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“You better not start any drama, Levon. You're more mature than that. You're a grown man. I know you can suck it up and get over it.”
I shook my head. “Whatever, Jen.”
I left the living room, storming up the stairs to my old bedroom. Nothing had changed about my room either—and apparently, nothing had changed about me. I was still just as susceptible to flights of anger as I was in my teenage years.
I should give myself more credit, I considered quietly as I sat on my bed.After all, I have grown a lot since I graduated. I've grown a lot since I left Clara.
I frowned at the posters on my walls. They were all old horror movies from the 70s and 80s. They reminded me of my life back then, the one that had felt so simple that I yearned for that simplicity all over again. I tossed myself back on my bed, listening to the hinges of the bed frame squeak under my weight.
I stared at the poster on my ceiling: it was a vintage movie about zombies from the early 80's when their graphics were sub-par. I enjoyed the hokey design of it all, how the zombies looked utterly fake and how the blood was brighter than it needed to be. I stared at it, imbibing every single detail.
There were so many nights I had spent under this poster, wondering about my life and where it would take me. I spent a great deal of those nights holding Clara. She had always fit so perfectly in the crook of my arm and she would always rest her hand over my chest.
I closed my eyes. I could almost feel her. When I opened my eyes, the poster was unchanged. The room was deathly quiet. I couldn't feel much of anything except the fear and frustration I had over my sister's wedding.
I still can't believe she won't pair me with someone else. I still think it's selfish. Why can't she just consider how it would make her feel, too? That counts, right?
I huffed, digging the back of my head further into my mattress. There was no way for me to dig deep enough. If I could hide inside of my bed, I would. I might miss the wedding, but at least I wouldn't have to face the heat of Jen's decision.
How can I be the only option?I grumbled something incoherent, grabbing a pillow to hide my face away from the rest of the world.Why can't I change any of this?
I growled into the pillow, resisting the urge to scream. If I yelled, my mother would just come rushing into my room, asking what she could do to help. It wasn't the worst idea ever. Mom could at least talk some sense into my sister. But I knew Jen well and I knew she wouldn't budge on this. She had the stubbornness of a donkey.
Much like me, she was committed to her decisions. It was what I loved about my sister. We got more done together because we were able to achieve our goals. If anyone was good at making things happen, it was Jen. But what she was making happen now was an absolute nightmare.
And I couldn't wake up from it.
I tossed the pillow aside. I favored laying on my right side and then rolled to my left, unable to get cozy in my own space. After a while of tossing around, I stood up and went to the stereo where I found my favorite classical music station. The sound of the cello always helped me think. And if that didn't work, I could always go for a walk.
I went to my laptop and popped it open. I had a few work emails. I answered each one with my full focus, giving every task the proper attention. It didn't take long for me to breeze through the assignments which only made matters worse. Now, I had nothing to occupy my brain. I could help more with the wedding things, but I didn't want to get into it again with Jen.
I owe her an apology.I frowned at my reflection in the wall-length mirror near my desk.About what? Vocalizing my needs?I shook my head.No, about being selfish. This is her wedding. She deserves to get whatever she wants out of it.
I sighed heavily, tearing my gaze away from the mirror. It was only Monday. There would be another couple of weeks until the wedding arrived. I was open to practicing a few grounding techniques I had picked up in Europe whenever I went to that yoga workshop. Grounding and breathing were some of the only things that would get me through this event.
Aside from a few glasses of whiskey.
But I found alcohol dulled my ability to cope. Although it helped numb sensations, it didn't get rid of the overall feeling that something was horribly wrong. It was best to meditate. At least that would clear my mind for the evening.
I took a few calming breaths and sat on the ground with my legs crossed beneath me. I perched my hands on my knees and relaxed my arms. I sat up straight with enough room for my back to be relaxed along with the rest of my body. I listened to the cello playing through the speakers, focusing on its emotive tones.
With every new breath came a calming, centering energy. I did my best to harness it, to hone in on its healing properties. I cycled through a few more breaths until finally opening my eyes, noticing that the music had changed entirely. It was a waltz playing. I stared at the window, noticing the sun lower in the sky.
Well, at least Monday was nearly over.
CHAPTER8
Clara
“Oh,crap—it's 9:30 already!”
I hadn't heard any of my alarms. I tossed the sheets from me, casting them away from my body. I sprang from my bed and pulled on whatever was available in hopes that it all matched. I quickly did a soft palette of makeup, rounded up my necessary items, and fled out the door. Luckily, my sister had already gone to work, so my car wasn't trapped in the driveway.
I did my best not to speed through downtown. It was hard not to smash the pedal to the floor, but I was worried about leaving Jen hanging. I didn't want her waiting at my office too long without me there. She was already under a great deal of pressure. I stopped off at a drive-thru coffee shop and picked up two caramel coffees before speeding—as legally as possible—over to my office.
I parked on the curb and hopped out, nearly spilling my coffee everywhere. I stepped up to the curb and glanced around.
“Where is she?”