Chasing Chaos

2009


I peeled his clothes from him and clawed at his skin with my panicked, frantic hands. He gripped my hips tighter than my body could handle, bruises appeared quickly and he kissed them as they materialized. His lips trailed across my exposed torso, black and blue from his forceful hands. His arms curled around me and I sunk into him.

And I didn’t think of anything else.

Oliver was anesthetic. This had always been true. When my skin melted with his, there was nothing else in my universe. Only a warm welling feeling, the remnants of burning chaos. Oliver dragged me to the floor of the office and I let him. I hadn’t said no. That would have been all it took to end this. No. No. No.

It was so wrong.

Do you ever turn your shower water to the hottest setting it’ll go and just stand there? Let the scalding water burn your skin until it’s red and raw? I like that feeling sometimes. I like it best when I think I deserve to be in pain. When I want to be hurt.

I did this a lot in the days following my office rendezvous with Oli. It was a hazy time for me, cloaked in a veil of impenetrable guilt and disappointment. It was nearly impossible to live with myself; I was going crazy. Everything was challenging with my new warped frame of mind. Any still moment was a cause of distress because my mind would begin replaying the torrid events. His hands sliding my shirt up and off my body. His lips at my ear, whispering things I didn’t want to remember. The bruising at my hips. It was stuck on repeat in my brain.

Every moment was strained and strangled because I was fighting back the thoughts of him.
My prevailing thought throughout was: How did this happen? How did we go from barely acknowledging the other’s existence to having sex on the floor of the Drop Dead office? At what point was the reel changeover? Because I’d clearly missed it. And I missed the moment where I decided it was a perfectly okay thing to cheat on my boyfriend.

Peter had no idea what was going on while we worked at the Turn together several days later. He could tell something was amiss. Though he said nothing and never asked what was wrong, he stopped to kiss my hair or squeeze my side more frequently than normal. He looked at me with eyes lidded in concern and when it was his time to leave, he lingered around the shop an extra half an hour longer than usual. I think he was waiting for me to just break down and tell him what was on my mind.

But I couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t even an option for me. I could barely admit to myself that it had happened, let alone admit it to Peter fucking Frost.

When Peter finally left, I started shaking. First, my hands trembled and then my whole body began to quake. I’d spent all day holding myself together, with the last of my frayed nerves serving as glue. I could no longer bear holding my façade and I crumbled like old stone. I shook and gasped for breath, right there in the empty store. I shuddered and screamed my way to tears, shrinking into a ball on the floor behind the counter.

I tugged at my hair and I wiped the snot from my nose with the sleeve of my jumper. I, no doubt, smudged my make up beyond repair. I rocked back and forth. But most notably, I spent these moments hating myself. I’d never been particular to self loathing, though in this instance no one abhorred their own existence quite the way I did. I could not fathom why I would do such a despicable thing to Peter. Worse yet, I could not fathom why part of me ached for Oli still. My scorched insides still yearned for Oliver Scott Sykes in a terrifying way, in a far different way than I longed for Peter. My want in regards to Peter had stepped into the realm of sad detachment; I realized then that he would be at a distance from me from there on out. And this depressed me further. But the desperate sort of want I had for Oli, a want that spited me, was the same as my want for scalding shower water. Masochistic. Baffling. Yet somehow more real than any want I’d ever had. Though irrational and loathsome, wanting Oli was pure and hot. Fire.

I didn’t hear the bell above the door ring; my hysterics were still loudly consuming my hearing. But someone had entered the shop and they said “Savanna?” Crashing, wave-like lunacy hit me and I cried harder, still shaking wildly. With a troubled tone the person pressed again “Savanna?... Fuck,” he murmured as he found me curled behind the counter. “Sav, are yeh—no, no, yer not okay, I can see that—“ he rambled as he knelt down beside me. “Hey, shh, it’s o’reight.” He reached for me.

I swung at him sharply, knocking his hands away. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me!” I shrieked.

He recoiled from my scream. “I—I… Sav…”

“Go away,” I heaved, softer in pitch than before. I tried to re-glue myself together. Oli seeing me in pieces was far worse than Peter seeing me that way. Because I couldn’t lie to Oli; he knew why I was hysterical. I had very little luck securing my nerves. I was crying less and no longer twitching violently. But my hands were still unsteady and my teeth chattered against each other.

