A Falling Sky

Chapter 11

I want to get inside before the rain starts. The rain is my fault, of course, and I know it. But I can’t control my emotions no matter how hard I try. Believe me, I’ve tried. I run inside just as the first drop falls.

My mission is to make it to a bathroom. I may not be able to control how I feel on the inside, but I can try to stop myself from crying and snotting all over the place. The bathroom on the second floor of the bar is a private single-stall, so I make my way up the stairs and cover my face as I go. Luckily it is open and I slam the door behind me to shut out the loud revelers. I allow myself only two minutes to let the sobs wrack through my body.

I blow hard into toilet paper as I lean against the door and cry. I don’t think that Heath and I have ever had a worse fight, none that I can remember at least. He actually called me a bitch! I call myself that all of the time—I mean, I know I am a bitch—but he is always the first to come to my defense and say something like, “It’s only because you’re having a bad day. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” But this time, he meant it to cause harm. I know that I deserve it, but that still doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I mean, I was shoving my tongue down his throat and was about ready to have sex with him, for Christ sake! The thought makes me shudder with disgust at myself and I’m glad he stopped us. I just don’t know what came over me. And THEN, after all of that, I questioned his masculinity, something that I know he is sensitive about. All because he wouldn’t take my virginity up against a dirty wall in an alleyway next to a bar. God, I suck.

A minute of my time is up and I want to check my reflection before I go back out there. Wiping my nose one last time, I face myself in the mirror and I look worse than I thought. My makeup is causing black droplets to cling to the skin around my eyes. My nose and lips are red and moist while my eyes are puffy and bloodshot. I run my hands under cold water and bring it to my face. It feels good on my hot skin as I do it again and again. I know my two minutes are fully up, but I look at the sad girl in the mirror one more time.

I reflect on this week and I know that I’ve been awful. From being mean to Harry, to constantly bickering at Heath, to being jealous when I have nothing to worry about—as well as no room to even talk.

Oh yea, THEN I almost forced myself on Heath... What a great way to top off this psychotic-girlfriend-from-hell episode I’ve gotten myself into. My hormones must be crazy. I’m probably about to start my period.

I dry my face with toilet paper and leave the bathroom without wanting to look at myself again because I am so ashamed.

WALKING DOWN THE STAIRS, I immediately look for Bradley first. He would understand and sympathize more than Harry. I search through each room but can't seem to spot him. I do spot Harry, of course. He is at the bar where I left him but this time he is talking and laughing with two girls at his side…great… I walk up and upon closer view, I realize that the two girls are Jessica’s friends, Christie and Jamie…even better…

Harry is making Jamie laugh at something and she is throwing her head back, grabbing his hand for support. Ew. She is waaaay overdoing it. She is letting her hand linger in his as he steadies her drunken stumbling. Gross. Christie is right next to her, but she seems to be uninterested in their conversation. I catch Jamie’s eye as I make my way over.