The Luxury of not Knowing.A Story by The Morbid The Merrier
"Tory...Bartholomew and I slept together." I stayed silent. She asked: "You're not angry, right?" "Of course I'm not. Why would I be angry at you for something that you never did, never happened?"
"Hey, Tory, whatcha doin' today after school?" my friend, Clara, inquired.
"Eh, not much. Why?" I wasn't too interested in going out, and I really needed to finish this essay on Sigmund Freud's psychosexual theories for Psychology AP.
"Well, I dunno. I felt like going out. Wanna come?"
"Meh," I answered lamely.
"Ple~ease? C'mon, I know you don't like going to the mall on Fridays, but it'll be worth the while!"
I arched my eyebrow in a questioning and inquiring way.
"It's my treat~!"
I sighed. Of course. She just had to keep pushing it, didn't she? Well, I wasn't about going to let the opportunity pass. I mean, she did have enough money for it anyways.
I shruged. "Okay."
She squealed and clapped in joy and I rolled my eyes.
"Today, I'm going to spoil you filthy!"
I shrugged again, going back to my book. Her mood lessened, obviously from my lack of enthusiasm and reply.
School ended rather quickly and next thing you know, I have a bouncing and squealing Clara, dragging me to her car.
We got in the car, buckled up and sped off the school's parking lot. I watched the greenery and trees as we passed by them. Soon, the green forest and trees started to lessen and I found out that we were already in the city.
Parking was hazardous, but we managed to find one close by. As soon as we got out of the car, Clara had already started dragging me to all of my favorite stores, and even though I initially didn't want to come, excitement starting bubbling up in my chest and I began to ran with her.
I laughed a hearty, loud laugh at the silly joke Clara had just finished saying when we noticed that many people were staring at us. That made us laugh even harder, and when the laughter died down, I asked her, "I don't get it. What's with the sudden showering of gifts and stupid jokes?"
She opened her mouth when my cell phone interrupted her. I held up my hand in a "stop" motion and mouthed: "One second," and answered. I saw the person's name and I smiled. My boyfriend, Bartholomew, had just sent me a text message saying that he freaked out at his concert, threw up from all of the nerves then told me that he missed me.
I silently laughed when I noticed her glares.
"I just don't understand how someone like you can have a boyfriend," she said in a hateful and angry tone. I felt a little stab at my chest and I stopped smiling. I looked over at her and noticed her face softened and fell, then she started to fidget.
She had also stopped eating her ice-cream. Clara loved ice-cream more than she loved her own mother, so that worried me.
"Clara? What's wrong? Why'da stop eating your ice-cream?"
She continued to fidget until her shoulders slumped and said in a worried and cautious tone, "Tory...I have something to tell you."
Oh God. Last time she had told me those words, she had believed herself to be pregnant.
"What?! You're not pregnant or sumthin', right?!"
"What! No! God," she scoffed. Then her face softened again, then I saw something in her eyes. It was pity and guilt.
"I---," she paused, then opened her mouth again, but hesitated.
"What is it, Clara?"
"Tory...Bartholomew and I slept together."
I stayed silent. What? My Bartholomew? My Bart? Naw. I felt laughter bubbling in my throat, dying to come out.
"It was a total accident, I didn't mean it, and we were totally wasted--"
Oh, God. This seemed like a bad sitcom. How could this have happened?
"It was at Janie's party last week, ya know? The one you didn't go to? Well--"
This didn't happen at all. She's lying. It's either that or a really bad joke. That had to definitely be it. That had to be.
"And at the end, when we woke up we felt, like, totally guilty. Plus he was like--"
I felt like I've noticed this feeling before. Like I've seen it somewhere.
"We didn't talk to each other at all after that. I know that the last thing he wanted to do was--"
Damnit. What is it called? That thing, that emotion or state, where they refused to realize things. UGH!
"--hurt you. We just love you so much, you know that? We would NEVER hurt you--"
Ah, yes. Now I know what it's called.
There was silence and I find out that Clara had finally shut the hell up. i had begun to drift off into my own thoughts when Clara spoke again.
"Tory? Are you okay?"
"Hmm?" I answered, not really paying attention.
"You--you're not angry, right?" She asked me, scared.
"What? Of course I'm not. Why would I be angry at you for something that you never did, something that never happened?" I replied, turning to look at her. Her face was etched confusion and worry.
(It's called denial.)
© 2010 The Morbid The Merrier
The Morbid The Merrier
San Juan, Puerto Rico
AboutOBITUARY OF SUE, DEDICATED AUTHOR, FELLOW GAIAN AND JUST ABOUT NOTHING ELSE Sue passed away at 3:11 am today. Sue was born January 16, sometime during the 1700-1900. When she was born, she kic.. more..
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