So he said “Yer shakin’, Sav…” He inched back closer, though careful not to touch me. “I jus’ came to well—I mean, I wanted—“

“Yeh can’t jus’ come to my work, Oli… For fuck’s sake, Peter were jus’ ‘ere. Wha’ ef yeh’d—or ef ‘e knew—fuck.” Words didn’t seem to fit right into the puzzle of my manic thoughts and heavy breathing.

He shook his head. “I waited until ‘e left to come in. Didn’ wanna cause—“

“Waited? Yeh ‘ad the place bloody staked out?” This sentence formed easier than the last ones.

“It weren’t like that… I knew tha’ yeh close up alone on Wednesdays and, uh, I know it sounds weird that I know that but Savanna, I had to see yeh before yeh got the wrong idea about wha’ happened…”

“Well, ‘ere, yeh’ve seen me. ‘Ow’s it look?” I said coldly, to juxtapose the hot stinging underneath my skin.

“Oh, bullocks, Savanna.” He brushed the hair from his eyes and let his spindly fingers linger at the back of his neck. “Can yeh calm down for jus’ a minute?” He asked in almost reassuring voice.

“No I can’t fuckin’ calm down,” I spit. “Calm down, HA! Yeh can say that. Yeh can be calm ‘cause yer not on the verge of exploding an’ yer not freakin’ out ‘cause yer life can go on as normal.”

“Yer scarin’ me, love.” He moved even closer and I shuddered into the corner. “I ain’t gonna hurt yeh… I jus’ wanna…” He didn’t know what he wanted.

With my hands over my face, I pleaded “Please, jus’ leave.”

“I can’t leave yeh ‘ere alone. Yer a mess.”

“Thanks, yer a doll,” I coughed venomously.

“Savanna, don’t be angry with me,” he had a pleading tone all of his own.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Not mad at yeh. I can’t be. ‘S expected for yeh to be a moral-less sleaze. I’m angry with myself… I’m not usually a fuckin’ slut so—“

“Yer not a slut,” he assured.

“Not a slut?!” I screeched. “Not a slut? I know yeh’ve low standards but even yeh know that a girl who goes about with someone who ain’t her boyfriend isn’t exactly a lady.” Saying this aloud was a bad idea. It cracked me in half once more and I sobbed into my sleeve. Oli was quiet as I choked and wept. I sucked in several gasps of air only to let them out as small cries.

When he reached out and touched my shoulder, I didn’t flinch away; there was no strength in my body for it. His hand trailed the length of my arm as he slid nearer to me. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, with his fingers tracing circles across my forearm.

I looked up at him, eyes narrow. “Yer not sorry. Yeh’ve not an apologetic bone in yeh. Yeh prob’ly like this.”

Desperately, he gripped my arm. “Yeh think I like this? I’m not a bloody monster. I don’t wanna see yeh hurtin’ like this. I can’t fuckin’ stand it.”

“Ef yeh don’t wanna see me hurt, why’d yeh let this happen?”

“I couldn’t have stopped it ef I tried.” His other arm was snaking around me. It wasn’t comfortable or reassuring. But in a way, his touch was relief and I melted to it. Another plea of sorts came from his mouth. “Please don’t hate me.”

As long as I hated myself, I would hate him too. He was the part of me I detested so supremely. But my allowance of his touch betrayed this. It contradicted my hate for us both. Allowing it meant enjoying it just a little bit.

“I am sorry, Sav.” He pressed me into his body closer and I couldn’t even begin to protest. I didn’t really want to. “So sorry,” he repeated, rocking us slightly. “I wish I could make this better.”

I didn’t understand what was happening. My anger towards him was fading with his sincerity increasing. Relief transformed into the original hesitant reassurance. It didn’t make sense. I wanted to yell and to scream and to shriek. I wanted to tell him to leave me alone for the rest of forever because this kind of pain, the pain of a raw burn, was unbearable. It wouldn’t be long before there wasn’t any uninjured part of me.

He pulled away to look at my face. It was hard to hold his gaze; it terrified me with its intensity. But I let him study my eyes and I tried to read his. The warm honey and pine color captivated me, entranced me. I wished to live in a world of only this color, gentle and soft with no harsh edges. I would be safe and happy if the emotions his eyes portrayed really existed.

He ran a hand across my cheek, wiping away moisture and make up. “Would yeh believe me ef I said everything were gonna be o’reight?”

“No,” I asserted firmly. “Would you even believe it ef yeh said it?”

“No,” he admitted freely.

