Sinking Faster

“What happened to you last night?” I heard Courtney ask from the couch as I shut the front door, making my way home from the store.

“What do you mean?” I replied, confused, slipping off my shoes. “Nothing happened to me.”

“Oh, it’s just I haven’t seen you all day. How’d you get home?” she asked, eating Cheetos out of the bowl in her lap.

“I, uh, actually don’t remember. I just remember being piss drunk…” I said, biting my lip and crossing my arms.

Courtney sighed and placed the bowl on the coffee table, standing up. In a soft tone, she started to say, “Nicole…”

“What, Courtney? I didn’t sleep with anyone if that’s what you’re trying to get at.” I uncrossed my arms, soon becoming aggravated. I never understood why she always assumed the worst of me. It was as if she were my mother or something, because that’s what the two of them had in common, always adding a comment here or there, with a mocking tone of disapproval evident in their voices.

“No, that’s not what I mean, but like, you just said you don’t remember what happened. You could‘ve slept with someone; You always do. And people are starting to say shit, and I always wave them off, telling them it’s not true, well then, that’s bullshit. I’m just getting sick of it,” she said, throwing her hands in the air, walking into the kitchen.

“Okay, first of all I didn’t sleep with anyone last night. I have no idea where you’re getting that from. And since when do you listen to what people say? Because I‘d expect you of all people to be the last to give into that shit,” I snapped back, following after her, retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“Then how did you get home last night?” she inquired, turning around to look at me.

“I….I don’t remember,” I answered sullenly, thinking of what exactly happened last night. I remembered going outside on the hammock, then passing out soon afterwards, but nothing else came to mind.

“Did one of the guys drive you home or something?” She continued to pester me with these questions. What the fuck was up with that?

Leaning against the marble counter, I rolled my eyes at her, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Courtney. I had a shitload of Absinthe last night. I don’t remember much, but I know for sure I didn‘t sleep with anyone.”

Courtney shrugged, staring me down, probably having an internal battle as to whether it was plausible to believe me. “Okay, whatever. Me and the guys are going down to this guy Nick’s house tonight, but it’s kind of out of town. You can come if you want, but just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

God, it was like I was her child or something. Did I act that out of control? And how would she know how drunk I got? She was always off with John, no where in sight. And I wasn’t going to play victim, or even bother to give into the constant sinking feeling that was always boiling at the pit of my stomach, because this was becoming ridiculous. Who was she to continually ridicule me of what I do? Maybe it was out of concern for me, but she needed to know that there were boundaries.

I always went to these parties with her as the third wheel, with her and John. Not that that was a problem, but I was beginning to realize how we had begun to pull away from each other. One would think that we would be close friends due to the fact that we live in such close quarters, but we weren’t. She was always with John; I was either nursing my hangover in bed or working.

I soon became distracted by my cell phone, which vibrated from the pocket of my jeans. Once again, it was my mother.

“Hi, mom,” I answered, sitting down at the table, absentmindedly playing with the bottle cap of my water.

“Oh, hi, honey!” She replied in that joyful, motherly tone, which resembled so clearly for ‘We need to talk’.

“What’s up?”

“Well, listen, I talked to Kathy, and she said their moving the date up behind a bit, so the deadline for the debutantes will be in August, which would make it eight weeks from now…” she rambled on. It was so obvious that she rehearsed these things in her head by the way she sounded, having annunciated every word so delicately clear.

“Why do you need an answer from me now, then?” I asked, putting my head down, tired of engaging in the same conversation over and over again. She never asked me how I was doing, or what my plans were, etc. All my mother was concerned about was her plans, which usually only involved every aspect of the debutante business. I thought I had made it clear that I wanted no part in it, but then again, my mother was too in sync with her own thoughts to notice.

“Because we need to prepare you for this! It is crucial that we get the fittings and the other girls ready. And since you’ve already participated in this before, I thought you would make a great advocate for those who haven’t had the chance to,” she stated adamantly, emphasizing the ‘great’ part.

“No, mom! I’ve told you I don’t want to do this so many times before. Why can’t you just ask Krista?” I almost pleaded, wanting to put a cease to this conversation.

“Oh, honey, come on, you already know Krista’s in it. And besides, wouldn’t this be good for you? It would look so good on your resumes, and it would motivate you to accomplish other things instead of going to those awful parties all the time. Can you see what it's doing to you? You used to sound so happy; you used to participate in all these events! What happened to that? It seems like all you do is sit around all day, doing nothing. You can’t live like that, honey. No one is going to want someone like that," she said, disappointment running through every word.

I was already annoyed with Courtney, and now, it felt like my mother dropped a bomb on me. Clearly, I was not the favorite amongst her. Clearly she did not know I was working my ass off to pay for my textbooks. Clearly she did not know that I never participated in anything. I was not the one to get the golden star sticker by the end of the day; that was my sister. Clearly, she did not know me at all.

“Mom…will you just..will you just listen to what you’re saying?” I shouted into my phone, grabbing my hair. “I’m not like Krista. I will never be like Krista. I’m busy trying to make a life of my own, I’ve been done with that debutante shit for a while now. Can you just lay off for a while? Please?” I hung up, suddenly feeling a little guilty for being so harsh with her, but there was no better way to put it, as my current state of mind went from frustrated to pissed.