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dear dimestore therapists,

i must have made some sort of sound when i realized what was going on, when i realized aidan and jackie were…cavorting on her bed. i’m not sure what sound i made, but he heard it and whipped around.

he saw me, and the guilt written plainly on his face almost made me feel better, but i didn’t stay behind to revel in his shame. i turned tail and ran, but not before i heard him calling my name.

i clomped down the seemingly endless flights of stairs, once again cursing the terrible decision-making that had led me to wear such ridiculous shoes. definitely not the right shoes for escaping from my worst nightmare.

i pushed my way through crowds of drunk teenagers, not caring who saw me. i knew i needed to get some air before i vomited. i could feel the bile rising, and i didn’t want to blow chunks in jackie’s house. i’d already lost enough of my dignity without having to deal with vomit cleanup.

my head cleared substantially when the frigid air from outside hit my face. and as my head cleared, i realized i was furious, but what i didn’t realize was why i cared so much. i hadn’t given aidan any reason to think that i didn’t want him making out with jackie, so i had no right to be angry.

and yet, the rage was beginning to gather strength, to take over me completely. i was seeing spots, and i knew i needed to get home before i embarrassed myself any further. i looked around wildly for my car before remembering that i had come with aidan, and for some reason that only infuriated me further. to make matters worse, i had left my cell phone in aidan’s car, so i couldn’t even call my mom for a ride.

i was in the process of resolving to walk the four miles home through pitch-black streets when the door to jackie’s house opened and aidan’s voice made its way to me through the bitterly cold air.

“olivia!” (he called me by my full name again, i noticed, and i didn’t like it.) “where are you going? it’s freezing out here!”

i told aidan i was well aware of the chill in the air, and that i was going home. he hurried out of the doorway and over to me. i could barely stand to look at him. he was holding a half-empty cup in his hand, and from what i could smell, it had beer in it.

aidan didn’t drink very often, and he never did it when he was with me–he knew i never drank. seeing him with alcohol in his hand was almost worse than the image of him straddling jackie. i just didn’t know how to process it all.

he looked down at the cup in his hand and then looked back at me, almost ruefully, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. then he started to talk, saying something about how he was coming to look for me when he’d run into jackie.

i didn’t want to hear it, so i charged him. he flinched like he was afraid i was going to slap him again, but i wasn’t going to hit him. i wanted what was in his pants. i dug into his front pocket and pulled out his keys, then walked to his car, which was about 20 feet away.

after i got my cell phone, i locked the car again and walked back to aidan. i didn’t even try to say anything, i knew i’d only be able to rave like a lunatic. so i just cocked my arm and let his keys fly, aiming directly at his forehead. he barely dodged them, and they went sailing past his head, falling with a soft jingle into the grass somewhere behind him.

then i spun on my heel and walked back to his car, sat on the curb next to it, and called my mom for a ride.

i didn’t talk to aidan again for two weeks.

yours,

olivia

— Alexis

Tagged as: olivia