Sinking Faster

“Way to leave me last night, bitch,” I told Courtney as I sat on the couch, tossing a pillow at her.

She laughed, flipping through the channels on TV, finally turning her attention to me. “I’m so sorry! It’s just that you were trashed out of your mind, and it was so late, and John was doing this little thi-”

“Okay, you can spare me the details; I’ll live. But really? You leave me with Garrett of all people?”

Courtney smirked, tearing her eyes from the TV screen, as some infomercial about cutlery appeared. There is nothing good on television these days.

“Why?” she asked mischievously, furrowing her brow. “Did something happen?”

I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “It’s a funny story actually. That boy is one of a kind when it comes to making excuses.”

“Garrett? Yeah, he’s something,” she chuckled, “but go on, tell me what happened.”

“Okay, well I woke up with my head pounding and not knowing where the hell I was. I went to leave, but I accidentally stepped on a dog toy of all things, and so the dog comes running down the stairs. And then what do you know? Garrett appeared,” I told her, playing with a loose string hanging from the end of my jeans. I elaborated from there, telling her about went on in the kitchen.

Courtney looked aghast, her jaw hanging. “First of all, Nicole, I only told him that you get around only because he initiated it. I wouldn’t just flat out say it, I mean, I’m not even that kind of person and-”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, shrugging her off. Typical Courtney. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s kind of true anyway, when you think of it,” I said, pausing, still absentmindedly playing with the string. “I just can’t fathom as to why he doesn’t like me so much. It’s not even like we’d had a chance at a civil conversation before, either, you know? I must be a pretty terrible person for him to say all of that shit…”

Courtney shrugged, examining her bangs, then looking at me, appearing indifferent. “I don’t know, Nicole. As far as I know, he was just in a pretty bad relationship, so maybe that’s his way of coping it. Plus, he’s pretty different from most guys anyway, so I guess I would say don’t take it personally?”

I sighed, putting my head in my hand. “Eh, it’s not that important. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much, though. Anyway, enough about me. What are you doing tonight?”

Courtney bit her lip, as she always did when she was thinking deeply. “Um, I’m actually going The Maine’s gig downtown with John. The doors open at six. You can come if you want, of course. You’re cool with everyone else, so I don’t see why it should be a problem.”

To be honest, I’d always been curious as to what the band sounded like live. Prior to when Courtney even met John, I had never heard of them, but from the songs on their EP, they didn’t sound bad at all. They must have had some potential, with Pat and Garrett going on tour straight after they graduated. After all, they were home for most of summer, planning on releasing a new album soon.

I really did want to go, as I had no plans for the night anyway. However, the event with Garrett last night supplemented some complications. And I didn’t want to be the source of any trouble, since I didn’t know any of these people well, even though Courtney did. I wouldn’t want to gouge their reactions.

I also had not the slightest clue as to why I was so agitated about Garrett’s loathing feelings toward me. I wouldn’t necessarily classify myself using such harsh terms, such as a slut, because I certainly wasn’t - I had standards. I do not go around lingering the streets for a good fuck. In fact, I don’t even expect it; I don’t plan on doing anything. It just happens. This doesn’t justify my actions whatsoever, but it just comes to the simple fact that I cannot hold my alcohol as a normal person would be able to.

As being a debutante during my high school years, I never really had the opportunity to date. Seriously, that is. I would go on small dates with various guys, but they were always coming and going with each and every event, thus it would not have made it possible to keep just one in my life. My mother was constantly pressuring me left and right, to stay in shape, perfect my posture, to learn the antiquities of lady-like mannerisms, etcetera. I simply did not have the time for a boy, or the charisma for that matter, as I would come home from a long day from this “training” feeling deprived of any exuberance.

And of course, my mother never noticed. She didn’t pay attention to me, only focusing her determined state of mind on the status of the other debutantes, coordinating every aspect of the whole ordeal. My mother did care about me - I know she did. She had grown up with these traditions and acknowledged them as part of her lifestyle, although it had definitely gone too far.

However, about five hours later, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, not understanding why on earth I obliged to go to the show.

I had broken numerous hearts before. Accidentally? I’m not quite sure, but it seemed as if it were the norm to me. It was all I’d ever known - as weird as that sounds - that I could be capable of doing such horrible things. But throughout my life, all I was ever taught by my soul provider, my mother, was that things run in motion; that they’re chaotic, fleeing quickly and quickly from moment to moment. The realization was that it served as a source of protection for me, as a way to ensure the fact that my heart would and could not be broken. I would never be a broken girl, and living such a lifestyle of “no strings attached” suited my concern.

I touched my cheek, as if feeling as I were real or not. Maybe I was as a terrible person as Garrett was making me out to be. Something had to change. What would I do in the long run? Would I be someone’s tarnished version of a memory, having no significance?

I wanted to be something more than that. I wanted to be something bigger, better. And I guess I could be if I really tried. Who knew that such an intervention with this kid would lead me to feel this way.

But you know that saying, right? “Old habits die hard”?

That could just be the only thing weighing me down.