I’m at the end of my rope. I’ve texted him plenty of times, stalked him on Facebook, and when I do get a hold of him he tells me he’s been really busy (won’t say with what!) and that he’ll let me know when he’s free. Doesn’t explain why he pretends not to see me when I’m staring him right in his face.
I really thought that we were moving forward. After our stunt in the community pool (which I am deeply disappointed that no one has been gossiping about), we were back to hanging out almost every day. And more sex. I mean, it’s not been exactly the same as it was before, there’s this strange sense of detachment and he won’t look me in the eyes, but I’m just so glad he’s still with me, that we’re still a couple. I really thought for a while that he was going to break up with me and I couldn’t imagine anything worse happening. My whole world would split in two and I would be torn apart.
But I’ve been giving him space. It’s what Cosmo says to do. Girls are clingy, women know when to let the man do the work. I want to be a woman here, not some teenage girl in love. I want to give him all the space he needs, do all the things right. Be perfect. I can do that, right?
I slowly get up from the floor and flush the toilet before I can get another glimpse of my vomit and have it happen all over again. I quickly rinse out my mouth and brush my teeth until the acidic taste is gone and then splash cold water all over my face.
Thankfully it’s Saturday and I don’t have anywhere to go. Everly is out of town with her family, and with Anders pretending I don’t exist, I only have myself for company.
Actually, that’s not true. There’s Hannah, but I won’t see much of her. She already told me she’s studying all weekend. Which is something I guess I should do, considering I have a science final coming up, but I feel too sick to concentrate on schoolwork right now.
I lie down on my bed, fetal position, trying to breathe in and out, hoping the nausea will pass. Last night we had Chinese food, but I got what I always get, and don’t you usually get sick right away if it’s food poisoning? This morning I had cereal, but again, nothing unusual.
While I’m trying to ponder my food choices as of late, I feel another hit of nausea roll through me. I run to the bathroom again, making it just in time.
When there’s nothing left to cough up, I flush the toilet just as my bedroom door swings open and Hannah stares at me, eyes wide.
“Shay, are you sick?”
I can barely find the energy to nod. “Obviously.”
I try to get to my feet and she’s there, pulling me up under my arms. She’s never been too affectionate with me, but she grabs my shoulders and peers at me closely. Well, not too close. I probably stink.
“What did you eat?” she asks, flipping down the toilet seat and making me sit on it. Then she goes to the sink and washes her hands with a ton of soap, for at least half a minute. “Break it down, everything.”
“Last night I had the beef and broccoli and spring rolls. This morning I had Lucky Charms and milk.”
“Was the milk expired?”
I give her the dirtiest look I can muster. “Do I look like I’d drink expired milk?”
She folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall, staring at me like she’s trying to read my mind. That’s the way it is with Hannah, she either looks at you with indifference or you’re some impossible math challenge. There is nothing in between.
“What about your period? When was your last period?”
My cheeks flush. I do not talk to Hannah about stuff like this.
“I’m still waiting for it,” I say, staring down at the chipped pink polish on my fingernails. I had only done them yesterday, but I got the polish at a dollar store, so what did I expect?
When she makes a choking sound, I look up at her.
“What?”
“You’re waiting for it? You mean you missed it?”
I shake my head. “I mean it’ll show up. It’s just late. I didn’t miss it.”
“Oh my lord,” she says, her mouth setting in a firm line that reminds me of our mother when she gets mad. “When was the last time you had sex?”
My cheeks go even more red, and while I’m embarrassed about this conversation, fear is starting to take over the embarrassment, making my skin feel extra clammy. “Who said I was having sex?”
Hannah narrows her eyes. “Shay! I’m not an idiot. I live in this house, too.”
“Wouldn’t know it, you’re never home,” I say as a jab. Then I quickly look away before she can spear me with her gaze again.
“When was the last time, Shay? I haven’t seen Anders over here in a while…”
Way to remind me. I try and think. “I don’t know. Maybe two weeks ago.”
“And before that?”
I shrug. “It was often.” Except when it wasn’t.
“Are you on the pill?”
I shake my head, feeling ashamed, like a child. “No. I…I didn’t know how to get on that. But we were using condoms!”
Except…
My face falls.
The swimming pool.
“What?” Hannah asks.
I try to swallow, to speak, but it’s hard. “But once. We didn’t. A month ago…”
Then it all comes up.
Tears, this time.
I burst out crying, face buried in my hands, trying to keep it all together and failing.
This is the moment when I realize how alone I am.
And how fucked I am.
I cry for a few minutes, Hannah rubbing
