It's Alright to be Together

Chapter 8

The next day was hell on earth. Jenny stayed up with you all night until you crashed sometime early this morning. You had both slept on the couch and your back was all twisted and cramped up in weird places. Jenny had left a note for you saying she had gone to work-she still had to pay for the apartment after all. She also mentioned that she would say you were sick so you didn't have to worry about your shifts that day which was good-you doubted you could've gone there anyways. You couldn't face the world yet.

After you woke up, tears ran down your cheeks when you realized he wasn't lying next to you where he should be. Where he no longer would be. It wasn't something you were fully ready to come to terms with. Part of you wanted to run back to him and make everything exactly as it was before. Another part of you wanted to run away and never look back. But most of you wanted to curl up and cry your eyes out in self-pity and self-hate. And shamefully that was what you did all day. He had always been too good for you. Shouldn't it have been obvious if not expected for him to move to someone more his level?

Still, it hurt to think about. The pain in your chest didn't let up. None of your prior relationships had ended this painfully, but none of them you relied on as you did with him.

You looked up from your moody ball on the couch. 4:00. Jenny will be home in an hour or so. I should at least put myself to work so I'm not a complete burden. Wiping the dried streaks of salt water off your cheeks, you stand up and make your way to the kitchen. Dishes cluttered the counter from your last night all-sugar diet with Jenny and her breakfast this morning. You hadn't eaten anything since then: you simply weren't hungry. There was no feeling-not hunger nor thirst nor the need to be relieved-that can compare that ripping apart your insides. You just wanted it gone.

Slowly but surely, you maneuvered yourself around the kitchen in an anything but graceful manner. Starting with the dishes, you fill the sink with soapy water and start to carefully watch each one to perfection. You then looked through all the cabinets, setting each piece of cutlery in its own respectful place. It helped keep your mind off things for a little, but once you were done, the tears started brimming at the corner of your eyes again.

You quickly switched to fixing dinner, realizing that as long as you kept yourself busy, the pain became less noticeable. Less searing. And altogether less horrible.

About 5:20 you heard the tumblers roll as Jenny unlocked the door. It was perfect timing: dinner was almost done.

"Mm.~ What smells so good in here?" The door swung shut followed by the clicking of heels approaching you.

"I made dinner. I used what I could find and made spaghetti." You flashed her a smile as she stepped into the small kitchen/dining room. Your smile only lasted a few milliseconds which was hopefully not enough for her to notice how fake and forced it was. But of course she was Jenny and Jenny had a knack for figuring out everyone's emotions. It had been a great skill when it came to customer satisfaction because she always knew what to say to brighten any customer's day-earning her a big tip as well.

"You didn't have to make dinner." she said, biting her lip. For some reason that was beyond you, she decided not to question your smile. Or maybe she didn't because she understood you were still hurting.

"I wanted too. Plus when I'm I forget..." You almost lost all control there. Tears threatened to fall from the corner of your eyes as your voice faded into nothing. For a few moments you stood there, over the stove, struggling to put a lid on the pain and not to cry in front of my friend who felt like the only friend you had left. "Anyways," you paused as you tried to even out your breathing as if nothing at all was wrong, "dinner is done."

Jenny took out some of the plates you had put away earlier with that familiar clang as the dishes hit each other. She handed you the plates and you put a small serving on each one. As for sides, you had made garlic bread in the oven while you cooked broccoli in the microwave. On each plate, you put some of both.