“It won’t be okay, Oli. This isn’t okay.”

“It could be.”

I shook my head. “How?”

He made no attempt to respond. He knew as well as I did that this was still wrong. But his forehead touched mine as his hand rest at my neck. His eyes watched my lips, sending an intolerable want through me. A want that I didn’t dare satiate. It would make things even worse.

“Please don’t kiss me,” I begged of him with eyes closed.

“Why not?”

“Yeh know why not…”

“One won’t hurt.”

“It’ll hurt with or without it,” I said.

“Then yeh might as well let me do it. Won’t change anything.” His point was valid. A kiss wouldn’t make a difference. I was going to hell anyway. So he kissed me. Just once, without any tricks or tactics. Just a simple, unwavering kiss with which he followed “I’m sorry” once more. For what he was sorry, I wasn’t sure.

--

2005

Oli had failed to mention that his brother would be attending the same end of summer party that we would be attending. I’m sure it was possible that he’d been unaware of it. But it still irked me in some way. Like maybe there was some super secret plot to force me into seeing Tom.

I’d not seen him since our spat at their house, the fight in which he’d told me I was nothing special. I was still inwardly reeling from it and was not exactly ready to run in to him in the line for the loo at some random house party. If I had known, I would have at least prepared a speech or note cards or something similarly helpful. But I had nothing except for a good buzz from all the beer I’d consumed.

He was just standing there, red cup in hand and looking so terribly heartbreaking. He was third in line outside the bathroom, behind two disheveled drunk girls. He didn’t even glance in their direction, only at his feet.

I recalled the days when we’d go to these sort of parties together. If it had been one of those times, I’d lean over and whisper in his ear a joke about the drunk girls, mocking them. He would laugh then suggest we get away from the whole scene and go back to his house and play Mario Kart. And I would be perfectly alright with that. In fact, I’d be eager to leave, escape all the strangers and just hang out with my best friend.

Suddenly, the numbness I’d built up in regards to him dissolved and in its place a deep sadness formed. I missed him more just then than I had all summer. I wanted to go back to the way things were. I’d give up all the friends I’d made if I could just have Tom back. He’d been my friend when I was reserved and quiet. He’d been my only friend. I nearly broke into tears just as he caught sight of me. His bright eyes widened and I very quickly fled the scene, not glancing back but feeling his eyes on me shamelessly as I retreated. I was a coward.

As soon as I spotted her, I flung myself at Gracie, who stood watching Matt and Oli play a game of beer pong. She caught me in her arms. “Whoa, wha’s yer damage, Heather?”

“Tomsere,” I blurted.

“Wha?”

“Tom’s ‘ere… I’ve jus’ seen ‘im…”

“Tha’s good, ain’t it?” She asked. “’E’s been hiding for two months; ‘s about time ‘e showed ‘is face. Now yeh’ll get yer chance to talk with ‘im.”

My mouth dropped and I anxiously hissed “I can’t talk to ‘im! I don’t know how.”

Gracie rolled her eyes. “Yeh’ve been mates since like birth, Anna. Yeh know ‘ow. Jus’ go up an’ talk to ‘im.”

“But, I…”

“No buts, mon Cherie.” She leaned into me and kissed my cheek. “Go find ‘im.”

“I dunno ef I—“

I was interrupted by cheers from Oli and Matt as they had apparently won the game. Unexpectedly, Oli caught me up in an exicted hug, briefly lifting me from the ground. He kissed me soundly before letting go and high-fiving Matt. “’Oo’s next?” Oli yelled. “We’ll destroy anyone ‘oo comes up.” His speech was a slanted slut. He and Matt had been on a six game winning streak and had celebrated each win with a shot or two of Jager.

“I’ll play,” a weak voice called over the noise. Out of the crowd, Tom appeared. And I was pretty much dying over his timing.

Oli laughed. “Tommy? Ha!”

“Wha? Yeh don’t think I can handle it?” Tom said in dissension.

“I’ll crush yeh in an instant, Tommy,” Oli taunted.

“Yeh don’t ‘ave a partner, mate,” Matt pointed out with his arm slung over Gracie’s shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter who’s my partner,” Tom stated. “I’ll beat yeh anyway.”

Matt snickered. But Oli looked eager. “O’reight sounds fair. So I can pick yer partner then?”

Tom shrugged. “Fine.”

Oli grinned and very slowly turned to me. “Savanna’ll be your partner.”

