𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 - 𝐁.𝐄

forty three - cherry

•
julia.
•

december 24th.

i was making her pasta with whatever vegan ingredients i could scavenge in my fridge, it kinda helps that im vegetarian though. still, with my back turned to her as i stirred the pot, i could feel her eyes on me, though i never turned around to check.

she was sat at the kitchen island, wrapped up in the same fleece blanket i'd cocooned myself in earlier when i was alone on the couch. her hair was slightly damp from the snow that just happened to catch her outside, her hood not letting up since the droplets still clung stubbornly to the strands like they were afraid to let her go as well.

she looked so small just sitting there in my oversized blanket, like she was trying to disappear into it, like she was trying to avoid any sort of sensitive topic between us two.

we hadn't exchanged many words since she'd arrived. i'd just opened the door, wordlessly took her coat off her shoulders as it was still dripping wet and hung it on a hanger in the mudroom and just led her inside. her eyes had darted around the christmas decorations all along my house like she was trying to remember every detail of the new place she'd entered before she'd leave again.

i realized that she was hungry when her stomach growled softly as we almost sat in the living room. the growl cut through the silence that held thick between us, much like the snow outside.

so, i had her sit down at the kitchen island. her shoeless feet dangled off of the high stools as her elbows propped themselves up upon the marble. i'd make my way to the living room, soon returning back to the kitchen with the fleece blanket and pulled that same blanket over her shoulders, wrapping her in it gently as though it were a swaddle.

my mom had always told me not to bring anything soft into the kitchen, like the said blanket. she said it would "ruin the fabric if you stained it," so she claimed. but she wasn't here now, was she?

my back remained turned to her as i continued to mix ingredients for the sauce into a pan, yet i could still feel her eyes burning into me like she was trying to reach through the distance. that tension between us was palpable, awkward, heavy. it always was. this silence was the silence i hated with her. it's the same kind of silence that wrapped itself around your neck like a noose, threatening to choke the words right out of you if you so much as dared to speak. but instead of taking the words out, it just killed you, giving nothing in return.

our call had been awkward. and now this. us. just sitting here, being not quite strangers, but not quite friends anymore. it was awkward. pretty fucking awkward. why would it be any different in person if the call was just as bad?

the questions i had for her were already burning on my tongue, but i bit them back, maybe even hard enough to draw blood—since i could kind of taste pennies the more my teeth dug into my muscle.

she was supposed to be at my lake house, right? with her family and her new "boyfriend," playing house along the water while i should've sat here, in my empty house, watching home alone (part two) while pretending not to care. maybe as time moved on, i'd forget she was even there. but that's too bad. she's here. there. everywhere. when is she not? again, she's like a haunting memory, burning into your brain so that way you'll never forget her. now, it's impossible to forget about billie, no matter how hard i try, especially when she's one look over my shoulder away.

instead of asking anything, i poured less than a shot of vodka into the pasta sauce, watching as the alcohol sizzled and vanished into the pan. it was easier to lose myself in the mundane task of stirring and watching the sauce thicken than to face her. i could have stayed like that forever. i could have drowned myself in the cooking and letting the heat from the stove seep and radiate into my skin than have to keep pretending like this was normal—that we were normal, that everything was fine, that everything was the way it was when i first met her.