Broken Pieces

As the Bridge Falls

     After my first experience with weed and my first kiss with Aidan, I decided to give our tight friendship a cool down. I still talked to him in class, walked with him in the halls, all the usual boundary, but a part of me felt awkward around him. Not because of the drugs, but because of the kiss. I never knew I could feel so free yet so weird. I refused to believe that I was feeling anything but awkwardness.
Cutting Aidan off was a big mistake. Life at home became engulfed in flames. The fights got worse, and we were nearly out of glass cups. I often found myself in that very same bathtub, crying myself to the point of no return. You could always tell when I had a breakdown. My eyes swelled up like a bee sting. My face grew cherry tomato red. That was the point of no return. But it's not like anyone paid attention to me and my well-being. I felt even more alone the next few weeks without Aidan. I went home after school and sat in the bathtub, which I found was conveniently the best spot in the house for solemnity. My days became the same, bland and routine. Wake up, go to school, come home, cry, repeat. I began to feel like the London bridge. Always falling down somewhere. Always being overlooked. And soon, as the bridge falls, they'll all realize the mess they've all gotten into.
The last week of school before Christmas holiday was a lot better than usual. I talked to Aidan outside of school, and I eased myself back into the realm of our friendship. I remained tight with him, and he never strayed further than my best friend. I could tell he was glad I incorporated him back into my daily routine. His face was always bright and bubbly, and his attitude was vivacious and eccentric. Aidan was Aidan. We both went through our rough spell of lost friendship, but I couldn't have asked for a better way for thins to work out.
The first day into the official break, Aidan texted me.
Hey Blythe do u wanna come over this afternoon? Got a new video game ;)
I smiled once I saw his name pop up at the top of my phone, but I felt compelled to say no. I kindly rejected and told Aidan I would come over another day. I could see his eyes, slightly pained. My heart sank when I sent the message. I turned my phone off for three hours after that. I couldn't handle his response. What if he cared more than I thought? I sat in the corner of my room in a lush beanbag. I traced my finger along my thigh, staring at my phone's pitch black screen. My curly hair tickled my nose and toyed with my cheeks. I turned my phone on, waiting for a response. Nothing. Once I checked the messages, I saw that Aidan left me on read. Ten minutes ago. So much for making it up to him.