I imagine both my face and Tom’s looked about the same, streaked with shades of horror. “Oh, uh,” I started. “I’ve not ever played before.”

Matt responded. “‘E said Oli could pick.”

“’S fine, Sav,” Oli assured. “’S not hard.”

“Um, but…” I looked to Tom.

He was not looking at me but at his brother. “Fine, wha’ever.”

I swelled with a long vanquished hope and looked to Gracie then Oli. They were both silently telling me to do it. I folded under their reassuring gazes and I said “Okay.”

Tom. Oh Tom. What a strange and confused elation lived in me at the idea of even standing next to him. Despite his scowl, he still looked so adorable to me. I wanted to hug him and pet his hair and have him tell me terrible jokes. I knew the things I was thinking weren’t normal and I wouldn’t be able to share my hopes with anyone. But I didn’t mind. There was something about my grand affection that needed to be a secret. Like if I spoke the words, it might ruin it. Not that things between Tom and I weren’t already ruined.

“Don’t worry, Savanna,” Oli called from across the table. “I’ll go easy on yeh, love.”

Tom was pouring beer into the plastic cups and he raised his eyebrows. “So yeh go by Savanna now?”

I shook my head, biting down on my lip. “Oh, uh, no… Not really. Oli jus’ don’t understand the Anna concept.”

“Right…” Tom murmured skeptically and then fell silent again.

His coldness was painful for me. Had I really done something to deserve this? And I realized that I had. I’d given up trying to fight for him. And then to top it off, I’d created a new life for myself. One that didn’t involve him in any shape or form. But didn’t he care at all that I would run back to him in an instant if he wanted me to?

Matt took the first shot of the game, missing the cups by quite a distance. Oli scoffed at his partner and then proceeded to miss his own shot. “Bullocks,” he sputtered.

I glanced over at Tom who handed one of the small white balls to me without even looking. He allowed me to go first. I didn’t even know what the correct method of shooting was but I went for it and promptly missed. I felt defeated but no one seemed to notice because immediately after I took my shot, Tom took his own. And he made it into the front cup with expert precision.

There was a dim sort of surprise washing over everyone and I nearly hugged Tom on the spot. But I kept to myself and watched as a smug smile happened upon Tom’s mouth. It was funny but just then I found myself thinking how much he really did look like his brother. Granted, Tom was rounder with more striking eyes. For a brief moment, I became worried that my fascination with them both was abnormal. But then Oli and Matt missed their second shots and I forgot all about my worries.

For the duration of the game, Tom’s coldness towards me faltered very little. The only exception was when, by some miracle chance, I made the ball into a cup. At this, Tom looked over to me as though he might say something but then he quickly turned back around and took his turn, making it.

Tom had been right to be so cocky when challenging Oli. Tom was a wiz at beer pong, surprising all of us. He made nearly every shot he took while Matt and Oli wavered. They had both becoming too drunk to play well and Tom and I beat them almost easily.

I could tell that Tom was slightly surprised, though I’m not sure if anyone but me would be able to pick up on it. Not that it mattered, because no one was looking at him. They were dispersing from the table now that Oli and Matt were off their streak. So I leaned over and said to him “Good job.”

His eyes briefly met mine before saying “Thanks,” and looking away.

Slightly dejected, I looked to Oli. He looked disappointed and I frowned. “Aw, love, don’t be sad.” I walked closer to him. “Jus’ cause yeh lost to a beginner.” I grinned wickedly as he hugged me. I barely thought of nearby Tom.

“I’m too pissed to play anyway,” Oli said, with a sloppy smile.

“Yeh ain’t that drunk.” I rolled my eyes.

“’S what yeh think… ‘M jus’ good at bluffin’.”

“Mhmm.”

Oli smiled bigger and leaned down to peck a kiss at the corner of my mouth. He’d barely grazed my lips when I heard Tom’s annoyed grunt behind me. I immediately distanced myself from Oli, to appear mildly innocent but Tom was already walking away from the table. I knew that this was my chance. Possibly my only chance. So I followed him. Leaving Oli behind.

“Oy!” I called ahead of me, trying to claim his attention. “Where are yeh goin’? We won; we’re up again…” I trailed him towards the door.

“I’m done playin’.”

“So yer leavin’?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t meet my eyes.

“Yeh should stay a little bit longer…”

“Why? I o’ways leave early.”

“But…” I couldn’t think of a good excuse for him to stay. Other than “I don’t want yeh to leave.”

