Chasing Chaos

2009

Being in the car with Oli terrified me and I tried very hard not to think of the last time we had been in the car together. This time, he’d offered to drive me home from The Turn and I was too tired to refuse. He’d already spent the rest of my shift hovering over me, as if leaving me alone was a dangerous idea. And it might have been. So Oli lingered longer than Peter had lingered and he finished the night out with me. When I’d locked up, with shaking hands, he then ushered me into his car.

The ride was quiet; the stereo wasn’t on, an unusual thing for any of my friends. We were all so fixated on music and noise that we often forgot that sometimes silence meant more. And the still hush of his car wasn’t as crushing as everything else. For once, I was perfectly content with quiet. I didn’t have anything to say anyway. My brain was full of gibberish and nonsense.

When he pulled up in front of my parents’ house, I found that I couldn’t really move. I just stared in front of me, straight out of the windshield. My hands twisted and wrung around each other. Oli exited the car and I barely noticed until he had already opened my door. “Savanna,” he hummed. “Come on, love, let’s get yeh inside.” He reached down and took my hands. I didn’t flinch at his touch despite the burn. I’d grown accustomed to it. He pulled me carefully from the car. “Up we go.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled and let him lead me up the walkway to the front door. It appeared that no one was home. I didn’t know where my parents were. As far as I was concerned, I was just a temporary boarder in their house. I didn’t care where they were. Before my brain could protest, my mouth asked “Do yeh wanna come in?”

A wave of elation hit his boyish face. He hadn’t anticipated this and he eagerly said “Yeah, sure.”

I nodded curtly and withdrew my key from the depths of my hand bag.

“Yeh know,” he mused. “I’ve only ever been to yer front door once,” he thought aloud. I glanced back at him. “When I came to give yeh yer sweater.”

“Oh.” I turned the key in the lock. “Right.”

“Rest of the time I jus’ came through yer window,” he added in an offhand sort of way. As if the window was a common entrance.

We entered the house without anymore words and we took off our shoes, two pairs of tattered Vans, his in black and mine in red. Our feet creaked the floorboards as I lead us towards the kitchen. I aimlessly went about making myself drink, two parts of my father’s whiskey to one part ginger ale in a tall glass with few ice cubes. Oli watched as I made my strong drink and he questioned “Yeh thirsty?”

“Uh huh.” I took a large gulp and let the liquid slid down my throat, the sharp liquor burn barely touching my already charred self. After I took a second smaller sip, Oli took the glass from my hand and took a drink of his own before sitting the cup on the counter and staring me down.

“Are yeh gonna be o’reight?” Oli asked, eyes locked.

“I’ll live.” A simple but foolish answer.

“Tell me what I can do to make this better.”

“Yeh can forget all o’ this happened.” A simple but impossible request.

His face became stern and serious, but not quite angry. “O’reight, so say I forget ‘bout all this. Say I pretend this never happened… What about yeh? Would yeh be able to forget about it?”

If I was going to be honest, I’d have said that though you can bury memories, you never really forget things that were this much of a struggle. I’d not actually forgotten about our past, just hidden it away. “Yes,” I lied.

And he called me out “Oh, bullocks, Sav. Yeh know as well as I do that this ain’t as easy as forgetting. It don’t work like that.”

“Then why’d yeh even ask… Ef yeh already knew the answer?” I scowled.

“Christ, ain’t it obvious? I want yeh to fuckin’ admit the truth.”

“What truth is that?” I played cold and coy.

He finally broke his stare and stepped away, groaning. “Yeh really lay it on thick… playin’ dumb. Yer killin’ me, Savanna.”

“Playin’ dumb?” Maybe I was, maybe I’d always known. He didn’t say anything, just paced back and forth and then back again. “Oli, I don’ know what yeh want from me.”

Looking back to me thoughtfully, he said “I don’t want anything really… just you.” The manner in which he spoke was flippant, as though he was unsure and very certain all at once.

“Yeh had me… once.” ‘Once’ was a time before I really understood what it was like to want someone.

“Did I?” He asked rhetorically. “Did I really have yeh back then? Because I’m fairly certain yeh’ve o’ways belonged to someone else… Seems to be the general reoccurring theme.”

“Don’t act so fuckin’ victimized. Yeh ever think that yeh only want me when I belong to someone else?”

