This Is Torturous

Four days later, on Sunday, January 22, I was woken up a little after seven in the morning by my ringing phone. I hadn't gotten to sleep until around five, so I was very annoyed with whoever was calling me at such an ungodly hour.

With eyes still closed, I reached over and blindly grabbed ahold of it, tugging it off of the charger as I pressed it to my ear, “Hello?” I mumbled into the phone, clearly still half asleep.

“Sparrow? Shit, I forgot about the time difference because I just wanted to get ahold of you. I ended up waking you up. Holy shit, it's only seven there.” The person on the other end rambled.

My eyebrows creased, knowing that raspy voice anywhere “John?” Pulling the phone away from my ear, I opened my eyes to see if it really was him. I was met with the background picture of his cross-eyed face that was set as his caller I.D.

From where my phone was, I could hear him saying something, “-for waking you up. I just really needed to talk to you.”

Sitting up, I rubbed my face, trying to wake myself up, “John, this call is costing you a fortune.” I scolded, tiredly.

“I don't care; you weren't answering my messages and I need to apologize for what I said the other night. It was completely out of line and uncalled for.” As he went on, I crossed my legs and rested my elbow on my bent knee and put my head in my hand, trying to stay awake. “Sparrow, I didn't mean what I said. I was just upset.”

“I know, John. I understand why you said it. You don't have to explain yourself.”

A woosh of air fell through the phone, “You have no idea how good it is to hear you say that. I've been feeling so guilty and shitty and fucked up since the words came out of my mouth. I don't deserve you, Ladybird.” My heart panged.

If only he knew how wrong he is. How does it feel to have such a perfect human in the palm of your hand? You're going to crush him and you'll never forgive yourself.

“No, I'm not.” I quietly said into the receiver, willing the tears away. A huge wave of guilt settled over me as every doubt filled my head at the exact same time, “I think I need some space right now.” I softly said. He was silent before a shocked “w-what” left his lips. “I'm still feeling hurt and I have a lot going on-”

He cut me off, “Like what?”

I cursed myself, “Nothing, it's nothing.”

“Sparrow,”

“John, let it go!” I couldn't help the tightening in my chest, “I have to go.” I hurried before I hung up and collapsed against the bed, gasping. Here we go again.

He called back, but I sent it to voicemail. I sat, staring at my lock screen which was the picture I took of the two of us New Years morning. He was kissing my cheek and I was showing off the ring. Out of habit, I curled my ring finger into my palm, forgetting that my ring was still locked in my wallet. I never put it back on over the last week.

A new voicemail notification popped up on my screen and curiosity got the best of me. Clearly, I wanted to torture myself.

“Sparrow, Baby,” His defeated voice rang through my phone, “please don't shut me out. I hate that you feel like you can't talk to me. I don't know what's going on back at home, but it's giving me an unsettling feeling. I wish I could fly home and make everything better, whatever it is that's making you feel the way you are. Please talk to me. We're getting married, Sparrow, you should be able to talk to me about anything.” He paused, “If you need your space,” He took in a breath and let it out, “I guess I can respect that. I'm going to leave my phone on for another couple of minutes in case you want to call back. I wish you would let me in. I love you.”

Tears were rolling down my cheeks once the message was done. I wanted to call him back and tell him I was fine and that I loved him and he shouldn't feel bad about the way I was acting because it wasn't his fault, it was mine. I was just so mentally fucked up that I would rather sit with my horrible thoughts than let someone all the way in, instead choosing to drown in them. I was so determined to power through it on my own, though. Not to mention the reason why I was so distraught was the idea of marrying him.

You're such a horrible human being. How can you do that to someone? You should just stop everything now and leave him before something else happens and it gets worse.

My body went rigid as I felt a wave of panic wash over me. It hit me full force and I was alone. My body was already wracking with sobs and it made it even more difficult for me to breathe. My whole body ached and my lungs felt like they were going to explode. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to even my breathing, but nothing was working because I couldn't stop crying.

Nothing like a panic attack to start your day.

The rest of my day went by agonizingly slow. It didn't help that I was completely exhausted to the point where I felt sick and achy. I worked all day to the best of my ability and tried to get my mind off John. I was still so torn on how I was feeling. I knew he loved me and I loved him, but there was a big part of me that couldn't see why and the little voice in my head was telling me to get away before he could hurt me.

He'd never done anything to break my trust, but the commitment-phobe in me was screaming at me. This was the first healthy relationship I'd ever been in and I was only about to be twenty-three. Did I want to be married so young? Tied down? Why was I feeling this all so intensely? I had no idea, but I wanted it to stop. I wanted my thoughts to stop. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to eat. I wanted to go to John and tell him how excited I was to be his wife and actually mean it.

There was a dinner at Clover's that night. After the hellish day I had, I really didn't want to go, but I had obligations to spend time with my family. Maybe some time with married couples would make me see being married wasn't as horrible as my head was seeing it as.

I was last to arrive, like usual. It was Clover, Jordan, and our parents all together, so they weren't really bothered by it. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, where my mother and sister were finishing the food, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

Working open to close every day, not sleeping, and not eating were taking a toll on me. That mixed with the plethora of emotions I was feeling really wore my body out.