He stopped moving when I said this but didn’t turn to me. “Yeh don’t want me to leave…”

“It’s good seein’ yeh ‘ere.”

“Oh, is that why yeh ran away when yeh saw me by the toilet?” He turned slowly and he finally looked at me. His eyes were frightening. Sharp blue and harsh disappointment.

“Tom…” I reached for his hand and he limply let me take it. “I miss yeh… so much.”

“Do yeh really? ‘Cause it seems to me like yer doin’ jus’ fine hangin’ out with Oli instead.”

“An’ somehow that means I don’t wanna be hangin’ with you too?”

“I dunno what it means, Savanna.” This name coming from him sounded like an ugly thing.

I sighed. “I jus’ wanna know what I did that were so wrong to deserve the silent treatment for three months.”

“Nothin’, yeh did nothin’.”

“Oh come on. There’s gotta be something. An’ wha’ever it is, I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry, Tom. Please j-jus’ stop bein’ angry with me. I can’t take it much longer.” I squeeze his unresponsive hand. “I love yeh, Tom.”

For an instant, his face flashed remorse and sadness. An I was convinced that this was it; the fight was over. But barely a moment passed before he was stoney-faced once more. “Wha’ about Oli? Do yeh love ‘im?”

“Eh?”

“Is tha’ wha’s happening? Yeh think yeh love ‘im… that ‘e loves you?”

“I… no… well, I—no, I don’t know.” The question caught me off guard.

“Yeh don’t know?” He rolled his eyes. “Yeh know ‘e don’t love yeh. ‘E don’t love anyone.”

“I think Oli deserves more credit than that. ‘E ain’t a monster,” I defended.

“’E’s really got yeh goin’ hasn’t ‘e? I never took yeh for such a sucker…”

I let go of his hand. “Why are yeh actin’ this way?”

“Yer the one actin’ like a completely different person,” he accused.

“’M the same as I ever was.”

“So yeh’ve oways been a fuckin’ sket then?” He asked sharply and I could tell almost immediately that he regretted it.

But this gave me absolutely no hope. It floored me and I became instantly incapable of coherent speech. I stuttered out a few “ums” and “uhs” before my eyes began to well with moisture. I couldn’t handle the way he was looking at me, with such strange eyes. Could he really hate me this much?

I stumbled backwards away from him. It was cowardly, fleeing his presence for the second time that evening. His anger was staggering, crippling. I had to get away from it. But even when I hid myself in a corner of the still raging party, I couldn’t quite escape him. He was stuck in my head. Realizing now that maybe it was really over between us. Maybe that was it.

But I couldn’t grasp why it had to be that way. What makes this so difficult? Things shouldn’t be this hard for best friends. They’d never been this complex previously. What changed?

After some good amount of time, Oli found me seated on the front stairs of the house. “Sav?” He plopped down beside me, leaning against my shoulder for support. He rubbed my arm. “Wha’ happened?”

I shrugged him off of me. I couldn’t feel any affection for him in this moment. Not with Tom’s cold anger still freezing my skin.

“Babygirl,” Oli cooed. This was not a nickname he ever used for me. “’S okay. Tom’s a wanker.”

“Yeh’ve said that a million times an’ it don’t change anything, Oli,” I bit. Something was quite irritating about him then. Like this was his fault.

He flinched away but immediately tried to pull back in. “Come on, Savanna, let’s get us another drink—“

“No, I jus’ wanna sit ‘ere by myself for a bit.”

“Yeh shouldn’t be alone; yer upset…”

“An’ that’s why I gotta be alone.”

“What’d that bugger say to yeh?”

“Nothin’ that ain’t true.”

“Wha’ was it? I’ll knock some sense into the little prat—“

I stood up to get away from him. “Stop it. Don’t say stuff like that. This isn’t even Tom’s fault. I’m beginnin’ to think that I deserve all the shite e’s been pullin’.”

Oli tried to look encouraging but he just looked drunk. “Calm down, love… Let’s jus’ go get another dri—“

“I don’t want another fuckin’ drink. I jus’ wanna be alone. Yeh can drink all yeh fuckin’ want. Yer a lot better at doin’ that than yeh are at tryin’ to comfort me.” I was cruel but not because I was mad at Oli. I was the most angry with myself. I did the most foolish things.

So Oli slowly stood and nodded; he looked almost sad. “O’reight, fine.” And he went back in the house, leaving me all alone again.