May Kill Me

Twenty-Two

For the next week, I woke up every day expecting an onslaught of angry texts/emails/voice mails (or all of the above) from Jonathan. I've waited for an enraged declaration from him that I have lost it completely and I'll regret threatening him like that... But nothing happens. 

I keep checking my phone between classes and during breaks at work: there's nothing but radio silence. My only conclusion was that I must have struck a nerve, scared Jonathan enough that he finally backed off, and his monkey-boy. 

A part of me wants to march into Sullivan's office and rub my success in his smug face. 

See, I want to tell him, I did this on my own. You didn't want to help, coming up with all kinds of bullshit reasons as to why you couldn't help. So I had to take matters into my own hands. One text and photographic evidence was all it took! Thanks for nothing, Sheriff! 

Of course, I don't do that. 

When another week passes and I don't hear from Jonathan, I allow myself to fully relax. 

No more notes, or people trying to get into my apartment. 

Honestly, I should have done this sooner. 

The problem was, I didn't have as much evidence before. Technically, I don't have enough evidence this time either, but it works on Jonathan, which means that even with the little I have, I'm right. 

***

We ace our presentation, doing so well that Travis pulls me in for a hug at the end. The others exchange looks, and I feel weird and stiff in his pine-scented embrace. 

I also did okay on my finals.  

Travis invites me to a party at his place to celebrate the end of the semester, and I'm starting to wonder if this is what college life is really like: papers, finals, and parties. 

At first, I was reluctant to go, but then I started to think that I was going to miss out on the whole college experience if I just sat in my apartment reading or binding shows on Netflix when I could be interacting with people. 

Maybe that's what Jonathan wanted - to isolate me, scare me - and make me feel small and helpless. He couldn't get over me breaking up with him, so he opted to make my life as hellish as possible. 

I didn't bother checking his Instagram anymore. 

He was, in the words of Heidi Klum, OUT.

***  

I head out to Travis's place around 9 PM, with the plan of heading back home the next morning. 

I am more than ready to go home for winter break after a semester that resembled the plot of a daytime made-for-tv thriller. I miss my mom, I miss my room, and I miss not having to worry about things, at least for a few weeks.  

Andrea already left for the winter break, her family always spent Christmas at the Keys. Abigail called to wish me happy holidays and a happy new year. I had no idea what was going on with Krista - she didn't bother with the group chat anymore, and it felt weird to contact her outside of it. 

 ***

Travis's apartment was on Crabapple Road, and I could tell where he lived even from standing outside in my puffer jacket, hunched against the frigid mid-December wind. 

People were leaning out the windows with cigarettes glowing between their fingers, the light behind them bright. The buzz of energy was so strong, that it was palpable from where I was standing outside. 

It wasn't even ten yet, but it felt like the party was already in full swing. I'm not going to lie: it was odd to see so much life in New Glasgow at this time of day. It was a town that went into a collective hibernation after 6 PM. 

The door to the apartment building was propped open with a brick, and the apartment door was unlocked. 

I was immediately hit by hot air, body odor, and the mixture of cigarette smoke and beer. the place was crowded with people I didn't know and hadn't seen before. 

The heat got to me straight away, especially after I climbed three floors, forcing me to shrug off my jacket. 

"You made it!" Travis - seemingly appearing out of nowhere with a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon -  called out. 

He pulled me in for a hug before I could even reply. 

This guy, I thought, is the most hug-oriented man I have ever met. 

I forced a smile and tried not to go stiff when he hugged me during the presentation. 

This is normal, I told myself, guys hug girls all the time in a gesture of friendship. Just because of what happened with Jonathan, you don't need to freak out every time a male touches you. 

"Here," he took my jacket, "I'll put it in my room with the rest of the coats." 

Travis motioned for me to follow him, so I did, navigating around all the people crammed into the fairly small apartment.  

"Hi Travis, man!" A guy in a beanie called out, pulling him for a semi-hug followed by some complex handshake. He didn't even bother acknowledging me. 

The being invisible thing wasn't new to me. With Jonathan, I was always invisible, that is until one of his friends wanted to make a jab at how "poor" I was when compared to the rest of them. 

God, why the heck did I tolerate all of that abuse for as long as I did? 

"Oceane?" Travis touched my arm, bringing me back into the present, "Are you okay?" 

"What? Sorry, I was thinking about something else." I replied. The beanie guy was gone. 

"Oh, okay. I'll leave your jacket here. Feel free to grab it whenever you want." 

As Travis walked over to his bed and added my jacket to the pile, I glanced around the room.

It was spacious, with desert-yellow walls, and a sprawling Persian rug underneath the bed. A rubber tree plant stood in the left-side corner by the window, next to a very minimalist study desk. The only art was a canvas printout of a sandy path of beach grass with the ocean just visible on the horizon. I could practically hear the waves crashing against the sand and feel the cold wind slam into and against me. 

"I took that photo while on a family vacation on Nantucket," Travis explained, following my gaze.

I must have stared at it more intently than I realized. 

"It looks very professional." I offered.

"I don't do things halfway," He cocked his head to the side, "When I'm in, I'm all in." 

That, I thought, was a very weird thing to say about a photograph.