Hazy Days

"Goddammit," I say to myself. I can't even spare fifty cents to call Jamie. I slam the phone back on the receiver and sit on the concrete. It's cold and I'm shivering but I don't care. I don't see the use in caring anymore.

Joel has the car so I can't go anywhere. The bus requires money, which I don't have. I sigh and rest my head against the wall. Everything is spinning and I want to throw up. I'm just so hungry, and smoking the butt of cigarettes in old ashtrays didn't do shit. That logical part of me, the part that was studying to be a nurse, knows this is the effects of dehydration and a lack of food. I made it even worse by taking some molly Joel had hidden away, but I found when I was looking for money. He's going to be so mad but I don't care because it worked and I stopped thinking about food for a while but now I feel worse.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" a voice asks asks. Go away, I want to tell it. Let me die here. If I keep up this no water/no food thing, I can be dead between thirty four and forty eight more hours. The voice says something else I don't hear. "-you doing?"

I decide to open my eyes and when I do, it's totally overwhelming. I'm facing the person-who turns out to be none other than Oliver- and looking up. Did I fall? When did that happen? "Go away," I mutter. He takes my wrists and pulls me up. "Leave me alone," I push him away once I'm up, but I stagger and he holds on tighter.

"You look terrible, Victoria."

"Gee, thanks."

"Anytime," he grins that stupid grin again. "But seriously. What's wrong?" He puts his hand on my shoulder and everything hits me all at once. It dawns on me that I'm fed up with everything, especially this nosey kid I shouldn't have had to see again until our ten year reunion.

"Everything is wrong, Oliver. I'm sick of living this way and being like this and this stupid city. I'm twenty four goddamn years old and instead of being a nurse or doctor or helping anyone at all, I can't even get myself out of this goddamn rut." It makes me feel a million times worse when I start crying. "And I just hate myself so much. I hate being so goddamn pathetic. I hate myself and want to die."

"Don't say that," it surprises me when he hugs me close. It takes me a second to hug him back. He's kind of soft, definitely not as muscular as Joel. He smells clean, too, not like smoke. "Jesus, Victoria. You're a wreck." His shoulders move up and down a bit.

"Are you laughing?" I take a step back and sure enough, he's biting his lip with the faintest of a smirk. "Fucking prick," I mumble.

"I'm sorry, I won't laugh again. It's just... weird, you know? Like, if you asked me or anyone back in high school, never in a million years did I think I'd see you like this. I really didn't talk to you that much, I admit, but we all kind of thought you'd end up a lawyer with a million dollars, or some shit like that."

I sigh again and sit back on the ground. "Law was too boring. I thought medicine was more interesting." I stopped crying, but my eyes still itch. Oliver sits beside me. We don't say anything for a few minutes. It's comforting having someone next to me, but unnerving at the same time; I'm used to Joel and only Joel at my side half the time, or being completely alone. "What are you doing out this late?"

"I just got off work, actually. I was on my way upstairs when this blonde little figure fell from the shadows and landed in my lap," I know he's joking, but I still feel bad.

"Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Tor," he says, then grins. "Hah, that rhymed. But the real question is, what are you doing up at this hour?" I don't want to tell him about being so hungry and thirsty and my lack of electricity, so I shrug.

"Couldn't sleep, I guess."

"Well that makes two of us," he stands up and pulls me with him. "There's this bakery a few minutes away that's opens in like... twenty minutes. And holy shit, you have not lived until you've tried their tiramisu muffins."