This Is Torturous

Work went by almost uneventfully. We had a small issue with the cash register, so I was on the phone with the company who made it for a better part of the day.

By the time I got home a little after 4:30, I just wanted to curl in bed. I had gotten little sleep the previous night because all I could think about were the things those girls had said about me online. I knew they were all mostly said out of jealousy and I shouldn't have read them to begin with because I knew they were going to be all about how much they hated me. I wasn't necessarily self conscious or insecure, but if enough people are calling you names and picking out your flaws then you're going to start believing them.

I knew all of my flaws already. Yes, I knew I was too skinny and the gap between my thighs was much too big. I knew my eyes were set a little too far apart and I knew my hands were too big for my too small wrists. My bangs made me look like a child most of the time and I was extremely pale for living in Arizona. No one needed to tell me because I already knew.

Winter showed up at five till five with Subway sandwiches. It wasn't my favorite at all, but it was free so I wasn't complaining. We sat in front of the TV in the living room watching a rerun of Will & Grace on Lifetime, not talking.

“How was work?” Winter asked a little after we settled in and began working on our sandwiches.

“It was all right.” I shrugged, “The cash register wasn't working properly, but we got it fixed.” She nodded, telling me she was listening, “Where's Archer?” I questioned, picking a tomato out of my Italian B.M.T.

“She's with Mom and Dad. They're my baby sitters this week.” I chuckled and nodded, not really feeling up for conversation seeing as my mind wasn't all there.

The only thing occupying my mind was all of the horrible things going around the internet about me.

“He's only with her because she's easy.”

“He's too pretty for her.”

“Where did he find her, a back alley?”

“Sparrow.” I snapped out of my daze and looked at my sister, “What's up? You seem out of it.”

Shaking my head, I set my sandwich down on the table, suddenly losing my appetite, “Nothing, I'm just tired. I seem to not be able to sleep when John isn't here.” I partially lied. I was tired. Mostly due to the fact that I stayed up reading and rereading the things girls were saying about me.

“John is only with her because he's sorry she's so emotionally unstable. I mean, what was she even crying about?”

“This Sparrow girl looks like she's twelve. Are we sure it's not his cousin or something? Surely he can't be into young, baby-looking girls.”

“Why does she think she can pull off the Zooey Deschanel look? She looks like she's trying too hard.”

Maybe I should cut my hair and grow out my bangs. That seemed like an appealing idea.

Winter was saying something, but I couldn't hear her. All I heard was something about Milo.

“Do you think I look like Zooey Deschanel?” I asked, lifting my head to look at her.

My sudden random question caught her off guard and she stuttered over her words, “Uhhh, well, I think you guys have similar hair styles. Your eyes are big like hers, too. You don't necessarily look like her, though. Why?”

Ignoring her question, I grasped a lock of my long, dark hair between my fingers, “I think I'm going to cut my hair.” I knew her hearing this was going to shock her; I hadn't cut my hair in years. Since high school, before Erika died. I loved my long hair and prided on the fact that it was so healthy for being so long.

“What? Why? You've been growing it out for so long!”

Shrugging, I dropped my hair and leaned back, taking my phone with me, “Maybe it's time for a change.” Noticing I had a text message, I tapped on the green square.

“Your fiance's fans are psychotic...” From Ryder. There was a link to someone's blog attached. Without hesitation, I pressed and waited for it to load.

Winter had dropped the subject, realizing I wasn't going to give her an answer, and finished off her sandwich.

“Re: John Oh's new “girlfriend”,

Who does this bitch think she is, coming in here out of nowhere and thinking she can swoop in on this sexy beast of a man? I bet he fucked her once and she won't leave him alone. This girl is deranged if she thinks their relationship is going to last. I mean, look at her and look at him. Doesn't he know he can do better? This is why I think she was just a one night stand that won't leave him alone. Why else would he be with someone as fucking ugly as her? I'm going to the show tonight and I'm going to give him some tips on how to get rid of this whore. This relationship is definitely not going to last, that's for sure.”

Why would my best friend send me something like this? How insensitive could he be?

My brain was going a thousand miles a minute. I felt sick to my stomach and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. Closing my eyes, I tried to breathe, but my chest just kept getting tighter and tighter.

“She's not even pretty.”

“I bet she's a raging bitch.”

“I heard he's not committed at all.”