He shook his head. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” I was honestly curious.

“Stop makin’ me seem like I’m heartless, like I fuckin’ plan this stuff. Why can’t yeh… believe me?”

“An’ what would yeh ‘ave me believin’?”

He took slow steps towards me and I tried to stand firm and erect but I felt like my limbs were made of goo. He was very obviously silent and stoic. He put his hands on my shoulders and I kept my arms limp at my sides. “Yeh should believe what’s real.” His fingers laced around strands of my hair.

Against what I knew to be true, I said “This isn’t real. This is a dream.” I closed my eyes and still saw him. This is how it always was. He invaded my thoughts. At night, I didn’t sleep. I lied awake, eyes open.

“Don’t say that this is a dream,” he commanded of me.

Each time he spoke, he spoke as if he still had more to say, like a sentence that ends with an ellipse. But I was sure that I didn’t want him to finish his thoughts. It was a dangerous thing, his mind. Rakishly out of control, like him on occasions. If he said everything he meant, things would be so much different. If my intentions were good, things would be so much different. But right then, with his unfinished sentences and my so called good intentions, we were probably headed for hell.

His mouth grazed my forehead. “Don’t say that,” he repeated, with his arms pushing me into him. He didn’t try anything dramatic. He just hugged me and I was okay with that.

My hands gripped the fabric of his t-shirt and my cheek pressed to his shoulder. By the smell of his shirt I could tell that he had pulled a brand new one from a box and then hastily tried to cover the new clothes smell with a few sprays of cologne. It made me want to smile. These little tiny insignificant details were what confused me the most. I could pinpoint all these things that I really liked about Oliver, facts or features that stuck with me. I could make a list.

But we’d built this web that we were trapped in, a web of rules and limits. We weren’t supposed to get along, weren’t supposed to make sense. Because we were so clearly different in everyone’s eyes. Well rounded Anna Harvey, in school and not too wild. Not a beautiful model and not his type. Rockstar Oli Sykes, always moving and always careless. Not stable and not the sort she should be with. Everyone is so sure that they understand us individually, but can’t make sense of us together. Something doesn’t click, doesn’t compute. And thus are the rules. Broken rules.

“I think yeh should go,” I said. I needed to be alone. I wanted to wrap myself in blankets and hide away. I wanted to dissolve and disappear.

“Yeh do?” He questioned, clearly not convinced; I wasn’t being very convincing. As much as I wanted to be by myself, there was also a part of me, deep and confused, that wanted to continue clinging onto him.

“Yeah, I do…” I felt like I should apologize for inviting him in only to throw him out shortly after. But apologizing to him wasn’t right. Because I really wasn’t sorry. I had to push him away just as he had pushed me away.

“Fine,” he grunted, a little angry then.

“Don’t yeh gotta be up early to head to Leeds in the morning?” I asked him, mostly to distract him.

“Aye.” He gave a slow, apathetic nod. “Will yeh be there?”

I shook my head. “Gracie ‘as to work… so we’re doin’ Reading on Saturday and Sunday instead. Makin’ it a proper trip and whatever.”

“Oh, right, then. So, I’ll see yeh?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

His next question was equally matter of fact. “Can I kiss yeh?”

“Ef yeh want,” I replied, knowing it didn’t matter. I closed my eyes, anticipating something severely searing across my lips. But instead, he placed a singular kiss upon my neck before stepping away.

“Yeh can…” He tried to say something but was unsure. He rethought and started over. “Yeh can call me ef yeh want.”

With some misplaced amusement I said “What would we talk about?”

He caught my light humor and with a half-hearted laugh he said “Cheese sandwiches, I guess.”

If I wanted him ever, I wanted him then, as he was leaving. It was this sort of thing that got me, that sliced into me. And what got me worse was that he never once thought any less of me, even when I was cruel and crooked. Because I was fine as is, maybe even better as is.

--

2005

It was late and the party was at the slow sublime stage in which everyone is crawling away from the scene or being dragged away. Bleary eyed and booze-breathed. I realized then this time had become my favorite part of the evening. So serene. Even in my startled state, it felt cool and calming. And it seemed that I was a part of it. Not an outsider, not a stranger. I knew names and faces, exchanged genuine hugs and affection. They expressed regrets that I had not made up with Tom. It would have made for the perfect end of summer, they said.

