Fragile Minds, Fierce Hearts

KATE

I had a bachelorette party to attend. I truly didn't want to go. The reason being, I knew my friends would yell at me for not moving on. Everyone's branching out, getting married, starting their own families, with stable jobs. I can't do any of that. I haven't dated anyone, let alone fallen in love with anyone, for years.

Her name was Kira; she died in a car accident. I think about her constantly, replaying that memory in my head. I shouldn't have let her read that book. No book is worth more than her safety. All I can think about is how I killed her—not directly, but I feel so guilty for it. After she died, I had a mental breakdown so severe that I had to go to a psychiatric ward.

I always felt as if my emotions were too much, too consuming. I would change myself for whoever I was surrounded by. In the ward, I was diagnosed with BPD. It all clicked for me, but ever since the diagnosis and the accident, I can't bring myself to love. Nothing real, at least. If I was actually seeing someone, there was no real connection, just lust. Although, to some of my friends, that's what love is.

So for that exact reason, I dread bachelorette parties. It was time to go to the party now, but I still didn't want to go. So many people there.

I step through the door, and everyone's already asking me, "Where's the special one?" Well, that one was Jessica, the lucky one.
"Nowhere, fuck off," I say in a joking tone.
"Damn, why you always got an attitude?"
"I don't. It was a joke, could you not tell?"
"Oh, my bad. Kinda slow."
"No shit, Sherlock!"

Maybe I was being too mean, or maybe she was too sensitive. Hours went by, not an ounce of alcohol in my system, yet everyone and their mother is asking me about my love life, not theirs, mine. I don't know what's wrong with people and their obsession with my life.

Eventually, it's 10 PM, and I head to the bar down the street from Jessica's house. I sit down at the bar and order myself a Jack and Coke. There's this woman next to me, older than me, or at least I think. All of a sudden, I hear:
"Has anyone told you that you look like Marilyn Monroe? I think it's the hair. I don't know!" You could tell she was drunk.
"No, haven't heard that one."
"C'mon, you gotta have heard that at least a few times before," she says in a giggly tone.
"Sure." I chuckled.
"So, are you married? Or at least tied up with someone?" she asked.

That was a complicated question to answer. Simply because I was married, before the accident.
"No, no I am not."
"He divorce you or something?"
"No."
"Then what happened?"
"Nothing."
"Oh. Do you ever loosen up?"

Again, a complicated question. I loosened up with Kira, but other than that, no.
"Depends on the connection," I responded.
"Oh, I'm Chloe, by the way," she says as she puts her hand on my thigh.
"Oh, I'm Kate."
"Well, can I buy you a drink, Kate?"
"It's okay. I gotta leave soon anyway."

Before I could even finish my sentence, Chloe had bought me another Jack and Coke. Two. Both for me. I don't know why, other than the fact that she wanted me to take her home. It's now 1 AM, and Chloe has been buying me drink after drink, and I'm starting to feel its effects. I get out of my seat and get ready to dip out.
"Yo, Monroe," Chloe says.
"Not my name," I reply.
"Whatever it is. Let's drive around together?"

Hesitantly, I don't do anything except leave because I can't handle another Kira situation and open my car door. This woman really followed me to my car.
"Get in," I say. She starts to giggle a bit.

We blast music as we drive.
"Drive us to my place?" Chloe asks.

At this point, I'm too drunk to think. So, I stupidly agree. We're laughing so hard that I almost hit a pole on the way there.
"Coffee?" Chloe asks.
"Isn't it a bit late?" I question. She shrugs her shoulders and gives me the drink anyway.

She then opens the pull-out bed, and as soon as I don't expect it, she kisses me. I stupidly don't pull away, but there's something about how I feel connected to Kira again in some way. I let her kiss me, not knowing what was going to happen, and before you know it, it's the morning after.