My eyes flew open as I gasped. “Sparrow?” Winter jumped up and was on the side of the chair with worried, wide eyes. I stared at her, paralyzed, gasping for breath. My chest felt like it was going to explode. “Come on, sit up.” She said, pulling me up by my arms, “Breathe, Sparrow. It's only a panic attack. You're going to be fine. Focus on your breathing.”

I closed my eyes again, letting a few tears leak out from behind my lids. Winter's cold fingertips quickly brushed them away, making me flinch, “Sorry.” She quietly apologized, “Just breathe deep, Babydoll. You're not dying. You're just having a panic attack.” Her voice was soothing as was the hand rubbing circles on my back. She had seem plenty of these back when Erika died and knew exactly what to do.

Soon enough, my breathing went back to normal and my eyes lifted open the slightest bit, “Do you need water?” Winter asked and I nodded. She scurried off to the kitchen while my eyes focused on Jack McFarland and Karen Walker on my TV screen.

“Here you go.” She said once she returned with an open bottle of Dasani water. I downed half the bottle before collapsing back into the pillows behind me. Winter's eyes were boring holes into the side of my head. I knew she wanted an explanation, but I didn't necessarily want to tell her a bunch of anonymous teenagers pushed me over the edge with their words. I was so exhausted, too. I just wanted to fall asleep.

“Sparrow, you can't just have a panic attack virtually out of nowhere and expect me to let it go.”

Why couldn't John be here, comforting me? I just wanted to hear his voice. Why was he so far away when this was happening? Look at me being needy. Maybe he was too good for me.

My eyes shifted to my sister's patiently awaiting face, “What's going on, Spare?”

With a heavy sigh, I pressed the palm of my hand to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut tight, “John's fans found out about me. Not that we're engaged or anything, but that there's someone in his life. They've been sending me hatemail and it just got to me, I guess.”

Winter's eyes were sympathetic toward me, “Sweetie, you know all those girls are just jealous that John picked you, right? Don't take them so seriously.”

I nodded, “No, I know. I just wish they'd stop. I can't stop reading everything. It's like a scab – once you pick at it, you can't stop.”

“Then maybe you should get off the internet for a while.” She suggested. It didn't sound like a bad idea. Maybe I could try to stay away for a little bit. “Now, I know you're probably exhausted, but do you want to talk about the lines coming out?”

I sat up with a nod then set my water on the table, “My sketchbook is in my room on the dresser.” I went to stand, but she stopped me.

“I got it. Relax, Sparrow.” My body relaxed back into the cushions as I let her go.

I suddenly got this overwhelming need to hear John's voice. I had never felt that way before when he was gone. I was normally good with him being away. I never wanted to feel like I couldn't handle being away from him.

In a moment of complete weakness, I called his phone even though I knew he wouldn't answer since it was off. Hearing his voicemail would hopefully have to do.

“Heyy, you've reached John Cornelius O'Callaghan the fifth. I'm too busy to answer my phone, so leave a message!”

I hung up before the beep. Calling him was probably a bad idea since I just wanted to call again. There was a tense feeling in my body as I tried to fight through my neediness. I honestly wanted to punch myself in the face with how bad I was feeling. I couldn't keep up with my feelings.

Winter had an appointment to look at the space across the street at around eleven the next morning. I wasn't really worried about what time it was at because I wasn't going. At about 10:45, she walked into the store. I was folding some shirts to go on a table against the wall, feeling less than stellar.

“Hey, how is my favorite Sketchy McSketcherson?” She greeted with a playful smirk. I shot her a look, not amused by her joke.

As soon as she came back into the living room with my sketchbook the night before, I kept twitching nervously. I tended to do that after a panic attack for the fear that I would suddenly have another one.

“Sorry.” Winter laughed, “So, you're coming with me, right?”

I looked at her in confusion, “With you where?”

“To look at the place across the way? Duh.” I looked over her shoulder at the empty store with a “Space Available” sign in the window. Why would she need me there?

“Uh, if you want me to.”

She nodded, “Hell yeah I want you to! How else am I going to know if it's good enough for you guys or not?”

I shrugged, “You chose this one on your own.” I finished the last shirt and grabbed the rack they had been hanging from.

“That was before I had employees and people depending on me.”

Dragging the rack, I made my way to the back room where Tara was steaming dresses. “Hey, I'm going to go check out the place across the way with Winter. Can you man the fort while I'm gone?” I asked while I picked my sketchbook up from the desk.