I had yet to see Oli and was feeling quite guilty. I wanted to find him and apologize, then beg him to crawl through my window with me so that we could curl into a pleasant sleep together. I needed it. I needed his anesthetic quality. He could make me better. I would forget Tom once more. And for good.

I found Gracie before I found Oliver. She circled around me and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. “Anna Lucille, I love you.”

I had stopped drinking after the disastrous beer pong game and I was not nearly as sentimental as she was. But I obliged her. “I love you too Graceann… ‘Ave yeh seen Oli?”

“Oh, Jesus, I dunno… ‘E was pounding back water, trying to sober up. Looked right miserable doin’ it.”

My stomach lurched, guilty again, guilty always. “When was that? Recently?”

“Fuck, I dunno, love… I lost my shoes,” she pointed out, this clearly being more important to her. We both looked at her bare, dirty feet.

“When’d yeh take ‘em off?” I asked her.

She lifted her shoulders, let them fall and then rested her head on my arm. She didn’t actually care about her shoes, I saw then. “Things didn’ work out with Tom, did they?” She asked instead.

I shook my head. “No, they didn’t.”

“What’d ‘e ‘ave to say?”

I pressed my lips together until they were stretched thin and turning white. I took a breath and said “Nothin’ good. ‘E’s gonna hate me forever and ever,” I added histrionically.

“Bullocks,” Gracie scoffed and grabbed my hand, pulling us away from any curious ears. “Now be honest, what’d ‘e say?”

“Well,” I started. “Tom called me a slut.”

“That little—“

“I wish every’un would go easier on ‘im,” I broke her thought quickly. “This ain’t ‘is fault.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Then ‘oo’s is it?”

“Mine.”

She didn’t protest this. Instead, she stated “At least yeh can admit it.” She hugged me affectionately and said “There’s o’ways next time, dollface.”

“I don’ think ‘e wants there to be a next time.”

“Oh, Annie.” She pulled a cigarette from behind her ear and fiddled around her pockets for a light. “I’m sorry ‘bout all this. Yer a good kid; yeh don’t deserve—“

“’S fine.” I began glancing around for Oli. “I really gotta find Oli. ‘E’s in charge of findin’ us a way home,” and with serious concern I asked “Yeh got away home, right?”

She nodded. “Aye, Lee’s playin’ Designated tonight for Matty an’ me… But Matt’s ‘avin’ a sick outside right now, so we gotta wait.”

“Really? ‘S ‘e okay?”

“’E’ll be fine,” she brushed it off just as Oli appeared in front of us. He wore a very somber expression. “Oli!” Gracie yelled. “We was jus’ lookin’ for yeh.”

“Oh? Yeah?” He looked between us and said “Well Lee’s lookin’ for yeh, Gracie. ‘E dumped Matt in the car. Ready to leave, I’d say.”

“Well damn,” Gracie groaned. “Better be off then.” She gave me another sloppy kiss and departed, leaving Oli and I by ourselves.

He rubbed the back of his neck and asked “Yeh ready to go?”

“’Ow are we getting’ home?”

“I’m drivin’?” He said as if it were very obvious.

“No fuckin’ way,” I said, not angry but firm. “Yer wasted.”

“I ain’t… Not anymore,” he explained.

“Not anymore?”

“I drank some water, sobered up.”

I looked at him skeptically. “Are yeh sure? Yeh were stumblin’ and staggerin’ all over the place earlier. And yeh played like fifty games of beer pong.”

“Well, let’s jus’ say somethin’ sobered me up pretty quick.” He avoided making eye contact.

I knew what he was talking about and I felt worse. I caved to my remorse in a moment. I couldn’t stand the thought of Oli being angry with me. One Sykes was bad enough. “Oh damn it, Oli, I’m sorry about earlier,” I immediately launched into pathetic apologies. “I were jus—I mean, I didn’t want to yell at yeh but I were o’ready so wound up tha’ I—“

He sighed, relieved. “I know. I’m sorry I wouldn’ jus’ leave yeh alone.”

“’S fine. I jus’ didn’t know ‘ow to deal with yeh after… after, um…”

“Right.” He nodded and put a casual arm around me. “Let’s get outta ‘ere.”