Both of their eyes found me and they both stopped what they were doing to stare. “Holy shit, Sparrow, are you okay?” Clover asked and my mother shot her a disapproving look for her language.

“I'm fine.” I lied expertly, “Exhausted, but fine.” I'd only gotten two hours of sleep seeing as my phone call with John and the panic attack made it impossible for me to go back to sleep.

Mom dropped the knife she was using to dice tomatoes and walked over to me, “Are you eating? You look thin.” She lifted the hem of my baggy sweater, but I pushed her hands away and backed up, out of her reach.

My lack of appetite had surely shown on my already too thin frame. I'd probably lost seven or eight pounds from lack of nutrition and stress and it showed. This brought me down to about one hundred pounds. “I haven't been feeling well.” I half lied.

She moved toward me again and placed the back of her hand against my forehead, “You're not warm.” She frowned.

“Mom, can we please just drop it?” I pleaded.

She looked at me for a few long seconds before silently agreeing and going back to the cutting board. Over her shoulder, I could see the concerned look my eldest sister was giving me, but I ignored it and went to say “hello” to my father and brother-in-law.

“Hi, Bird.” My father greeted from the living room, where him and Jordan had been conversing and watching one of the old Die Hard movies.

“Hi, Dad.” I softly said before bending down to engulf him in a hug.

Noticing my appearance, he gave a concerned look, “Are you okay?” When would people stop asking me that?

“Yeah, I'm fine.” I lied then moved to greet Jordan, “Hey, Jordan.” I smiled before giving him a quick hug and stepping over his legs so I could sit down.

“Hey, Sparrow.” Jordan smiled back as I sat down.

The boys went back to their conversation and I tried desperately to focus on Bruce Willis on the screen, but failed miserably.

Of course the only thing I could focus on was John. I wondered what he was doing and if he was stressing out over our conversation that morning. With the time difference, he was probably asleep. I longed for sleep, but I could never seem to get it when I lied in bed. Whenever I lied there, my mind would get so ridiculously loud, even with the TV on. As soon as I shut my eyes, my head was yelling at me, telling me how ungrateful and horrible I was. That I didn't deserve anyone ever in my life. I was going to die alone because I could never commit to someone for the rest of my life.

As I sat there, I ended up pulling out my phone and opening the Facebook app. There was a message from him, asking me to listen to his voicemail. It came in around nine, so he must have thought I hadn't listened to it.

“I listened to it. I can't let you in with this. I'm so sorry. There's just so much going on and I don't know if I can handle you knowing. I'm going to Nashville on the 27 to stay with my grandma for a few days to see if I can get myself and the situation figured out. I'm going to be cut off of technology. Maybe not completely, so if something tragic happens like if you get hurt, I'll be able to get in contact with. I'm sorry. I love you.”

I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up in the fetal position and sob. I couldn't do that, though; I was in my sister's living room, on her couch, sitting next to her husband. I had to suck it up and fight through it.

At dinner, everyone was conversing while I was quiet. I couldn't even tell you what they were talking about, that's how little I was paying attention. I was sitting at the head of the table so the couples could sit next to each other, giving me a full view of what everyone was doing and how they were acting. It all seemed so routine and lacked spark. This was one of the things I was afraid of.

That's going to happen to you. Your relationship is going to fizzle out.

I had no doubt about it. That's what happens when you get married, right? The romance dies. Everything becomes routine and predictable. You get married, have kids, grow old, and die. By getting married in your early twenties, you were signing your life away to be completely boring for the rest of your life.

Half way through, I reached out to grab a yeast roll. Clover's eyes landed on my hand, noticing the lack of a certain shiny diamond, “Where's your ring, Spare?” She questioned curiously.

Quickly, I retracted my hand and dropped the bread on my plate, hiding my ringless finger in my lap. Glancing around the table, I noticed everyone was watching me, “U-uhm, it's in the coin compartment of my wallet. It kept sliding off my finger. I think I need to get it sized.” Subconsciously, I began rubbing my ring finger.

“You do have abnormally skinny fingers.” Mom laughed and everyone agreed with a round of light chuckles. This only added to the list of flaws I had tacked up in my brain.

With a tight smile, I went back to my plate. I pushed around the mashed potatoes, feeling nauseous. I managed to get down a few bites before I couldn't take it anymore.

“Are you sure you're okay, Sparrow?” Clover questioned.

I looked at her with little emotion, mostly because I was too tired to show any, “I'm just feeling a bit sick.”

“Well, if you want to go home and get some rest then do it.” Dad interrupted.

I looked at him and nodded, “I think I'm going to. I'm sorry, you guys.” I said, standing up from my chair, picking up my plate.

Mom stopped me, though, placing her hand over mine, “Don't worry about it. Just go home and get some sleep.” I set the plate back down on the table with a nod, “I'll call you tomorrow to see how you're doing.” She smiled warmly at me. I nodded at her again and said goodbye to everyone before driving home.

As soon as I stepped through the front door, I ran for the bathroom and threw up the little I had sitting in my stomach.