Loves Me Not

THIRTY NINE

BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

I found that Scarlett and I had a lot in common, and at the same time, had nothing in common at all. Our personalities were complete opposites, yet we somehow got along perfectly. We found common ground between us, things that we both enjoyed, subject matter we both agreed on. Finding these things was a rarity, but when we did find them, we held on tight. A bond that kept us close.

Scarlett was turning twenty-six later this year. I was turning twenty-seven in June. She had a photographic memory and worked for a tech company, working way below her potential if you ask me. She was brilliant. She knew almost everything there was to know. You could ask her a question, no matter the topic, and she'd have an answer. I loved quizzing her, simply thinking of arbitrary questions off the top of my head. She found my amusement amusing.

The other thing I soon learned about Scarlett was that she loved to party. She drank more alcohol than any person I knew and never got hangovers, which I thought was virtually impossible, until one night when I stayed over at her place after going out and discovered that she wasn't lying. The girl could drink two bottles of wine and finish off a small bottle of vodka and wake up ready to cook a three-course meal and run a marathon. Astonishing.

In the budding stages of our friendship, Scarlett and I didn't really talk about anything that mattered. We'd simply share stories and talk about drama, something I'd soon learn that she loved. I guess that was one of the things we had in common.

Mundane conversations about unimportant matters only lasted so long though. As we became closer, our conversations progressed to more in-depth discussions. One day she opened up to me and told me about her life, her childhood, her family. Her hopes and dreams, her fears, the reason why she is the way she is. I gained a new sense of respect for her after that. And I guess in turn, I began sharing more with her as well. That's how she found out about my overwhelming unhappiness in life. About my mediocre career and my stagnant relationship. I began talking to her about Ben – a lot. I'd get drunk and spill my deepest secrets. I'd share all of my internal thoughts that I never thought would see the light of day. And the strangest part was, she understood me. She didn't question my motives or ask why I did the things that I did. She just accepted me for who I was.

I think it might have been due to the fact that she was just as fucked up and confused in life as I was.

Scarlett's parents got divorced when she was seven. Her mother remarried a wealthy man who had more money than she had ever known. When she was thirteen, he began sexually abusing her. When she told her mother, Scarlett was called a liar.

Scarlett moved out when she was eighteen. She didn't have a job or money, but she somehow managed to get by. She eventually began bartending and saving up enough money to go to school. Her photographic memory allowed her to get a scholarship when the money wasn't enough.

Scarlett has two sisters. She doesn't speak to either of them. They all hate each other and blame one another for unresolved issues that occurred in the past.

Scarlett is alone. Truly. She doesn't speak to her mother. Her father died two years ago – a sudden unexplainable aneurysm in the middle of the night. Her sisters hate her. She doesn't have a boyfriend, and has little to no friends.

Looking at Scarlett's life, I pitied her. My parents were still together. My brother and I were close. Sure, I didn't have many friends either, but at least I had Ben. She had nobody. And I guess that's why she clung to me the way she did. Because I was something to have in her life. And for me? Well, she was exactly what I needed as well: An escape.