Loves Me Not

FORTY NINE

BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

I've never been a big believer in celebrating holidays. The whole concept is just ridiculous to me, as are most things in this life.

When it comes down to it, most people don't even know why they celebrate holidays. They only do it because it's what they're accustomed to. Their families grew up celebrating Christmas – putting up a tree, getting presents – so that is what they continue to do with their own families when they grow up. It's called tradition. I hate tradition. Why? Because it's not original. Not when it comes to holidays, at least. Most people aren't even religious. They don't go to church or pray. They celebrate Christmas and don't even understand the reasoning behind it. If you don't believe in Jesus, why is he hanging in your hallway?

Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter... they were all the same to me. Just a bunch of mindless holidays that were celebrated for the wrong reasons. I used to love Christmas, but I hated what it had had become. It wasn't about religion or spending time with loved-ones – it had become strictly about consumerism, making wish-lists and demanding things that you want; determining how much you mean to someone based on how much money they spend on you. It seemed greedy and materialistic to me.

Easter was only a few short weeks away and I didn't know how to ask Ben if we could not make a big deal out of it.

Ben grew up in a religious household. His parents went to church on Sunday's and said grace at every meal. I found the concept bizarre, considering I'd never been one for religion. I'm not an atheist, but I'm not a Christian either. Call me agnostic, I guess. I believe that there's some sort of higher power out there. We have to believe in something, otherwise you'll just end up depressed and hopeless. Hope is a good thing. It keeps us on our toes and gives us something to hold close to our hearts.

So, Easter. I broached the topic gently, but also tried to remain adamant in my ways. We had already gone through this once before with both Thanksgiving and Christmas. When I first brought it up last Thanksgiving, Ben laughed at me, told me I was crazy. When Christmas time came around, he told me not to bother bringing up excuses as to why I didn't want to celebrate with his parents on the twenty-fifth. But Easter was different. It wasn't that big of a deal. Or so I thought.

I brought it up, and Ben refused. He got angry with me for even suggesting such a thing. "Why are you so anti-holiday? It's depressing."
"You don't even let me explain myself! If you'd let me explain and actually listen to me for once, perhaps you'd understand where I was coming from."
"I do listen to you, Catalaina. You think holidays are trivial and mindless and you don't want to be mainstream and conform to societal standards. I get it. I've heard it all before."
"You're invalidating my feelings! You're making me seem like some melodramatic slum who's throwing a temper tantrum because she isn't getting her way."
"Well that's what you're doing, isn't it? Throwing a tantrum? As usual, whenever Catalaina doesn't get what she wants. When everything isn't perfect like how Catalaina needs."
"Fuck you."

I stormed out of the house and didn't speak to him for the rest of night. Instead, I went to the only other person I could think of at this point who would be there for me, no questions asked.

Dominic's place had become my safe haven, my escape. We talked for a while. I blew off some steam and got the anger out of my system. He listened as I spoke and told me that my reasoning behind not wanting to celebrate holidays were fair and justified.

A little while later, he stood at the kitchen counter, putting leftovers from his dinner into Tupperware containers. I sat on the couch, drinking from a glass of wine, staring out the window. I heard his phone go off but didn't pay much attention to it. Not until he came into the living room suddenly and told me that he needed to go out and do something.

He insinuated that I should go home, but I was curious to know what he was doing that required his attention so abruptly. When he told me that it was safer if I didn't know, it only peaked my interest more. I asked if I could come with him.

He was hesitant at first. "Why do you want to come?"
"Because," I said, matter-of-fact. "Whatever it is that you're up to, I want to be a part of it."
"You don't even know what I'm doing."
"But it sounds dangerous."
"You attracted to danger?"
"I guess you could say that."

So he brought me with him.

I knew that Dominic was a recreational drug user. I guess I discovered that the first night I met him, when he casually had a bag of blow sitting in his apartment. When I had asked him about it, he said that he only did it occasionally. I personally had never tried a drug in my life. Not even in university when my friends would pass around a joint at a party. Or when everyone in my dorm tried ecstasy for the first time. I even declined an offer to do shrooms with Will and Holden one night. Sure, I had had plenty of opportunities to experiment with drugs, I just chose not to. I had no desire to. The idea of drugs didn't appeal to me, mostly because I needed to be in complete control of my mind and my environment, and if I was on drugs, I couldn't guarantee that. The second reason was fear. Who knows what you're capable of when on drugs?

We left Dominic's place and drove to a desolate area in the middle of the city. He told me the less I knew, the better. I gathered my own conclusions in my head: We were going to a drug deal. Who was buying and who was dealing, I wasn't sure, but the thought alone was enticing.

Dominic parked and told me to stay in the car. I watched from the passenger seat as he got out of his car and into the car that was parked a few feet away from us. I looked up and surveyed the area. All industrial buildings nearby, no surveillance cameras that I could see. I focused my attention back on the car that contained Dominic.

He stayed in there for only a few short minutes, then returned once again to me, closing the door once he got inside. I saw him folding a thick wad of cash into his pocket before he tucked it away and looked up and met my eyes.

"You didn't see that," he said.
"How much was that?" I gaped.
"Don't worry about it." He buckled his seatbelt and started the engine.
"Dom, what was that? What did you sell him?"
He was quiet as he reversed the car and backed out of the lot. I watched him with focused eyes, awaiting a response. Finally, he said, "Coke."
I was quiet. "Why?" I asked.
"Why do I sell?"
"Yes."
He shrugged. "Same reason anybody sells. To make money."
"So it's that straight-forward then, is it?"
"What other reason could there be?"
"I don't know. So you're doing this strictly from a business standpoint?"
"Sure."
"An entrepreneur of sorts."
"If you want to call it that, then sure."
"Electrician by day," I said. "Drug dealer by night."
He gave me a look. I laughed.
"Don't get used to this," he said. "You're never coming to one of these again."
"Why!?"
"What's the matter with you?" he laughed and looked at me again. "You think this is fun? That this is some form of entertainment?"
"No."
"Because it's not. This is business, and it's not safe. I shouldn't have even brought you tonight."
"Oh, come on," I said to him. "What's the worst that could happen?"