I smiled and agreed “O’reight.” We exited the house together, with me leaning on him lightly. He seemed to be walking fairly straight and thus all concerns left me. Oli was holding me and my body told me that this meant I was safe.

In the car, he didn’t turn the radio on and within moments I realized why. He had questions for me and slowly, he brought them up. “What’d ‘e say to yeh?”

I laced and unlaced my fingers and rubbed my palms together. “’S stupid. ‘S nothing.”

“Bullocks. O’ course it’s something. ‘E really hurt yeh, I can tell.”

I wanted to ask him how he could tell, how he knew me without actually knowing. Instead, I sank into his query. “Oh, I don’t know… I feel like I don’t deserve all the venom I’ve received from ‘im but then I really and honestly think about it… An’ I’m not so sure. I mean, maybe I didn’ try enough to get ‘im back or maybe there’s somethin’ I’m missin’.” I fell silent. I could only tell him as much as I knew myself.

Oli nodded and for a moment he was silent as well. He drove with eyes at attention, straight at the road, with his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. He wasn’t through with his inquiry, just waiting and letting our thoughts float above our heads, ghosts before their time. “Ef I ask yeh somethin’, will yeh be honest?”

“Well, yeah, o’ course, I’ll be honest.” I thought it was a silly question, as if I could lie to him.

“No, Sav, I really mean it. Jus’ tell me the whole truth, okay?”

“Okay.”

After I agreed, he took a breath and said “I know the two of yeh ‘ad denyin’ down to a science whenever anyone asked yeh… Yeh know, ef yeh was together. I heard it a thousand times. And I believe yeh… But there’s somethin’ weird, I dunno, I guess I want to know ef there ever seemed to be anythin’ between yeh. Like maybe yeh thought ‘e liked yeh or… yeh liked ‘im. Or somethin.”

This unsettled me greatly. I had not been expecting such a question from him. But the funny thing about it was that I’d been asking myself a very similar question all summer long. “Uh…”

“I understand ef yeh don’t wanna tell me,” he added. “I’m really curious is all.”

“I get it… An’ I wish I ‘ad a real answer for yeh. But honestly, I don’t even know. All I know is that for almost six years, ‘e’s been this huge part of me. Like my second half or somethin’ and I guess I know that it never felt like yer average friendship and that I’ve never worried about what it meant ef ‘e held my hand, because it jus’ feels natural to be that way with ‘im. An’ I know that without ‘im I’m not the same. But I don’t know what all of that means… Jus’ like I’ve no idea what yeh and me mean.”

“Eh?” He asked of the last part.

“I’ve no clue what exactly is goin’ on with us or why it‘s goin’ on… but like with Tom, I feel okay not knowin’,” I concluded.

He turned to me with a fond smirk and said “God, yer fuckin’ amazin’.”

“What?” I said, leaning forward against the dashboard.

The way he looked just then made me want to smile and I did, just as he said “Savanna, I think—“

And then for a moment, everything stopped. The impact swept across us like it was freezing the scene. Neither of us shouted and everything became slow and steady.

And then we sped up. The car swerved and spun. We were slammed and shook.
And then I began to scream.

I was still screaming when the freshly mangled car came to a halt in the middle of the street. I tried to open my eyes but the new and sharp pain in my arm had washed my sight black. Blinding. How did I hurt my arm? I gasped for air because I’d never felt anything so terrible. I groaned and hissed, just barely able to hear “Savanna—Sav, shh, love,” he begged. “Are yeh hurt? Hold on, hold still.” Oli’s hands were on me but my arm beat bold bolts of pain and I could not respond. I’d been against the dashboard; my arm had taken the full force of the impact. Had we been hit by another car? I couldn’t see. What had happened? I tried to focus on something other than my obviously injured arm. Oli’s palms pressed against my cheeks. “Open your eyes—Look at me, Savanna.” He pulled my face close to his and I struggled to look at him, burning tears blurred my eyes. “Good, hey…” He looked unbearably relieved when he saw that he had my attention. “Are yeh okay?” He asked.

At first, I just stared at him, trying to ignore my arm, realizing how glad I was to be looking at him. When I saw his concern, I concentrated hard enough and I succeeded in nodding. All I could think about was the feeling of serenity at the end of a party. Or after a car crash. A scared and lonely quiet.