Status: NaNoWriMo - 21,112 words.
Exits and Entrances
cady grisham.
Do you remember “the party”? The party where you and Caroline hooked up? Because I’ll never fucking forget it. We had broken up two nights before, and Caroline dragged me out to a party, wanting me to be happy or whatever, to get out of my funk and be myself again.
I remember leaving Caroline in the kitchen for two minutes, to go say hello to Brandon, and when I came back, your lips had somehow found hers.
Do you know how much that hurt? It was like you had stabbed me in the back, then tried to stitch me up again, and then just ripped it open even bigger. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t ever forgive her for it. I knew she was drunk, but you ... you were sober and that made me want to die all over again.
In many ways, this was the girl from the next town all over again, a girl whose name we never knew. Not even you, Tommy, and that made you a man whore and a player and cheat.
So screw you.
This is me breaking down, Tommy. Sitting beside you and laughing, pretending I’m okay when all I ever wanted was you. Brandon Stock is sitting beside me, on my other side, and he’s entertaining me while you and Danny talk about Skyrim, some stupid new video game (I always liked Call of Duty, but you knew that).
“Oh, Cady, are you going to semiformal this year?” Brandon asks, out of the blue, and the entire group of us (meaning me, you, Brandon, Caroline, Danny, and Carlo), fell silent. I cleared my throat, aware that you, Tommy, were watching me.
“I doubt it,” I said, and I was speaking the truth. Semi was just drama, and without a date, you looked stupid. Besides, what was the point, Tommy? Rumors said you were going with someone, and why would I put myself through that kind of torture? I hated myself, Tommy, but not that much. I shrugged again, speaking slowly, because I knew you were listening closely. “I guess I’m just not ready.”
I was going to make you feel like shit for what you did to me. Not because you deserved it, but because I want you to know how I felt for all that time. How I felt when I would sit there and watch you and remember what we had, and who we were. Now, we were apart and I was lost but you were found. It wasn’t fair and I wasn’t going to try and make it so.
Later that night, like every other night before it, you called me. But tonight, there was something off. And I could still hear that in your voice. Isn’t that sad? That I can still hear your voice and how it sounds in different emotions. You began differently too, which made me realize what was happening. “So, you’re not going to semi? Because I’m pretty sure Brandon was about to ask you.”
I was pissed. I was still a ball of anger and fury as I tried to sort though everything, while applying for colleges and all that shit on my own. I was always on my own in everything, especially now. “Well, Brandon’s gay, so I highly doubt that he was going to ask me to semi. Besides, Thomas, I’m not going. No one is going to ask the emotionally unstable bitch with something to prove.” My words were like ice.
Normally I kept my anger in check around you, but oh my God Tommy you were just asking for it at this point. You were waiting for me to explode and get what I wanted and all that shit and I just couldn’t do it. “Who ever said you were an unstable bitch with something to prove?” You asked, like a total dipshit. Why, Tommy?
“Oh, I don’t know, Tommy. What about you? This is your fault and you know it and you’re trying to make it okay and you can’t make it okay!” I yell, knowing no one will wake up. No one ever does in my house, except me. “You can’t make it okay if you’re still the same person you were before! I can’t fucking do it and I can’t-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence as I broke down, everything piling up on me until I broke into a million pieces and tried so hard to keep it together and I can’t.
My parents, you, school, college, drama, EVERYTHING had piled up on me until my shoulders broke from carrying the weight of the world. I was bawling into the phone, unable to contain it any longer. And you sat there for a minute, gently shushing me like you used to. “Shush, Cady, it’s okay. I understand. Do you want me to stop talking to you?” You ask, and I answered completely honestly, getting myself under control. I was being childish, and I knew it.
“No, Tommy. I want you to stop talking to me because you think you’re making me better. I want you to want to talk to me, just because. I want us to be friends.” My words were true, golden, second only to your response.
I remember leaving Caroline in the kitchen for two minutes, to go say hello to Brandon, and when I came back, your lips had somehow found hers.
Do you know how much that hurt? It was like you had stabbed me in the back, then tried to stitch me up again, and then just ripped it open even bigger. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t ever forgive her for it. I knew she was drunk, but you ... you were sober and that made me want to die all over again.
In many ways, this was the girl from the next town all over again, a girl whose name we never knew. Not even you, Tommy, and that made you a man whore and a player and cheat.
So screw you.
This is me breaking down, Tommy. Sitting beside you and laughing, pretending I’m okay when all I ever wanted was you. Brandon Stock is sitting beside me, on my other side, and he’s entertaining me while you and Danny talk about Skyrim, some stupid new video game (I always liked Call of Duty, but you knew that).
“Oh, Cady, are you going to semiformal this year?” Brandon asks, out of the blue, and the entire group of us (meaning me, you, Brandon, Caroline, Danny, and Carlo), fell silent. I cleared my throat, aware that you, Tommy, were watching me.
“I doubt it,” I said, and I was speaking the truth. Semi was just drama, and without a date, you looked stupid. Besides, what was the point, Tommy? Rumors said you were going with someone, and why would I put myself through that kind of torture? I hated myself, Tommy, but not that much. I shrugged again, speaking slowly, because I knew you were listening closely. “I guess I’m just not ready.”
I was going to make you feel like shit for what you did to me. Not because you deserved it, but because I want you to know how I felt for all that time. How I felt when I would sit there and watch you and remember what we had, and who we were. Now, we were apart and I was lost but you were found. It wasn’t fair and I wasn’t going to try and make it so.
Later that night, like every other night before it, you called me. But tonight, there was something off. And I could still hear that in your voice. Isn’t that sad? That I can still hear your voice and how it sounds in different emotions. You began differently too, which made me realize what was happening. “So, you’re not going to semi? Because I’m pretty sure Brandon was about to ask you.”
I was pissed. I was still a ball of anger and fury as I tried to sort though everything, while applying for colleges and all that shit on my own. I was always on my own in everything, especially now. “Well, Brandon’s gay, so I highly doubt that he was going to ask me to semi. Besides, Thomas, I’m not going. No one is going to ask the emotionally unstable bitch with something to prove.” My words were like ice.
Normally I kept my anger in check around you, but oh my God Tommy you were just asking for it at this point. You were waiting for me to explode and get what I wanted and all that shit and I just couldn’t do it. “Who ever said you were an unstable bitch with something to prove?” You asked, like a total dipshit. Why, Tommy?
“Oh, I don’t know, Tommy. What about you? This is your fault and you know it and you’re trying to make it okay and you can’t make it okay!” I yell, knowing no one will wake up. No one ever does in my house, except me. “You can’t make it okay if you’re still the same person you were before! I can’t fucking do it and I can’t-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence as I broke down, everything piling up on me until I broke into a million pieces and tried so hard to keep it together and I can’t.
My parents, you, school, college, drama, EVERYTHING had piled up on me until my shoulders broke from carrying the weight of the world. I was bawling into the phone, unable to contain it any longer. And you sat there for a minute, gently shushing me like you used to. “Shush, Cady, it’s okay. I understand. Do you want me to stop talking to you?” You ask, and I answered completely honestly, getting myself under control. I was being childish, and I knew it.
“No, Tommy. I want you to stop talking to me because you think you’re making me better. I want you to want to talk to me, just because. I want us to be friends.” My words were true, golden, second only to your response.