took every last bit of my self control.

Then the fireworks started.

The crowd of students standing around the cafeteria suddenly parted like the Red Sea. The loud chattering progressively drew quiet as someone marched down the parted path.

Kim, who had an unbeatable reputation for her bad temper, was striding towards Tommy's table. And man, did *she * look pissed.

Uh-oh, I thought.

She stopped in front of Tommy's table and smiled her sweet smile, the one she saved for special occasions. Tommy, lost in space as usual, hadn't noticed Cleopatra's parade; he finally looked up at her in confusion, not aware that he was right in front of bubble-happy Krakatoa.

"Hey, lover boy," Kimmy crooned as soon as she had his full attention.

"Uhm... Hi.." he said uncertainly.

She smiled again and said:

"So how's Mr. Cutebuns today? Any hot juices for his princess?"

"Huh?" Tommy just stared at her.

"Oh, don't play innocent with me Big Boy. We both know you want it." And with that, she leaned towards him, apparently moving to kiss him.

Here comes, I thought, sensing her real intentions. I stood up quickly, moving to stop her. It was too late, however.

Kim's sweet smile suddenly collapsed into a look of pure anger. She roughly reached out and grabbed Tommy's collar, pulling his face towards hers, until they were inches apart.

"Do not toy with me honey. You will lose," she hissed. Tommy just stared at her, open-mouthed. She strengthened her grip.

"Am I making myself clear?" she growled.

"Ye-yeah," Tommy said. Wrong answer.

"Good," she said primly, letting go of him. Tommy dropped on his chair, looking confused beyond belief.

Kim suddenly turned and grabbed a plate of chocolate cake off some guy's hands. Without hesitating, she smashed it right on to Tommy face, making sure every last bit of his skin was covered in mousse. I stared at her in disbelief.

"Don't you ever fuck with me again, you bastard!" she screeched as she clawed at his body wildly, cursing. Tommy's arms flailed as he tried to push her away. Then she stopped screaming altogether and, turning on her heels, stalked away.

Wow.

Everyone sat in silence for a full minute. Then, slowly, a wave of whispers began spreading across the room, gradually rising in tempo until it was impossible to hear one's own voice.

Shit, shit, shit, I muttered. I'm gonna kill Kim.

I looked over at Tommy: he looked like the African version of Frosty the Snowman. I sighed and walked towards him, taking a bunch of paper napkins.

He was trying to wipe the chocolate off his face with his hands, but only managed to make a bigger mess out of it.

"Here," I said gently as I extended the napkins to him.

"Thanks," he muttered as he looked at me. He took them and began removing the chocolate from his face. The situation may have seemed funny to most people, but I felt very sad. Luckily, no one was laughing at him.

"You missed a spot," I said helpfully, "Want me to do it?" I added reluctantly. I know I was supposed to avoid him, but I couldn't help myself. My love needed a friend. Or so I thought.

"No, that's okay. Thanks anyway." With that, he stood up and half-glared at me.

"Okay, I was just offering," I said hotly.

"Yeah. Thank you." He walked away, taking the nearest exit.

God, what is it now? I thought dejectedly, watching him leave.

VI. Sprained.

Tbc.

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