Vice [h.s]

I

There are two things in this world that irk me. One, pity. And two, groups of strangers talking about their feelings. The irony of it all is that I am currently sitting in a grief support group regretting my every decision leading up to this morning.

The sun blistered down on my skin as I sit in agony. The slight, humid breeze, disheveling stray pieces of sand and wedging itself in between the bottom of my foot and my heels. Fucking hell.

White plastic chairs form a circle on the beach of Paradise Cove, Malibu. Why we couldn't just have this session inside? I've got no fucking clue. Something about connecting with nature or some bullshit like that. Supposedly being outside in the sunlight is supposed to create a healing atmosphere, according to my obnoxiously vegan support group leader. It's funny because the ocean's right there and I could literally end it all. The irony of today.

Perhaps my cynicism will fade over time; however, perhaps not. It's my third session and I still can't help but make passing jokes about the death of the man I was going to marry. Apparently that's "not appropriate". Fuck you, Jahn, some would say your dreadlocks as a straight white man are "not appropriate".

Okay, the elephant in the room. Instead of being a douche and just breaking up with me, Derek decided to get himself killed. Fucking asshole. Now I can't be mad at him for leaving. It's almost smart that he did that.

"So when we are discussing the seven stages of grief..." Jahn's nasally voice interrupted my train of thought momentarily.

Yeah I already know. Shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression and hope. Given my consistent shit mood, I would put myself in between anger and depression. Something about finding my boyfriend with 3 bullet holes to the neck and abdomen in the middle of our shared living room doesn't sit right with me. I don't know, maybe I'm just being sensitive.

An accidental sigh leaves my lips as I notice another person grab a chair and pull up to the circle. I watch as the man scans the entire damn beach and then proceeds to walk towards me, setting the chair down in the open spot next to mine. Of course. Can't wait to make more friends!

"Hello Harold, I'm Jahn, we spoke on the phone. Welcome-"

"It's Harry," his blunt voice interrupts, a british accent prevalent on his tongue. Finally someone other than me to shut Jahn up. Is he my people?

"Right, sorry, Harry this is Guidance through Grief and we're so glad you're here."

I can't help but notice his fucking posture. Aside from that he's an averagely attractive man. The dark hair and eyes definitely work out in his favor. The bags under his eyes allude to potential drug addiction or alcoholism. I wonder what his poison is. That's hot.

"Hi Harry," the rest of the group says in unison. Is this an AA meeting? Fucking Jesus are you kidd-

"Tatum, your presence is greatly valued and appreciated in this group, if you could try to participate that would be wonderful."

Fuck you Jahn. I stiffly nod.

"Great! Well, since there are some new faces I think we should all go around and introduce ourselves and... hmm... let's tell everyone our favorite food, I'll start," Jahn rambles on.

As the group begins to share the non-important aspects of their personal lives, I sense Henry's gaze out of the corner of my eye. I shifted my body towards him, a blank look on my face.

"What."

"Why didn't you say hi?" He asks.

"Are you four?" Jesus, this Hayden guy is turning out to be a tool. First the ship tattoo and now this.