“Yeah, no problem; it shouldn't be busy.” She replied, hanging up the steamer.

With a smile, I nodded, grabbing my purse from under the desk, “Great! We'll be right back.” Tara nodded then turn the steamer off, setting it off to the side.

The man was ten minutes late, so Winter was upset. She hated when things weren't on time. On her wedding day, her makeup artist was twenty minutes late because she couldn't find the little area she got married in in the middle of the desert. We all thought the girl was going to be a goner as soon as she walked through the door.

We sat on the window on the front of the store and waited. When he finally arrived, he apologized for being late and let us in quickly. As soon as we got in, I wrote down the measurements in my sketchpad and followed behind Winter as she roamed around, taking pictures.

I knew she loved it; it was so much bigger than what we had across the street. I could tell she was sold. The back area was five times the size of our little closet which meant we could fit easily to do bills or have lunch. That's really what sold me on it. I hated being in the cramped back room with the boxes and the small desk with the computer.

After twenty minutes, we left and went back to our little dinky shop, flying high on possibilities of what the bigger one could become.

“How was it?” Tara asked from the register.

“It was beautiful.” Winter gushed. I stayed quiet, opting to open my sketchpad and start sketching the walls of the store across the street.

As Winter blabbed, I drew the counter in the middle of the area, making it so it was a triangle with the point towards the bottom of the page. I drew the bottom to look like it was made of wood, giving it a rustic look. Above the counter, I sketched a chandelier that had lightbulbs hanging from it along with white paper lanterns and thin white streamers. Next, I drew an old vintage looking couch with a trunk in front of it towards the back left corner, where I thought the shoes could go.

“Sparrow, what are you doing?” My head popped up from my concentration to see Winter's confused face. Tara was also watching me.

Before I could respond, Winter reached over and grabbed the book from my hands. Her mouth dropped as she looked it over, “You just did this?” She questioned, astonished.

Nodding, I shifted on my feet uncomfortably, “I was over there and all of these ideas popped into my head.” Tara looked over Winter's shoulder at the work I had done, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“I really like this lighting fixture.” Winter said, “What else were you thinking?”

My eyes lit up and I smiled, rushing over to start explaining my whole vision, “Vintage dressers.” I said, “And birdcages.” I added excitedly. My sister listened to every single detail I had up in my head. She seemed to enjoy most of them and told me when I was going a little overboard.

“When did you get this creative?”

I shrugged with a laugh, “I look at a lot of blogs and my mind gets going.”

Tara sighed dreamily, “You're going to have the prettiest wedding, Sparrow.”

My heartbeat quickened at the mention of my upcoming wedding. For some reason, I had completely forgotten about my engagement to John and the way I was feeling while I was over at the new store and drawing what I thought it could look like. How terrible was I?

“Tara's right. You're going to have such a beautiful wedding.” Winter smiled, “Which reminds me, have you guys set a date or anything?”

Shaking my head, I gulped, “N-no, not yet. Next year, though, after they're done touring on “Pioneer”.”

Winter frowned, “That's so far away! Remember how quick Milo and I got married?”

Yes, I did remember. It took – at most – three months between the day Milo proposed and the day they got married. If I did that, I would be getting married in March. There was no way I was mentally ready for that.

“Well, in three moths, the boys will be gone touring The Philippines and Australia again, so that's not happening.”

Winter's eyes sparked with an idea, “Get married in Australia!”

I think I felt my heart stop. My mouth went dry and my lungs felt like they were shriveling up, “No.” Was all I said before grabbing my sketchbook and heading for the back room.

What was wrong with me? Why did I suddenly panic anytime someone started talking about plans for the wedding? I loved John. I wanted to marry him. I mean, just the night before I was desperately needing to hear his voice!

“You're not good enough for him. You've got to be crazy if you think he's in it for more than just sex; how could he be with you? Why would he go out with you when so many prettier girls would do anything to be with him?”

Knock it off, Sparrow!

Glancing down at my left hand, I felt my heart crumble at the diamond ring on my finger. It was suddenly all I could feel. My fingers felt like they were suffocating. Hastily, I yanked it off and dropped it on the table as if it burned me. I couldn't look at it.

Throwing my bag on the table, I pulled out my wallet and unzipped the coin holder. The ring would have to stay there until I got over myself.